Rifts and Refrains

by Devney Perry

“So are you all set for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yeah. What time do you want to fly out?”

  “Not too early. I flew in late last night. Getting here this morning nearly killed me. Why does church start so early?”

  I laughed. “It’s nine.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Let’s leave around noon.” That would give us plenty of time to make it to Seattle and settle in. My couch was calling and I wanted to get takeout from my favorite sushi place and curl up with a book.

  Home.

  My other home.

  Would it feel strange to be in my apartment after a week in Montana?

  “Are you going to say goodbye?” Nixon asked.

  “To who? My parents? Uh, yeah. I’m staying with them.”

  “No, dummy. To Graham.”

  “Oh.” I stared at the door where he’d disappeared. “Uh . . . I don’t know.”

  We’d parted ways last night without issue. Wasn’t that enough?

  Was there a goodbye to say?

  Or would it be better if I played it like last time and simply walked away?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Graham

  “Let’s go, Colin!” I hollered from the edge of the church’s playground.

  “Five more—”

  “No. It’s time to go.”

  His shoulders fell as he shuffled down the bridge between the monkey bars and stairs leading to the slide. The other kids screamed and laughed around him. He gave Evan a weak wave goodbye as his lower lip jutted out over his chin.

  No matter how long he played, he wanted five more minutes. He’d be the last kid standing and still want five more minutes.

  But I needed to get out of here.

  Seeing Quinn cuddled up with Nixon was unbearable.

  I knew they had something going on. I fucking knew it. There was a reason that tabloids speculated.

  The pictures of them together over the years had been of them touching. Hugging. Laughing. There’d been one of them holding hands about a year ago that had bothered me so much that I’d decided to unfollow Quinn.

  It was too much to witness on social media.

  It was definitely too much to see in my own church.

  One more day.

  She’d be gone tomorrow. Life would return to normal. Now that she’d come back, I’d have a better chance at moving on.

  All these years, the hours I’d spent thinking about her . . . it was time to put it away.

  I could send her off and be grateful that she’d made a positive impression on my kid. As she’d played with Colin yesterday afternoon, I’d watched and listened in. When I’d caught her sitting on the floor of Colin’s room, reading him a book, the sight had damn near brought me to my knees.

  Because I’d let myself for one desperate, hopeful second wonder how incredible it would be if that was permanent. I’d imagined Quinn filling the hole as Colin’s mother.

  But he didn’t need a mother. Definitely not one who lived her life on the road, had no qualms about ignoring her family and was okay with playing two men.

  She’d had sex with me.

  Me.

  And there she’d been, cuddled up to Nixon.

  Had she gone to him after leaving my house last night? Fuck me. Jealousy was a nasty bitch.

  “Do we have to go?” Colin asked, his eyes pleading as he reached my side.

  “Yeah. You can play longer next week.” I put my hand on his shoulder and guided him toward the parking lot. I’d ditched my guitar in the storage area in the church’s basement. The keys were in my hand and we were out of here. I hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye to my parents. “Should we do something special today? Just the two of us?”

  “Like what?” he asked as I opened the rear door to my pickup.

  “Hop in and get buckled. Then we’ll talk about it.”

  There was a steady stream of people leaving the church now and we melded right in with traffic. “Want to hike the M? We could pack a picnic lunch.”

  “Peanut butter and jelly?” The pout on his face disappeared. “Can we get some Doritos too?”

  “You got it.”

  The M was the collegiate letter from Montana State and an enormous setup of white rocks on a mountainside that could be seen from everywhere in the Gallatin Valley. It was an easy hike for me, more challenging for Colin, and if I had to, I’d let him ride on my shoulders for a stretch. Some physical activity might improve my mood—and the air clear my head. At this point, I’d do anything to stop thinking about how easily Quinn had fit into Nixon’s side.

  I drove straight home and made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while Colin changed out of his church clothes. I swapped out my dark-wash jeans and white button-up for a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt. Then we spent the rest of the morning hiking up a dirt trail, smiling and waving at the people we passed on the way. Colin and I reached the top, sat on a bench and devoured our sandwiches.

  The distraction helped but only marginally. Quinn’s face lurked in the not-so-dark corners of my mind, and the trail itself didn’t exactly help. That was the problem with Bozeman. There weren’t many places I could go that I hadn’t been with Quinn. The two of us had hiked this route a dozen times as teenagers.

  Things would get better once she left.

  Tomorrow. I only had to make it until tomorrow, and there was no reason to see her before then.

  “What should we do next?” I asked Colin before taking a drink from a water bottle. The last place I wanted to go was home, where her sweet perfume still lingered on my sheets and in the air. I hadn’t gotten around to washing those sheets after all. “How about fishing?”

  I’d never taken Quinn fishing.

  “Yes!” His smile beamed.

  “Let’s do it.” I clapped and stowed our gear.

  Colin and I hiked down the mountain, swung by the house for fishing poles and went to a local pond where they stocked fish for kids. I would have preferred the solitude of the river, but I’d wanted to guarantee Colin a catch. He’d reeled in and released twelve before we’d called it a day.

  After fishing, we went for ice cream. After ice cream, we went to the hardware store, a place Colin loved nearly as much as his father because there was always someone selling puppies in the parking lot on the weekends. We went out for cheeseburgers and fries, not Audrey’s because Quinn had now ruined my favorite place and I couldn’t stomach Chinese either.

  I spent the entire day with my son, savoring his smile and his laugh.

  I spent the entire day trying not to think about Quinn.

  There were only a handful of minutes where I’d actually succeeded.

  It was getting close to seven and I still wasn’t ready to go home, but Monday morning and a busy week loomed on the horizon, so I conceded defeat and came home to get Colin into the shower.

  “That was a fun day.” He yawned as I tucked him into bed.

  “It was fun.”

  “Can we do that every Sunday?”

  “Yeah, why not.” We’d do hiking and fishing in the summers. We’d ski, snowmobile or snowshoe in the winter.

  “Yes.” He fist pumped under his quilt.

  “Sleep well, bud.” I dropped a kiss to his forehead. “Love you.”

  “Love you too, Daddy.”

  Daddy. My kid could slice me open with one word.

  The times he called me Daddy were getting fewer and further between these days. But when he’d slip one in on the rare occasion, my heart would melt.

  I kissed him one more time and picked up the book we’d read—or he’d read. I’d made him read tonight for some summer reading practice. With the book returned to its shelf, I eased from his room. His eyes were closed before I shut off his light and carefully closed the door.

  The dim house was lit only by the fading sun streaming through the windows. It always seemed too quiet this time of night, after Colin was in bed and his chatter was noticeably absent. I went to the kitchen and filled a g
lass with water, drinking it as I leaned against the counter.

  What I needed was a project to tackle for a few hours each evening. Remodeling the kitchen would be a pain in the ass but starting it this summer would be better than waiting until fall. I could cook on the grill for dinner and wheel the fridge into the living room. We could survive for a month or two, right?

  Tomorrow, I’d get up early and run some numbers. If cabinets were in the budget, I’d get measurements taken and new ones ordered. While I was at it, the floors should be replaced too. My goal was to extend the hardwood I’d run in the hallway by the bedrooms through the entire house. If I was going to bring it into the kitchen, I might as well lay it in the living and dining rooms too.

  A project, something guaranteed to distract me, sent a jolt of excitement through my veins.

  When I’d been house shopping, I’d told my real estate agent to find me the oldest, shittiest place on a nice street in a decent school district. It had taken him six months, but when this house had come on the market, we’d pounced. It was the only one on the block that hadn’t been remodeled in the past fifteen years. I’d had to go ten thousand above asking with a quick close to buy it.

  I’d spent the past four years making updates and improvements when there was a bit of extra money to spend. The finishes were as nice as those I’d put in a Hayes-Montgomery house, and I’d worked room by room, starting with Colin’s. He’d spent a lot of nights in my bed, sleeping on my chest while his room was being fixed up.

  I missed those days too, when he’d stick his head in my neck and sleep sideways but somehow manage to contort his feet into my ribs at the same time.

  Why put off for tomorrow what I could do tonight? There was nothing waiting in my bedroom but thoughts of Quinn.

  I swiped my laptop from the kitchen counter and fired it up, taking it to the dining room table along with a beer from the fridge. The numbers came together, and I mentally decided to pull the trigger. It was dark outside, but there was no reason not to start on measurements.

  Just as I’d pushed away from the table, a flash of headlights in the front window caught my eye.

  My stomach knotted. “Keep driving.”

  The car slowed.

  I knew before the back door opened that it was Quinn. She climbed out, said something to the driver and away he went.

  “Son of a bitch.” The beer bottle got fisted and slammed to my lips, the liquid sliding down my throat in long gulps.

  What was she doing here? Wasn’t she supposed to be leaving?

  Didn’t she have Nixon to keep her bed warm tonight?

  She spotted me through the glass as she walked, her stride stuttering a step. If she could sense my glare, it didn’t turn her away, and I grumbled as she lightly rapped on the door.

  I strode to the door, flipped the deadbolt with a clunk that mimicked the feel of my sinking heart and I took in her unsmiling face.

  “Hey.” She looked nervous and the normally rosy color of her cheeks was missing.

  “What’s up?” My tone was short and clipped. I doubted it would scare her away, nothing I’d done this week had alienated her, but it was worth a last-ditch effort.

  “I, um . . . I wanted to say goodbye.”

  “Colin’s asleep already.”

  “I figured.”

  Then she’d come to say goodbye to me. “Can we not do this? I’m not interested in Nixon’s leftovers. If you need a man’s bed tonight, go to his.”

  Her mouth parted and she blinked, but the shock lasted a nanosecond before she fixed me with a death glare that only Quinn Montgomery could summon.

  Shiiiiiit. I was an asshole.

  “Don’t you dare speak to me like I’m a whore, Graham Hayes. Don’t you fucking dare.”

  “I—oh, hell. I’m sorry.” What was wrong with me? My mother would have slapped me across the face for that remark. I ran a hand over my hair and pushed the door open wider. “Come in.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. Her feet didn’t move.

  “Please?”

  “Fine.” She stepped past me, careful not to touch.

  Quinn had turned me inside out and I wasn’t myself. I didn’t speak to women this way. Ever. It had to be because of the sex. I’d become a jealous and insensitive prick because she’d climbed into my bed.

  “Want a beer? I’m having another one.” Maybe two.

  “Sure.” She sat in a chair in the living room while I went to the fridge, returning with opened bottles. “Thanks.”

  I sat on the couch, the seat farthest from her, and drained half my beer. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

  “Around noon.”

  I nodded, keeping my gaze on the floor because I didn’t trust what might come out of my mouth.

  Quinn took a swig of her beer, looking anywhere but at me, until the silence droned on and she caved first. “Walker said the house you guys are working on is coming along. He said it’s going to be massive.”

  “It’s for a rich guy with money to burn. You probably know how that feels.” I cringed the second the words were out of my mouth. I didn’t fault her for her money and wasn’t exactly sure why I’d decided to throw it in her face.

  “This was a bad idea.” She set her beer aside and stood. “I’m going to go.”

  “Damn it. No. Sorry. I’m in a shit mood.”

  “Am I the reason?”

  “Partly,” I admitted.

  “And the other part?”

  “Nixon.”

  “Nixon?” She sat down on the edge of the chair, ready to race for the door if I screwed up one more time. “What did he do?”

  “He had his hands all over you,” I grumbled. “In church.”

  “It was a hug.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “And you’re jealous.”

  “Yep.” I tipped the beer bottle to my lips. There was no use denying it. My skin was probably green.

  “Well, there’s no reason. Nixon and I are friends. Nothing more.”

  “That’s not how it looks to the outside world.”

  “Photographs are deceiving. There’s news and then there’s celebrity news. I’m not sure if either are really true. So why don’t you ask me the question on your mind instead of sulking in your chair.”

  I swallowed. Braced. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “No. Never.”

  The knot in my stomach loosened. “All these years, I’d see pictures and wonder if he was the reason you didn’t come home. I wondered if you were keeping your relationship a secret.”

  “I haven’t been in an actual relationship with anyone in a . . . a long time.”

  “How long? Specifically.”

  Her shoulders fell. “Nine years.”

  The same was true for me. There’d been a few casual hookups but nothing with a commitment.

  It would be easy to pin the blame on Colin. He’d been my go-to excuse for declining dates. But the truth was, I just wasn’t interested in falling in love again. If it had been love.

  “Was it real?” I whispered. “Was it love?”

  “I thought so.”

  So did I. “Do you think if we would have tuned everyone out, if we would have just ignored them, things would have been different? That maybe we would have come out of that fight together?”

  “I don’t know.” She sunk deeper into the chair. “Maybe.”

  “Or maybe they were right. Maybe we were too young. Maybe us splitting up was inevitable.”

  “I am sorry, Graham.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry for hurting you. For leaving like I did.”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  That apology was nearly a decade in the making and the words were heavy on my tongue. But then a piece of my chest loosened, like the last thread of a fraying rope clinging to the past finally broke free.

  “I used to think about that day a lot,” I told her. “The fight. And I wondered what I could have said that would have made things different.”

  “
That you’d come with me.”

  “I almost did. But . . .” Those doubts had gotten louder after she’d left. My friends had taunted me to play the field, get some experience. Adults, even my parents, hadn’t seemed to understand that my heart had been broken. Sure, they’d been sympathetic for a few weeks, but they’d expected me to bounce back and move on with life. Date other girls.

  Except I hadn’t wanted other girls.

  “The truth is, I thought you’d come back.”

  “I figured.” She dropped her eyes to her lap. “You thought I wouldn’t make it and give up.”

  “What? No. I thought you’d come back to visit. Then, you didn’t. But I always knew you’d make it.”

  Her chin lifted. “You did?”

  “Any idiot who listens to you play piano or the drums or sing would know you were meant for greatness. I just never expected you to forget us.”

  “I didn’t forget, Graham. It was just . . . easier. Cowardly. Things got so crazy and so hard, I needed easy.”

  “I get that.” In her position, at that age, I might have done the same.

  She picked up her beer, sipping it as I finished my own. “You followed me? On Instagram?”

  “Yeah.” Or, I used to, but I kept that to myself.

  “Why?”

  Why follow the woman who’d broken my heart? Because there wasn’t a moment in my life when I’d hated Quinn Montgomery, no matter how hard I’d tried. Even when she’d been eight and had broken the Lego pirate ship I’d spent two weeks building.

  “I was a coward too. Following you, being one of many, was easier than asking Nan for your number. I didn’t want to miss it when you stretched your wings. And, Quinn . . . you soared. I’m so damn proud of you.”

  I didn’t want her to leave here and not know that.

  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’m glad we had this chance to clear the air. I’m just sorry it didn’t happen a long time ago.”

  “Same here.”

  She stood, setting her bottle aside. “I’d better get going. Let you get back to work.”

  I followed her to the door, holding it as she stepped into the night. “I’ll wait until your Uber gets here.”

  “Thanks.” She took out her phone and her fingers flew over the screen. “Five minutes.”