20. Chapter 20
The end of summer came fast; Tanner and I hadn’t had any alone time post-trip, and he’d moved back in at school a week ago.
I’d written out a text to him earlier today but hadn’t been able to will myself to hit send.
It had been a rough one—Coach Berrios had said he thought a Division II school was going to make me an offer, but when they’d heard of my shoulder injury, they’d decided to go in another direction.
With senior year approaching, my time was dwindling fast.
I should’ve gone to the Quinns’ tonight, but the allure of a Bud Light was too much, so instead I sat in the garage, enjoying my sixth—or was it seventh?—of the day.
I rolled in my thoughts; tonight’s featured flashbacks to the title game last year, and I replayed that last at-bat on a loop. Smooth, strong swing. Hit the barrel. A line drive right at the second baseman.
A loud thumping broke me out of my trance.
Zach had never been the quietest person in the world. Every time he entered a room, it was as if a bull had entered a china shop. So, when the door to my grandparents’ garage barged open without so much as a knock, I knew it had to be him. I didn’t even glance up.
“You missed practice,” he said. His dark hair was wet with sweat underneath his cap; it always amazed me how Tanner and Gavin looked so similar but Zach strayed in many ways. Normal-sized ears and nose, mainly. But the one thing they shared was their pissed-off face, and Zach wore it now.
“I needed a day off,” I said, stumbling to push the can of Bud Light underneath my seat.
“Bullshit,” Zach snapped. “You’re fucking drunk.”
“Like I said, day off,” I laughed. “Have one with me.”
“Hell no, Easton, get a grip.”
“You used to be fun. We’ve drunk before,” I said, words slurring.
“Yeah, at parties. With other people. Not alone in a dirty-ass garage with no one here.”
“Now you’re making fun of where I live?” I said, my temperature rising, the alcohol taking control of my words.
“I’m calling you a moron for sitting here by yourself drinking; take it however you want.” He paced the room; he had the same strut as Tanner, the way they both came up short when they changed direction.
“Sorry I can’t sleep in a big fancy house my parents paid for, living the perfect life.”
“Oh, shut up, Easton,” he said, smacking a fly out from in front of his face. “You basically live there, too.”
“Not my house.”
“And yet you’re treated like the fourth son anyway, and you always have Tanner and Gavin up your ass to hang out,” he said, spinning away from me, his voice rising by the second.
I took another sip of my beer. Yeah, I was drunk. So what? “Maybe if you cared about anything they did, they wouldn’t like me more.”
Zach spun around, fists clenched, possibly ready to hit me. “You’re a shitty friend to me, you know that?”
“Maybe I am.”
“You still haven’t apologized for when you stopped talking to me. You apologized to Gavin, and then you apologized to Tanner. You bought me dinner but never once apologized. I was never worth it to you. You just came back into our lives and acted like nothing happened. Like nothing bothered you.”
Maybe if I were sober, I could’ve come up with a better response, but instead I sat there speechless, unable to come up with anything resembling a sentence.
“No words, even when I tell you? Always the Pity Easton show because life hates you, right? You act like no one gives a shit about you, yet my whole family loves you, man.”
The beer slipped in my hands as the lawn chair grew more uncomfortable than it had ever been.
“They aren’t my parents, though,” I said.
I held back the tears as much as possible, thinking about seeing my mom and all the breaths she’d never take again.
“My mom is fucking dead, and I couldn’t stop it. "
“This is what I mean, dude,” he said, softer now but still annoyed. “I’m going to leave. But will you be okay for the rest of the night? You need to sleep this off.”
I nodded, releasing the bottle as he took it out of my hand. I watched him take the remaining three bottles out of the mini fridge and dump them in the sink.
“Take some Tylenol or something.”
“You’re not supposed to do that when you’re drinking,” I said for no reason.
“Jesus. I really don’t care. Go to bed,” he said as he exited, not bothering to turn back around to see if I was okay.
Fuck Zach. Yeah, fuck him, I thought as I fell asleep in the chair.
I woke up the next afternoon to banging on the garage door, my arms still hanging over the chair. Stale beer stung my nose in the way it only did in the morning after drinking too much.
“It’s unlocked,” I yelled, my voice pounding in my head.
Gavin walked in, the sun streaming behind him like the day had forgotten I was hungover. “Mom and Dad want to talk to you,” he said, a smile spreading.
Zach must have talked to them. That little rat had snitched on me for drinking.
“Why are you so happy about this?” I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see the kid wearing a powder-blue Rocket City Trash Pandas jersey over burnt orange shorts. And the red Crocs, because why not?
“They said I’m not allowed to tell you, just to grab your bike and come home.”
“Give me a couple of minutes.”
“No. Mom made spaghetti for lunch.”
“I haven’t even eaten breakfast.”
“You slept through breakfast. Time for spaghetti,” he said, grabbing my arm and ripping me out of the chair to my feet.
I reluctantly walked toward my bike, my balance still out of whack. I chugged the bottle of water that sat in the cup holder and threw a piece of spearmint gum into my mouth before pushing the bike out the door and joining Gavin on the ride to his home.
This was not how I’d hoped to start the day, but the fresh air helped. By the time we got to the Quinns’, I felt almost good enough to face whatever screaming match they had ready.
When we entered, my three opponents occupied the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Quinn pressed together on the couch, side by side, relaxed like they’d been waiting for me. They appeared calmer than I’d expected and did not look mad in the slightest.
Zach leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed and not looking at me. His face hung as tightly as it had last night.
Gavin sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against Mr. Quinn’s chair, smiling like he expected Santa to come down the chimney with a bag full of presents.
All of them were ready.
I hovered in the doorway, awkward, my fingers clenched, hangover sweat pouring out.
Mrs. Quinn was the first to speak. “Easton, sweetie, come sit.”
I did, cautiously, easing into the open armchair like it might disappear under me.
Mr. Quinn bent forward, forearms resting on his knees. “We won’t keep you long.”
“A lot has happened this morning,” Mrs. Quinn added gently.
I gave the smallest nod. My throat resembled sandpaper.
“You know we love you, right?” she said.
I didn’t answer right away. But I held her gaze. That was what I could manage.
“We’ve known for a while you’ve been struggling,” Mr. Quinn said. “You’ve always had a tough deck to shuffle through. But we also know how much you’ve carried by yourself.”
I stared down at my hands. I wasn’t going to look at them anymore, not now, when they were excusing my actions because they felt sorry for me. Always protecting me.
Mrs. Quinn reached across the coffee table and placed her hand near mine—not touching but close enough the offer was available. “Zach told us what he saw. And, Easton... he didn’t come to us because he was mad. He came to us because he was scared for you.”
Of course he had. Couldn’t fight his own battles, so he’d gone to Mommy and Daddy. Because he could.
She started again. “You’re hurt. And you’ve been hurting alone.”
Mr. Quinn nodded. “So, we talked. All of us, with your grandparents.”
I looked up, wondering how they’d gotten roped into this.
“They know we’re having this conversation,” he said. “And they agreed. They said they love you, but you need more than what they can give. You need support and stability and a house that’s... full.” His eyes pierced mine. “Easton, we’d like you to move in with us. Permanently.”
I squinted, my tongue pushing out my bottom lip. Move in? The words didn’t land right away. They circled in my ears like static before finally clicking into meaning, even though it still didn’t make sense. “What?”
Gavin spoke for the first time, still smiling, finally able to reveal what he’d been holding back. “Not for a night. Like, all the time.”
I looked between them. “You... decided this?”
Mrs. Quinn nodded. “We wanted to be ready if you agreed. But the choice is yours.”
The walls pulsed around me, the air thick in my lungs, as if nothing wanted me to breathe properly.
“You don’t have to answer now,” she said. “We know it’s a lot.”
“I don’t—” I started and then stopped. “I didn’t think I could ask.”
Mr. Quinn leaned back, arms folding again. “That’s why we’re asking you. You never would.”
I looked at Gavin. He bounced around, not holding back anymore, with that smile on his face that always forced a yes from me.
“You’re all okay with this?” I asked, looking at Zach.
He nodded then turned away, his face back to unreadable. His jaw chewed on words he refused to say. But the nod was unmistakably a yes, even with how much it’d cost him to say it. Even though he’d wanted to say no.
He hadn’t ratted me out; instead, he’d protected me.
I tried to speak again. Failed. Then I nodded. The tears came quietly. Not sobs—more like a dam cracking open after too many months sealed shut. I swiped at my face and tried to hold it together. “I’d like that,” I said. “I really would.”
Mrs. Quinn got up and made her way to me, crouching beside me just long enough to pull me into a hug. Not tight, not overwhelming—just enough. “You’re already part of this family,” she whispered. “Now you’ll have a room to match.”
“I started putting Tanner’s stuff in boxes,” Gavin said, trying to get in on the hug. I shoved him away, knowing he’d make me hug him again later.
Zach slipped out of the room, his eyes on the carpet; I had a lot to make up to him. I owed him more than I could say. I wouldn’t be the guest on the futon anymore or the kid who only needed protection half the time.
If I lived here now, I’d have the time to make it right.