by Amy Brent
“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 ha
d 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 truth.”
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.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I muttered, grabbing at the envelope and tearing it open in one rushed movement. I pulled out the thick sheaf of documents but it took me a moment to untangle the legal jargon that covered the crisp white pages.
“Well, what the hell does it say?” Jonah asked impatiently a moment before taking it from me and he nearly choked as his gaze skimmed the pages. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I leaned forward in the chair. “What is it? You snatched it before I could read everything.”
“It’s grandpa’s will. He left everything to mom when he died but it looks like it’s just sat there in limbo for nearly twenty years. I guess mom didn’t want the responsibility.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I muttered. Jonah gave me a look over the top of the documents before going back to reading.
“The property is on the outskirts of town. Bordering the woods. The Springs run right through it.” He cut off, his eyes widening and I leaned forward again.
“What? What is it, Jonah?”
“It’s over twenty acres.”
“What?”
“It’s over twenty acres of land, Quinn.” Jonah shook his head wonderingly, “Plus the ranch itself. It’s got to be worth something. We can sell it, pay off some of this debt–.”
“Sell it? We haven’t even seen it yet, Jonah,” I paused, looking over at him, “We have to at least go check it out.”
Finally, he sat back, placing the documents back in the envelope and in its spot in the middle of the table. He grew silent again and it took every ounce of willpower not to pepper him with the million questions that were running through my head.
After several interminable minutes, he got to his feet and headed towards the door.
“Wait, where are you going?” I asked, tracking his movements with my eyes. He didn’t glance back, just tossed the words over his shoulder as he left.
“I need to think.”
“Well, can’t you think here?” But it was a useless question. There was no one else there to answer it.
I sat there for a long time, my thoughts circling, my chest heavy with a strange mixture of emotion that I wasn’t nearly ready to try and untangle. My feelings for my parents had always been complicated but now, everything felt even more confusing. They had been gone for over ten years, but now it was final. They really were gone.
And it was only then that I realized the tiniest part of me had always thought they might come back. Tell me it was all some big mistake. That they never meant to leave us. That they loved me.
“Hah!” I barked out a bitter laugh as I grabbed a cold bottle of beer from the fridge, swigging back half of it. The only thing John Moore and Becca Mayhew had ever loved was themselves, and the drugs. There was never any room for anything else. Or anyone.
I took another drink, then looked around the shabby apartment. It was still exactly the same as the day I’d left and for a moment it was as if the last three years hadn’t even happened. But they had. I was different now. Stronger. Better, even if Jonah didn’t believe it. Not perfect, not by any means, but better.
I knew what I wanted now. What I’d always wanted. I would just have to find another way to go about getting it.
My gaze landed on my backpack, still sitting in the same spot on the counter where I’d haphazardly tossed it earlier. Suddenly, Leo was there in my mind. The explosive chemistry between us. That’s what I wanted. Another hour to sink into bliss, where I didn’t have to think about anything but the incredible pleasure he could give me.
Don’t be reckless, a soft voice whispered in my head. It sounded suspiciously like Jonah’s. Don’t be stupid.
“I’m done with letting other people tell me what to do,” I said quietly to the empty apartment. Not my parents. Not Jonah. Not my professors. “It’s time to do what I want.”
With a deep breath, I walked over to my bag and fished out the crumpled napkin that had fallen to the bottom.
Chapter 4
Leo
I took a sip of the amber liquid in front of me and grimaced as the fire caught at the back of my throat and burned all the way down. Fuck. I hadn’t been lying earlier. The whiskey at Lucky’s really was as caustic as motor oil. But it got the job done. By the second round, I was starting to feel the sweet buzz as the liquor got to work.
It didn’t seem to matter though. As much alcohol as I drank, it still didn’t help to banish the thought of her. Quinn. All I had to do was think of her name and her image appeared in my mind like a ghost.
Blond hair that curled like strands of sunlight past her shoulders. Those green eyes of hers that reminded me of searching for a lucky four leaf clover in the grass when I was a kid. Freckles were scattered carelessly across the bridge of her nose and swept onto her cheeks. And her mouth.
My body tightened at the memory of her mouth. Sweet and sinful all wrapped up into one. A devil in angel’s clothing. It was almost enough to have me drooling right there on the o
ld wooden bar top.
I shook off the thought, trying to ignore the twinge of warning in my gut. I was used to women running through my life like water, but something about this girl had me coming back again and again. And it was starting to drive me crazy.
Just one more night. One more night with her to get her out of my system. Then I’ll be back to normal. I nodded my head firmly at the thought. That was all I needed. One more night. But I didn’t even have her number. She had mine.
But that thought wasn’t much more comforting. Who says she’d even call? Who says she’d want to see me again?
What the fuck am I doing? Worrying about if some random hook up is going to call me back. Like a fucking teenaged guy with a HUGE crush.
And that wasn’t even the worst part. I’d gone and broke one of my hard and fast rules. Always use a condom. What the fuck was I thinking? I shook my head. That was the problem. I hadn’t been thinking.
One taste of her and I’d lost my mind, everything demanding that I take her hard and fast until she was screaming my name and then to do it all over again. My body still demanded, rising to attention at the memory.
“Fuck.” I shifted on the bar stool, trying to get more comfortable and to get my body back under control but it was pointless. One thought of Quinn and it was all downhill from there.
