Welcome to Pembrooke: the complete Pembrooke series

by Prince, Jessica

  “How’s the dance school?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “It’s good.” I thought back to the classes I’d instructed earlier in the week, and Sophia came to mind. Such an animated, energetic little girl. “I have a new student, Sophia. She’s…” I stopped and laughed. “She’s a handful in the best way.”

  He chuckled beneath my cheek. “Sounds familiar. I bet she runs her parents ragged.”

  My smile faded a bit. “It’s just her dad. His wife died in a car accident a few years ago.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that.” The song came to an end and Dad sucked in a breath. It hurt to see him so weak, but I maintained a neutral expression as I helped him over to the couch, taking a seat next to him.

  “Yeah,” I continued, knowing not to question how he was feeling. He hated being treated like an invalid. “It’s really sad. But you should see him with her, Dad. He took her and bought all of these bright-colored leotards because that’s what she wanted. He’s just so… big and rugged. I can’t picture him going into a dance shop and loading up on all these sparkly tutus and leotards.” Dad gave a small laugh. “Oh! And he even put her hair in a bun for her first class.” Now it was my turn to laugh. “It was a disaster. Like, really bad, but you could tell he tried his hardest.”

  Dad’s face grew thoughtful as he studied me. “Sounds like his daughter’s not the only one who’s caught your attention.”

  “Oh, no. It’s nothing like that,” I argued, even though it was a lie. Quinn had done more than catch my attention, but it was pointless. I knew that much. “There’s nothing going on there. He’s… he’s a good guy. I don’t know him all that well, but I can tell.”

  Dad’s lips quirked up in a tiny grin. “Sure doesn’t sound like there’s nothing there.”

  I shook my head and whispered in a defeated voice. “Daddy, he still wears his wedding ring.”

  I watched as his face grew sympathetic. Reaching over, he patted my hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “What? No words of wisdom? No advice for me?” I asked in a joking tone while really, I was hoping my father would have some sage wisdom when it came to Quinn.

  His head shook just slightly. “No, honey. I’m sorry. When it comes to matters of the heart like that there’s no one that can help the person move past that kind of loss. It’s something that has to come from within. All you can do for someone like that is be his friend. Give him a shoulder to lean on, an outlet for his pain. That’s the very best gift you can give that man.”

  I leaned against him, letting myself enjoy the warmth as he looped his arm around my shoulders and held me. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

  “Trial and error, baby girl,” he chuckled. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you experience a lot of trial and error.”

  A wave of sadness crashed over me. It wasn’t fair. He should have had years left.

  As if reading my thoughts, Dad’s arm around me gave a tiny squeeze. “I know what’s going on in that head of yours, and I want you to stop it right now.” I pulled in a stuttered breath and clenched my eyes closed as he continued on. “I’ve had a good life, Lilly Flower. An amazing life. I’m sad that it’s being cut short, but I got you and your mother so I can’t regret a single day. I don’t want you to be sad for me. When I’m gone, I want you and your mother to remember all the good times.”

  I sniffled as a few stray tears broke loose as I sat up to look at him. Anger starting to push to the forefront. “You make it sound so easy. It’s not, Dad. I can’t just smile and pretend it’s all okay. I’m going to miss you too much. I don’t want to lose you.”

  His rough, weathered hands cupped my cheeks. He used his thumbs to brush my tears away as his eyes shimmered with his own. His voice sounded ragged as he spoke. “I know, sweetheart. I know. And I’m going to miss you, too. I know it won’t be easy, but you’re not losing me. I’ll always be with you. Never doubt that. It’ll be sad, but I need you to remember something for me. I need you to remember that I was able to let go with peace in my heart because of you and your mother. You two gave me more than I could have ever imagined. My time on Earth was so full, so miraculous, because of you.

  “Be sad, baby girl, it’s okay to be sad. But then, let it go. Live your life and search for the person who makes you complete. Strive to get what you and your mother gave to me. Never settle for less than that. You understand?”

  I nodded, unable to speak past the mass of emotion that was clogging my throat.

  “Good. Now, you know your mom’s roast is my favorite so let’s eat. I’m not dead yet, and I plan on rolling through those pearly gates fat and happy.”

  I couldn’t hold in my watery laugh, even as I smacked my father’s arm and stated, “Too soon, Dad. Too soon.”

  He grinned back at me and gave me a wink as I helped him from the couch. “Fine, no more death jokes.”

  “Much appreciated,” I deadpanned.

  We made it to the dining room just as my mother set the platter in the center of the table. “Just in time. Let’s eat.”

  Dad patted his belly and took his chair at the head of the table. “Great! Oh, and Elizabeth, your daughter’s gone all moon-eyed over a young man.”

  My eyes went wide as my head shot in my father’s direction. Leave it to my father to lighten the mood by throwing me right under the bus.

  And I couldn’t even be mad at him for it.

  7

  Quinn

  “Smells good,” I said as I entered my parents’ house through the back door just off the kitchen. Mom was standing at the counter, peeling potatoes as I made my way to her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

  “You here for dinner?” she asked, as I pulled the fridge door open and grabbed a beer.

  I took a gulp and leaned back against the wall, crossing my ankles. “Yeah. Soph’s at a sleepover again tonight. Figured I’d hang with you and Dad for a while. Speaking of…” I peeked around the doorway into the hall. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He had to run to the hardware store. The garbage disposal’s been acting up. He’s finally going to get around to replacing it.”

  I laughed as I picked up a piece of potato and popped it in my mouth, earning a smack on the hand from my mother. “About time. It’s only been what? Two months?”

  “Three,” she added dryly. “That man’s convinced he can fix anything. I was this close to shoving one of his tools down inside and turning it on.”

  “Glad you didn’t. He’d probably have a heart attack if you ruined one of his wrenches.”

  “Yes, well, it would serve him right,” she muttered, as she picked up a knife and began chopping. “I’m surprised you didn’t have other plans for this evening.” She tried her best to come off conversational, but I knew exactly what she was doing. She was in the mood to push. Every so often my mother got it in her head that I wasn’t happy with my life, that I needed more. Those conversations never tended to go well. “I figured you’d want a night out since Sophia’s not home. You know, with friends… or maybe a nice young lady.”

  I dropped my head back on a groan. “Christ, Mom. Not this again.”

  “What? Can’t a mother inquire about her son’s life?”

  I set my beer down and placed my hands on the island that separated us. “You’re not inquiring, you’re trying to have another one of your goddamn interventions. I’m telling you now, just stop.”

  “Watch your language,” she scolded.

  “I’ll watch my language if you tell me you understand,” I threw back.

  Dropping the knife with an exasperated huff, she threw her hands up in the air. “I just want what’s best for you, Quinn. I want you to be happy.”

  That familiar prickling sensation on my skin I got every time I got angry began to nag at me. “You keep saying that! What makes you think I’m not happy, huh? I’m perfectly fine with my life, Mom.”

  “Perfectly fine is not happy,” she argued back. “I know you loved her, sweethe
art. We all did. Addy was a wonderful person. But it’s been three years. You need to start living again.”

  “I am living,” I ground out, my jaw ticking with the effort to not lose my cool.

  “There’s this lovely new Sunday School teacher at the church. Why don’t you just—”

  “Jesus Christ, Mom!” I shouted, running my hands through my hair in frustration. “Stop! Just stop. I’m not dating some Sunday School teacher.”

  “Well what about the—”

  “Enough!” Her mouth snapped closed at the same time her eyes began to shine with pain, making me feel like a complete asshole. I hated fighting with my mom, but I couldn’t handle another conversation like this. Turning on my booted heels, I started for the back door.

  “Where are you going?” she called out after me. “I thought you were staying for dinner.”

  “Lost my appetite,” I grunted, shoving the screen door open. “Tell Dad I’ll see him later. Good night.” I slammed the door shut on the sound of her protest, letting my feet carry me back to my truck. Once inside, I dropped my forehead against the steering wheel and worked to control my breathing. I felt like shit for how I acted. I hated that whenever the conversation involved Addy, even indirectly, I instantly closed off to anyone and everyone. But I couldn’t help it. Addy was still there every time I closed my eyes.

  It wasn’t just the death of my wife that kept me from moving on, it was the weight of the guilt I carried with me every fucking day. If I hadn’t taken my eyes off the road, if I hadn’t gotten distracted, she’d still be here. Living with the knowledge that my wife was gone because of me was something I struggled with every single goddamned day. No woman deserved to tie herself to a man with that kind of baggage. Why couldn’t my mother see that?

  A large part of me died in that car with Addison that night, and there was no fixing that. I was too broken to be any good to another woman, and the sooner my family came to grips with that, the better off everyone would be.

  Because this was as happy as I was ever going to get. It was all I deserved.

  * * *

  Halfway home, my stomach protested the decision not to eat dinner with my folks. I decided my best bet was to stop off at Sinful Sweets and order something for carryout. I wasn’t the best company, and subjecting the other diners in the café to my foul mood wouldn’t have been fair.

  I’d just put my order in and was waiting at the counter when I heard someone calling my name.

  “Quinn?”

  Looking over my shoulder, I found Lilly standing there with a carryout bag of her own. Damn, she looked good. She always looked good, that was part of the reason I’d stayed away from her for so long. There was an undeniable attraction there that shouldn’t have been. Even wearing shapeless sweats that left everything to the imagination, her hair thrown up in a messy bun, and her face clean of makeup, she was beautiful enough to have most of the men in the restaurant doing a double take. I wasn’t immune to her appeal, even if I wanted to be.

  “Hey.”

  She cocked her head to the side and frowned. “You okay?”

  I let out a tired sigh and scrubbed a hand over my face. “Yeah. I’m just… it’s been a rough night.”

  She glanced down at her watch then back to me, her light brown eyes dancing with a mixture of confusion and humor. “It’s eight-fifteen.”

  I shrugged. “Rough evening then.”

  She took a step closer, placing a tiny hand on my arm. I tried to ignore the way her touch ignited sparks of electricity beneath my skin, but damn, it was hard. “You want to talk about it? I’ve been told I kick ass at listening. Watch.” She shut her mouth and maintained eye contact for several seconds, her brow furrowing in what looked like intense concentration. “See? Hardcore listener right here.” She pointed at herself, and there was no holding back the grin that tugged at my lips. The woman was a nut. It was surprisingly refreshing.

  “I appreciate the offer, but—”

  Before I could refuse, the waitress came back and dropped my bag on the counter. “Here you go, Quinn.”

  “Thanks.” I pulled my wallet out and tossed some bills on the counter, then picked up my bag and turned to face Lilly, geared up to turn her offer down as politely as possible.

  “Look,” she started, “It would appear that both of us are eating alone tonight.” She lifted her bag as proof and continued. “Might as well keep each other company. I just hit up Mabel’s and stocked up on wine. And I won’t push you to talk about your rough evening if you don’t want, I promise. There’s no reason for either of us to go home alone tonight, right?” As soon as the words passed her lips, her eyes went big. “That came out wrong! What I meant was we can just… hang out. Not, like, sexual.” She whispered sexual as her eyes frantically darted around to make sure no one heard. “I wasn’t propositioning you, I swear. I mean, not that you aren’t good looking. Because you are! Oh my God, please say something to shut me up, already!”

  I burst into laughter as her cheeks burned a bright, humiliated red. “It’s not funny!” She smacked my arm, but I could hear the playfulness in her tone as she scolded. “Oh, God. That’s so embarrassing. Just pretend I didn’t say anything. I’m going to go upstairs and shove my head in my newly clean oven. Excuse me.”

  Without thinking about what I was doing, I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Wait, wait…” I took a deep breath to get my laughter under control. “I understood what you meant.”

  She narrowed her eyes in a mock glare. “Then why’d you let me keep going like that? You could have stopped me before I dug the hole any deeper.”

  “And miss the show? Hell, no. That was the most entertainment I’ve had—”

  She held up her hand to stop me. “So help me God, Quinn Mallick, if you say it’s the most entertainment since I set my kitchen on fire, I’m going to punch you right in the throat.”

  My mouth snapped closed so fast my teeth clanked together, because that was exactly what I was about to say. I cleared my throat and fought to keep from grinning as my fingers involuntarily squeezed around her arm. “You know what? I think I changed my mind. Company sounds great.”

  Her face broke into a beautiful smile that caused my insides to heat. “Really?”

  If I were smart, I would have turned and run. I had no business being around this woman, especially with the way she affected me, but she just looked so damn happy about the prospect of us having dinner together, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her no.

  “Yeah. But I don’t drink wine, so I hope you have beer.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder as she began moving to the back of the restaurant to get to the stairs. “I got you covered.”

  * * *

  Two hours later we were both sitting on the floor around Lilly’s coffee table, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed myself so much. Dinner had been eaten, she drank her wine, and I was on my third beer. True to her word, Lilly hadn’t pushed, so the conversation had been comfortable.

  “So what made you want to be a firefighter?” she asked, as she poured more wine into her glass. She’d had just enough to give her cheeks a nice, pink glow. Her brown eyes were just a touch glassy, but she wasn’t slurring her words. We were both totally at ease, which surprised the hell out of me.

  It was… nice being here, talking with her. Really fucking nice.

  “It’s what I’ve wanted to be for as long as I can remember.” Lifting my beer bottle to my lips, I finished the last of it before continuing. “My father’s retired PFD, so is my grandfather. It’s in the blood, I guess. Growing up, I wanted to be exactly like him. It scared the shit out of my mom that I wanted to make a career out of running into burning buildings, but my dad talked her around.” I laughed as a memory from my childhood popped into my head. “He used to bring his bunker gear home from the station to wash it. Hated using the machines at work. It drove my mom crazy, because it always stunk the mud room up, but I loved it. I’d sneak in there and put it
on every chance I got.”

  Lilly’s soft giggle caused my chest to expand. “Oh, I bet your mom loved that.”

  “She’d be pissed,” I grinned. “Always going on about how I was ruining my clothes putting that nasty, smelly stuff on, but Dad loved it. And she might have bitched, but I’m pretty sure she’d got an entire photo album of me in my dad’s gear.”

  “I bet you were adorable!” she cried.

  “I was rugged,” I answered with a glare. “I’ve never been adorable.”

  “Oh yeah,” she snorted. “You came out of the womb like that, all… lumber sexual and stuff.”

  “Lumber what?” I let out a bewildered laugh.

  “Lumber sexual. It’s like metro sexual, but manly, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  She waved me off and took another gulp of her wine. “Eh, you don’t need to know the meaning. Just take my word for it.”

  “If you say so,” I grinned. “So what about you? Have you always wanted to dance?”

  Her voice went soft, her expression wistful. “Yeah. I’ve been dancing since I was about eight. I started a little later than most, but once my mom put me in classes, I was hooked.”

  “You’re amazing,” I found myself admitting. “Why didn’t you go to New York or something like that?”

  Her face flushed, and something told me it wasn’t from the wine this time. “You’ve seen me dance?”

  “Yeah. Last week. I was getting in my truck after grabbing a coffee. The blinds to the studio were open and you were in there by yourself.” I stopped, thinking back to the sadness on her face that morning. “You were…”

  “Crying,” she whispered, and although she still wore a smile, I could see the sadness had returned. “Yeah. You kind of caught me on a bad day.”

  Suddenly I was aware of what I must have been putting my loved ones through, because even though I knew it wasn’t fair, I wanted to push her to talk about whatever was bothering her. Instead, I ignored that curious niggling in my gut and said, “You know, I might not be as good a listener as you are, but if you ever need to talk…”