by RB Hilliard
That night, Chaz and Olivia took me to a little neighborhood Italian place. We were immediately recognized, but instead of the usual frenzy, it was way more subdued. After posing for pictures and signing several autographs, we were free to enjoy our meal.
In the middle of picking at my ravioli, Olivia turned to me and said, “Promise not to be mad at me?”
“Fuck,” Chaz muttered.
Placing my fork on the side of my plate, I asked, “Now why would I possibly be mad at you?” Knowing full well that she’d either contacted Quinn and told her about my breakdown or had gone super crazy and done something like arrange an emotional intervention with Mallory and Rowan, which wouldn’t surprise me in the least. By the way she was biting her lip, I’d say it was both.
“I texted Quinn and told her you were staying with us.”
My brow shot up in surprise. “Is that all? I thought you probably set up an intervention with Mallory and Rowan.” She flinched and Chaz busted into laughter. “I’m supposed to call them when we get home tonight, so they can calmly discuss things with you.”
As it turned out, we didn’t make it to the intervention. The moment I powered on my phone, I was bombarded with a million voicemails, most of them from my attorney, Stan. Alex-Ann left me a few scathing messages, but there was only one text from Quinn.
I’m Sorry, it read. It was amazing how potent those two words could be.
I didn’t immediately respond to her text. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. At least, not yet. I missed her like crazy and loved her more than anything, but Chaz was right. I was punishing her for Mandy’s mistakes. This wasn’t fair to Quinn, and before going home to her, I needed to make sure I had a handle on it. We were going to argue in the future. I couldn’t pull out the Mandy card every time we did or I would be sure to lose her. That’s if I hadn’t already lost her. Just the thought made me want to jump on the next plane home to Houston. Instead, I called Stan back. and we spent the next hour on the phone. The judge was going to declare my marriage to Mandy legally void. It was over. Once the papers were signed, the nightmare would finally be over.
As it turned out, Ned Collier didn’t appreciate being made a fool of. After Bobby and Tut took off, he hired an attorney. As of yesterday, Mandy was brought up on charges of fraud, bigamy, and intent to commit bigamy. That was probably the reason she’d been harassing Quinn.
After telling Chaz and Olivia, I called both my father and Ehren and gave them the news. The person I really wanted to talk to, however, was Quinn. No offense to Chaz and Olivia, but the only person I wanted to be with, wanted to be sharing this moment with, was a million apologies away, and that’s when I knew it was time to go home.
Before crashing for the night, I opened my laptop and booked the first available flight from New York to Houston.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning, my phone rang. Normally, I would send it straight to voicemail, but something made me to check to see who was calling. Quinn’s name scrolled across the screen and my gut twisted.
Swiping my finger across the screen, I placed the phone to my ear. “Quinn?”
“Evan—” She was crying.
I sat up and flipped on the lamp. “I’m here. What’s wrong?” When she didn’t immediately answer, I panicked. “Talk to me, Quinn.”
“The bar is gone.” My lungs seized inside my chest.
“What? What happened? Are you hurt?”
“There was a fire. No one got hurt. It happened after we left. The whole thing is gone.”
“It’s okay, baby. I’m on my way home. Okay? I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
“Hurry,” she whispered.
“I’m hurrying. Just hold tight. I’m coming home...”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Stay a Little Longer”
Quinn
Margo’s was gone. As I stared at what was left of my father’s dream, I couldn’t help but think that this was my payback, my karmic revenge for not being upfront and honest with Evan, or for that matter, myself. I should have told him.
Last night after Evan walked out, I rushed home from Margo’s only to discover him gone. After crying myself silly, I sent him a text. I wanted to explain why I didn’t say something, to beg for forgiveness...to bare my soul, but after six tries—all of which sounded silly, I settled for two words; I’m sorry.
To Evan, life was black and white. A lie was a lie and it was as simple as that. To me, it was so much more. Nothing was simple about my decision not to tell him. Was I wrong? Yes. The moment I realized who Amanda was, I should have said something, but it wasn’t that easy. I was falling in love. I was scared. I was...a fool. Whoever said love makes you do stupid things hit the nail on the head. In the end, my fear of losing him made me do just that.
You’re just like her. Of all the things he’d said, this hurt the most. He was wrong. I was nothing like Amanda James.
I heard my name shouted and turned to see Alex-Ann barreling towards me. The minute she reached me, she threw her arms around me, and I burst into tears. I’d cried more in the past two days than in the past ten years.
“Oh no, Quinny, what happened?”
“I don’t know,” I sobbed. “The alarm company called right as I pulled up to the house and said that the fire alarm had been triggered and they had a truck on the way. When I got here, the place was pretty much gone. The fireman said liquor bottles acted as an accelerant. Once it hit the storage room there was nothing they could have done to save it.”
“Shit. We were just here.”
“I know. That’s all I can think about. What if it had been my night off or what if Sam had stayed late.”
“Have you called Evan?”
After the call from the alarm company, I jumped in the car and sped back to Margo’s. Two firetrucks were blocking the parking lot, so I had to park down the street and jog to the bar. When I saw the devastation, I fell apart. It took a nice fireman named Dave to talk me off the ledge. I could tell by the look on his face that he thought I was crazier than a squirrel on crack, but I didn’t care. Other than the house, the bar was the last thing I had of my dad. When he asked if there was someone I could call, I thought of Evan. Evan, who now hated me. Evan, who I still loved more than anything in this world. Evan, who was currently on his way home to break my heart into a million tiny pieces.
Of course, I didn’t say any of this to Alex-Ann. I simply said, “I called him and he says he’s coming home.”
Thinking about Evan brought on a fresh batch of tears. He may be coming home, but we both knew the score. It was over. I’d broken his trust. I’d broken us.
As I cried on Alex-Ann’s shoulder, she rubbed her hands up and down my back, while chanting “I don’t believe this is happening,” over and over again. I couldn’t either. Each time I thought I had a grip on my emotions, something else would set me off. How was I supposed to tell my mother? What was I going to do now? All of Dad’s things, the pictures, the memories, all of it, was just...gone.
Eventually, Gretchen, Sam, and Will found us, and as the night shifted to dawn, we watched the blaze die down to nothing but drifts of smoke.
“I’m so sorry. I know how much this place meant to each and every one of you,” I told them.
Alex-Ann huffed. “This isn’t on you.”
“I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did,” Sam muttered.
A strangled gasp shot from Gretchen’s lips and all eyes swiveled in her direction.
“What?” I asked as I wiped the tears off my face with the bottom of my t-shirt.
“You don’t think Baxter did this, do you?” Her question caught me off guard.
Will nodded his head. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”
“Everyone heard him threaten you, but God, Quinn, this is just...” Gretchen’s words trailed off as a police officer approached us. The same one who had questioned me earlier.
He nodded to the group before turning his gaze on me
. “Miss Kinley, it appears you left something out in our earlier discussion. I was talking with Mr. Grange, here, and he tells me that a Baxter Keen caused quite a scene at your bar last night.” My eyes cut to Will. Yes, Baxter had threatened me, but only because he was upset. As far as I was concerned, he had every right to be. Amanda had played him just like she’d played everybody else. Did I think he burned down my bar? No. That was more Amanda’s style, which made me wonder, where was she tonight?
“Baxter was upset,” I explained.
“Did he threaten you?”
“His fiancée had just broken off their engagement and he was upset by this.”
“Yes, but did he threaten you, Miss Kinley?” he repeated more forcefully. I thought about telling him no, but then remembered Evan and how that had turned out.
“He did, but I don’t think he meant anything by it. If anything, you should look into his fiancée.”
At the mention of Amanda, everyone started talking at once. The officer listened patiently to what we had to say before telling us he would look into both Baxter and Amanda.
Pending an investigation into the possibility of arson, the police cordoned off what remained of the bar as a crime scene. This meant that I wasn’t allowed to see if anything still remained. This also meant there was nothing more for us to do but go home.
“We’ll rebuild,” I told them. “We’ll make Margo’s bigger and better. Maybe we can even bring in live bands, you know, like Dad always talked about.” No one said a word.
Sam pulled me in for a hug, and I swallowed back a sob. I felt as if my whole world was ending. Evan was gone, and now, so was the bar. “Now’s not the time to make plans, darlin’. Now’s the time to go home and get some shut eye. We’ll have plenty of time to plan later, okay?” All I could manage was a nod.
Alex-Ann sidled up beside me. “Do you want me to come home with you?”
“No. I’m good. Sam’s right. We all need sleep. Love you guys,” I called out as everyone began to peel away and head for their cars.
While walking me to my car, Alex-Ann asked, “Do you know when Evan will be home?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Well, call me when you wake up. I’ll come over and we can watch movies or something.” I told her I would.
On the drive home, I cried for the loss of my father. While feeding the cats, I cried about the loss of Margo’s. In the shower, I cried because I’d hurt Evan, and when I hit the bed, I just plain cried for me.
A warm hand on my back woke me.
“Quinn?” The sound of his voice, the knowledge that he was here...in my house...on my bed, meant everything. Evan reared his head back when I suddenly sprang up and scrambled onto his lap. Hugging him to me, I buried my head in his neck and burst into tears.
“I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to add to your pain. Then I fell in love with you and I didn’t want you to leave me. I know it was wrong and I don’t blame you for leaving, but please, please forgive me,” I sobbed.
“Hey,” he cooed, which only made me cry harder. “Baby, stop crying.” His hand on my back slid up into my hair and began caressing my scalp. As I pulled myself together, it dawned on me that I was naked. I was naked and sitting in Evan’s lap. Evan’s very happy-to-see-me lap from the feel of it. Wiping my eyes on his shoulder, I loosened my hold around his neck just enough for me to tilt my head back. Green eyes filled with worry gazed down at me.
“I’m sorry I was a dick. I didn’t think, I just reacted. You’re nothing like Mandy. I know that. Our relationship isn’t even in the same stratosphere. The whole Baxter thing caught me by surprise and instead of letting you explain, I ran.” With the lightest of touches, he brushed his lips across mine. “I’m sorry.” He kissed me again, this time adding the slightest swipe of his tongue. “Please forgive me.” Was it wrong to feel so happy and so sad at the same time? Because that’s exactly how I felt. Evan was back, but the bar was still gone.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I know. I am, too.”
“The bar is gone, Evan. There’s nothing left.”
Pressing a kiss to my forehead, he said, “Come on. Let’s get you dressed and get some coffee in you. Then we’ll talk.”
By the time we made it outside to the rockers, it was past coffee and well into beer time. While drinking our beers, Evan held my hand, and as we watched the sun set, I told him about Margo’s. When I mentioned what Gretchen had said about it being Baxter and that I thought it sounded more like Amanda, Evan told me about last night’s phone call with the lawyer.
“So... what does that mean? It’s over?” I asked, my heart thrumming ninety to nothing in my chest.
His head turned, his gaze shifting from the horizon to me. “No, Country. It means it’s just begun.”
Butterflies took flight in my stomach as he took the beer from my hand and set it next to his on the porch. Then, pulling me from the chair, he led me into the house and up the stairs to my bedroom, where he slowly stripped me of my clothes—one piece at a time. When we were both fully naked, he lay me on the bed, where first, he brought me to orgasm with his fingers. Then he used his tongue. Only when he had me out of my mind with pleasure, did he enter me. Using slow, deliberate strokes, he took me to the top of the world. We came together. We were together. And if I had my way, we would always be together.
The next morning, Evan sat on the porch with me while I called my mother. I had to start and stop a few times, but I finally managed to get it out. I held my breath, waiting for her tears. Surprisingly, they didn’t come.
“I’m sorry, baby girl. I know how much you and your daddy loved that place, but I’ve gotta say, I’m relieved.” I sucked in a shocked breath. “We both know Margo’s isn’t enough. You need to live, Quinn. Now’s your chance to spread your wings. If that means running off with your rock star, then do it. If it means moving to Antarctica and chasing after polar bears, then do it. I just want you to be happy.
“I love you, Mama,” I said through my tears.
“Love you, too, baby...”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Burn the Witch”
Evan
Quinn believes that everything happens for a reason, that by giving good, you will get good back. I grew up believing that good or bad, shit just happened. You deal with it and move on. But then I met Quinn, and in a matter of eight months, everything changed. I was no longer an emotionally crippled man picking my way through this thing called life. I was living it. Feeling it. Loving every second of it. I wasn’t necessarily wrong in my beliefs. Shit did happen. Both Mandy’s betrayal and the bar burning down were beyond shitty, but sometimes, out of the awful...comes something good. Quinn was my good.
A few weeks after the fire, I received a phone call from my lawyer. Mandy, apparently, wanted to speak to me. At first, my answer was no, but then he explained how she’d been hospitalized after showing signs of instability and that the doctor evaluating her felt it would be a good thing for us to talk. He assured me that she was still being held accountable for her actions and would most-likely spend time in either jail or a facility of sorts. I would be lying if I said I didn’t care. I’d spent nine years of my life, even more if I counted high school, with her. That it had come to this, was just...sad.
After several talks with Quinn, I changed my mind. I wanted to know why. No, I deserved to know why.
A few days later, my phone rang. It was Mandy’s doctor. She explained that, due to the medication, Mandy may not sound like herself. This caught me off guard. What medication? When I questioned it, she said that she would let Mandy explain.
She handed the phone to Mandy, and in a stilted, wooden, very clinical sounding voice, Mandy said, “Hello, Evan. I appreciate you talking to me.” What the hell? I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there in silence, waiting for her to explain herself. Talk about awkward. Finally, she started talking. She told me she’d been diagnosed with something called A
thazagoraphobia, or a fear of being alone. Without me asking, she went on to explain how everyone she’d ever loved had left her. I let her babble for a few more minutes before cutting to the chase. I wanted to know about the fake pregnancy, the fake wedding, and all of the lies. I wanted to know why. Her answer— It was all because of this so-called affliction.
I was skeptical to say the least, but I also knew that something had to be seriously wrong with her. One doesn’t go out and collect husbands for the hell of it. But then, she asked if I would vouch for her in a court of law. As in, wanted me to testify on her behalf. Was she nuts? And that’s when I got it. She really was mental. She found some poor doctor and conned her into buying into her bullshit lies. Mandy was sick alright, but it wasn’t Athazawhatsitcalled. It was something much worse. The saddest part of the whole thing was her surprise when I told her no.
As I sat in the upstairs living area listening to her drone on about her newly discovered ailment, I made peace with the fact that I would probably never know why. I decided that I was okay with this. In fact, I was better than okay. I was finally free.
That afternoon, I drove to the phone store and did something I’d been needing to do for months; I changed my number.
Four days later, Quinn got the call we’d been waiting for. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what we wanted to hear. According to the detective who’d been investigating the fire at Margo’s, neither Baxter Keen nor Amanda James could have been responsible. Amanda wasn’t even in Houston that night and Baxter had been with his brother. They were still conducting an arson investigation, but had officially ruled out our only suspects.
At the beginning of September, as promised, Quinn’s mother came to visit. I could tell she wasn’t crazy about my tattoos, but that didn’t matter because she was crazy about me. Even more so, she was crazy about me with her daughter. We spent the better part of a week planting fall flowers around the house. Or I should say, Quinn and her mother did. I helped, but mostly I worked on the song that had been brewing in my head.
