by Amy Brent
Everything went white and gold, flashing behind my eyelids and in the corner of my mind, I could feel Leo thrust once more, a groan escaping him as he stiffened before letting me slide slowly back to my feet.
It was a good thing he was still there though, standing so close in front of me because my legs would never have supported me. They felt like bowls of Jell-O.
“Fuck.” Leo bit out the curse, and I pried my eyes open to see his dark gaze wide on mine, “Protection. I–.”
“Don’t worry, big guy,” I slurred the words, patting him on the shoulder before letting my arm drop again, “I’m on birth control. And I’m clean.” I grinned up at him, feeling drunk on the orgasm that still pulsed through me in waves of sharp pleasure, “I told you. I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”
“Me too. Clean, I mean, but…” Leo stared at me for a minute before shaking his head, some incomprehensible emotion sweeping over his handsome features before he leaned forward and placed the softest kiss against my lips.
After a long moment, he pulled away. He looked like he was about to say something but a loud, shrill ring cut him off. I jumped, glancing down at my cell phone. It had fallen on the floor next to us, along with my bag, and the rest of our clothes. It looked like a war zone. It rang again.
“Damn it,” I muttered, still shaking from the pleasure that swept through my body like a warm breeze.
“Just ignore it,” Leo whispered the words against my neck, causing another shudder to wrack my body.
I tried. Damn it, I really tried. But the incessant ring had already sent my post-sex glow packing. It fled altogether as I finally gave in, grabbing at the foul thing and glanced at the caller id. Shit. It was Jonah. For the fifth time. I hadn’t even noticed it ringing.
“I gotta take this,” I said softly, my voice full of regret as I slid away far enough to put my clothes back on. The phone was still ringing, sharp and un-ignorable. With a deep breath, I answered.
“Hello.” I tried to make my voice sound as normal as possible but it didn’t matter. Jonah was already talking before I’d even gotten the word out.
“You need to come home, Quinn. Now.” My brother’s voice was just as sharp and un-ignorable as the ringtone had been. I knew it would be bad when Jonah found out. Now, I knew it would be really bad.
I shot Leo a smile, half wistful, half regret, before giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.
“I have to go.” I turned to leave, just about through the door when his voice stopped me.
“Wait a minute, sunshine.” He turned, scribbling on a napkin from the bar downstairs before holding it out to me. I grabbed it, giving him one more small smile before leaving for good. It wasn’t until I was outside that I realized what he’d written. Below the horseshoe symbol for the bar was his number. For a moment, I considered just throwing it away but at the last minute changed my mind, tucking it into my backpack.
Chapter 2
Quinn
It took me three tries to walk up the uneven steps. Another three to work up the courage to make it to the door. I stood there for another five minutes, staring at the chipped paint and peeling siding of the shitty apartment I and my brother had grown up in. I knew every crack.
The window was still busted out and boarded up from when one of the neighbor boys had thrown a rock through it four years ago. The boards were weather worn and grayed now. Probably let in a hell of a draft in the winter but spring was blooming in Coral Springs. Mild weather, a good bit of rain, but nothing the Moore’s couldn’t handle together. They’d handled worse.
Unbidden the memories came. Another spring day. It had been sunny then. That had always seemed wrong to me. Sunshine had blared through the windows of the trailer home. I couldn’t find them. I had looked everywhere but couldn’t find them. It was my birthday and mama had promised to take me shopping for a new dress to wear.
I remembered crying. Knowing something was wrong, even if I didn't know exactly what it was yet. Then Jonah had been there. Hugging me so tight I couldn’t breathe. He’d hugged me for so long but neither of us had let go. That was the day our good for nothing parents had split, leaving their ten-year-old daughter and seventeen-year-old son with nothing but bills to pay and the rent already three days late.
A week later they’d moved out of the trailer home and into this apartment. The only thing a seventeen-year-old with a part-time job could afford. It was a crumbling building with leaky pipes, a terrible draft and loony old landlady who lived in the upstairs apartment. But it was home.
“Are you going to stand out there all night, kiddo, or are you going to come in and tell me what the hell you’re doing back here and not at college where you’re supposed to be?”
Jonah's voice hit me through the broken window and I jumped. I took a deep breath, steeling myself before hitching my bag over my shoulder and walking in.
“What the hell,” I said softly, trying to pretend that I felt brave, even when everything inside me screamed to turn around and run away. Back to Leo. Back to his strong arms. I could just lose myself there and never have to face Jonah. Never have to worry about anything ever again.
For a moment, the vision of Leo filled my mind, warming me through, but it was just wishful thinking. And I had given up on wishes when I was ten years old. I knew they didn’t come true. Not in real life.
I trudged inside and tossed my bag on the kitchen counter. The apartment was little more than a one bedroom, but we had converted the small office into a bedroom for me. I’d outgrown it years ago, just like I’d outgrown this rural town. But here I was, back again. My tail between my legs.
“Hey, big brother,” I spotted Jonah, leaning against the opposite counter. He had a beer bottle clenched in his hand but it still looked full. “How did you know I was back?”
“Mrs. Sheldon at the bank saw you get off the bus.”
“Fucking busy body.” I sneered softly, “This place never changes.”
“It’s changed a lot in the past couple of years, Q. A lot more tourists coming through.”
“Well, then the people haven’t changed. Still nosy as ever.” I shook my head in disgust but a few minutes later a small smile broke Jonah’s stern expression and then we were both laughing. The tension broke as he gave me a hug but when he pulled back, that damned look was back on his face.
It was so familiar, that face. Not just the light green eyes, a trait we both shared. Or the sandy blond hair or the freckles that were splattered across his nose. It was that look. The same look that said, ‘you fucked up again, Quinn’. That look of disappointment that I’d known was coming but still hated to see staring down at me.
“Don’t start with me, Jonah.”
“I’m not starting anything, Quinn.” He huffed out on a frustrated sigh. Jonah swept his hands through his shaggy blond hair, shaking his head as if he didn’t know what to say but I already knew what was coming. It was a speech I’d heard a thousand times before.
“What the hell happened, Q? You were so excited to get out of this town. To get away and start a new life. To follow your dreams or whatever the fuck it was.”
“I told you, Jonah, I don’t want to talk about it!” I started but he cut me off with a slashing motion of his hand. The beer sloshed over the rim of the bottle but he didn’t notice.
“I don’t care! We’re talking about it! Now!”
I took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as I could but I could feel my temper rising, “There’s nothing to discuss.”
“You’re damn wrong about that, Quinn. What happened? I thought you wanted to be a manager or some shit!”
“Not a manager!” My temper was slipping but I didn’t care, “I want to run my own business! I want to be in charge for once. No one telling me what to do. My own decisions. My own choices. My own responsibility.”
“Responsibility!” Jonah scoffed, and the contempt in his voice hurt more than any of his words, “What the hell do you know about responsibility? You
barely made it through high school. You dropped out of college, because…I don’t know why, but you obviously couldn’t handle it! You bailed, Quinn. That’s what you do when things get hard. You bail.”
“That’s not what happened, Jonah!” I was shouting. We both were.
“Then tell me what happened! Make me understand.”
“I just…I fucked up, okay? I fucked up and I can’t go back.”
“No, not okay!” Jonah shouted right back, pointing a finger in my direction but I refused to back down. “You don’t understand. You have no idea what I–.” He cut off abruptly, shaking his head and I could see real regret shining in his light green eyes. It cut deep, that look and I had to swallow before I could talk again.
“I know you’re disappointed, Jonah. But I’ll do better next time! I won’t make the same mistakes, I swear.”
‘Next time.” Jonah said, still shaking his head, “What makes you think there’ll be a next time? You’re right. You fucked up. But it’s bad this time, little sis. Real bad.”
“I know, but–.”
“No buts, Quinn. No more fucking excuses!” Jonah was shouting again and it had my temper spiking. He had no idea how hard it was. To be a stranger in a new place. All alone. No friends. No family. I had tried. I really had. But, things had just gotten out of control so fast.
Jonah was still yelling when the doorbell rang, cutting them both off. A tense silence filled the kitchen and then the doorbell rang again, and then once more.
“Is someone going to answer that damn door?” The muffled voice floated down from the vent in the ceiling followed by several thuds. Mrs. Peterson, the crazy landlady who lived upstairs, pounding away with her old broom.
“I got it, Lola!” Jonah yelled back, letting out a soft huff and a tossing a look in my direction that said we weren’t done with our previous conversation, if anyone could call our screaming match a conversation.
The bell rang again and Jonah walked forward, jerking the door open with a sudden snap.
“What?” The tone of his voice was enough to let anyone know that he wasn’t going to take any bullshit, and the man standing on the front step must have picked up on it because he took a hasty step back before stopping himself.
“Is this the, ah, the Moore residence?” He was wearing a suit, too nice for the neighborhood and I leaned around the corner to get a better look the newcomer. He looked mid-forties with a series expression behind his dark-framed glasses.
“Who’s asking?” Jonah’s words were brimming with suspicion and I took a few more steps forward.
“I’m looking for Jonah and Quinn Moore, children of Johnathan Moore and Rebecca Mayhew?”
“What is this about?” I asked, about to ask more but Jonah shot me a warning look before turning back to the stranger on the steps.
“What’s this about?” Jonah repeated my question, casting me another warning look but I knew better than to open my mouth again. A terrible feeling had settled in the pit of my stomach at the mention of our parent’s names. Anything to do with them was bad news.
“You are Jonah and Quinn Moore?” The suit asked again and we both nodded impatiently. He gave a sigh of relief. “Had a hell of a time tracking you down. I’m Trevor Hawkins. I’m your grandfather’s lawyer.”
“Grandfather?” I asked. The word slipping out in confusion. Mr. Hawkins nodded.
“Jacob Mayhew, your mother’s father. When he passed away seventeen years ago his property was willed to his daughter. There was a contingency in his will that automatically transfers the deed to the next oldest relation upon her passing.”
The lawyer’s words twisted and tumbled in my head but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t quite make sense of them.
“Wait, grandpa left property to mama?” I whispered, trying to understand but Jonah was already shaking his head. He swept a hand through his hair as the lawyer stood, waiting impatiently. “It transfers to the next oldest relation upon her passing? What does that mean?” I turned to Jonah, who was standing still, his green gaze staring unfocused.
“She’s…She’s dead?” I didn’t know what I expected to feel, but not this. This emptiness that suddenly filled me. The lawyer cringed, looking from Jonah to me and back again.
“I’m sorry. I thought you already knew. The accident was three months ago. Like I said, you were hard to track down.”
“We weren’t in contact with our parents,” Jonah said simply, still staring blankly.
“Three months?” I repeated dumbly, “What accident?”
The lawyer cringed again, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “There was a car accident. Your parents…Your mother was driving, they had taken a cocktail of drugs. She overdosed and crashed into a tree. Both of your parents were killed instantly.”
My gaze switched from the lawyer to Jonah and back again, that empty feeling growing like a black hole inside me.
“They didn’t suffer,” Hawkins said suddenly and I choked out a laugh.
“They didn’t suffer.” I whispered softly, “Well, good for them.”
The lawyer shrugged, shooting us another apologetic look, “I truly am sorry. I thought…I assumed that someone would have notified you of your parent’s deaths before now.”
“They haven’t been our parents for a very long time, Mr. Hawkins,” Jonah said, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so old or so tired. He was only eight years older than me but, in that moment, it might as well have been decades. “Thanks for letting us know.”
Jonah began to shut the door, but the lawyer stopped him.
“Wait!” He held out a large tan envelope, “The deed. It’s yours now. Everything’s already been signed over. It just needs a signature at the bottom to make it official.”
Jonah stared at the thing like it was a snake or some other poisonous animal but it was clear that Hawkins wasn’t going to leave without completing his mission.
Reluctantly, Jonah took the envelope before the lawyer finally turned and walked back down the front steps. We both stared at the thing for a long time, neither of us moving.
Chapter 3
Quinn
“Are you going to open it or not?” I asked for the tenth time in the past half hour. I’d been sitting across from Jonah at the small kitchen table, the envelope unopened between us. Still, no answer from my big brother. We hadn’t spoken about the other bombshell the lawyer had dropped on us yet either. But it sat there, heavy and waiting. An explosion that I knew was coming even if I didn’t know when.
“Remember when I was eight?” The memory hit me abruptly as I picked at the edge of the peeling linoleum top of the table. “Peter Thompson kept picking on me. Every day at the bus stop he’d shove me and one day I came home–.”
“Covered in mud.” Jonah interrupted, finishing the sentence. He shot me a rueful grin. “You were so dirty mom wouldn’t let you in the house and I had to hose you off outside.”
“I was so mad at him.” I shook my head, thinking about it. How it had seemed like the end of the world to eight-year-old me. I’d had a crush on Peter since the first grade. My heart had been broken, or so I’d thought.
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened.” Jonah chuckled. “I can still remember your face. Covered head to toe in muck but you wouldn’t open your mouth.”
“He ruined my favorite dress,” I muttered with a laugh as the memory rolled over me. “You followed me to the bus stop every day for a week. Spying.”
“Hey! Not spying! Just doing my brotherly duty.”
“Aka spying,” I said, but with a smile to soften the words. “I still don’t know what you said to Peter but he never messed with me after that.”
Jonah looked guilty for a minute but then shrugged, “I just told him that if he didn’t leave you alone I’d tell everyone that he still wet the bed.”
“What? That’s awful!”
“Sure, but true. I used to babysit the Thompson brats for extra cash. I knew the trut
h.”
We both laughed together but after a moment the sound died, that terrible silence rising up again in its place.
“Quinn, about mom and dad…” Jonah started, but then trailed off after a moment and I could see him struggling to find the words. In the end, I shrugged.
“It’s like you said, Jonah. They haven’t been our parents for a long time. Hell, you raised me after they left us. They don’t deserve our tears. They don’t deserve anything from us.”
“No. No, they don’t.”
“But it still hurts.” I didn’t even realize the truth of those words until I spoke them out loud. Jonah shot me a sympathetic look.
“I know, little sis.”
I closed my eyes, and behind my lids, I could see it all. The memories of my parents were vague. Hazy. They had never been a solid part of my life, even the few times they were around. As a child, I know Jonah shielded me from the worst. When I’d come home from school and mama and dad were passed out on the stain splattered couch, needles on the table in front of them. He would take me away to stay at a friend’s house, or the neighbors. Or take me down to the springs to play.
When they had left, it had almost been a relief for me. It had been harder on Jonah. I remembered that. By then, he’d practically been taking care of me singlehandedly anyways and we’d kept it quiet, forging our parent’s signatures, telling the neighbors they were just away for a short trip. We’d lied until Jonah had turned eighteen and could legally take care of me. And he’d been taking care of me ever since.
Even now, he was trying to shield me. More worried about my reaction than dealing with this shit himself. But I was an adult now. And Jonah had a life of his own. It was better that way.
I glanced at the envelope, Jacob Mayhew scrawled across the front. I didn’t really remember my grandfather at all. He’d died when I was just three or four. A name was all he was now, but the thought of him had me glancing back at the envelope. Maybe I would grieve later for the parents I never knew. Maybe I had grieved for them when I was ten years old and realized they’d abandoned us and were never coming back.
