Cheat Codes

by Emily Goodwin

  I didn’t think it was possible to have better sex that we did the first time, but I feel confident to say we just topped it. Reaching for the water bottle on the nightstand, I take a drink and grab the sheet, pulling it up over us. We’re both hot and sweaty now, but with the ceiling fan going on high, we’ll cool off fast and I don’t want Quinn to get a chill. She’s still fighting a cold and has to be worn out after the marathon sex we just had.

  I know I am.

  “That was more than thirty minutes,” she says once she catches her breath and moves onto her side. I wrap her in my arms.

  “I’m not sorry about that.”

  “You’ve set a high standard for yourself,” she says with a coy smile.

  “I always aim to please, babe.”

  Quinn laughs and runs her fingers through my hair. “You did. Multiple times.”

  “Once is never enough. You’re so fucking sexy when you come.”

  She smiles, and a little dimple forms on her cheek. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to be as hot and sexy as she is while at the same time being fucking adorable. They’re opposite qualities and yet Quinn exhibits them both at the same time.

  “And you’re sexy when you make me come.”

  I kiss the side of her neck and feel my heart start to slow. We got dinner from a food truck, and Quinn introduced me to a Chicago-style hot dog. We sat along the lake as we ate, talking and laughing, and finished the date with a ride on the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier.

  Everything was perfect.

  “I don’t want you to go,” Quinn says softly.

  “I don’t want to go either.”

  “I’ve never been in a long-distance relationship before,” she tells me, tracing a line of muscle on my chest with her fingertips.

  “I haven’t either. And I feel like I should tell you I’ve only had one long-term relationship before.”

  “Really?” She doesn’t try to hide her shock. “Why? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it’s my bed you’re in right now, but you’re a total catch, Dr. Jones.”

  “I never found that right person, I guess,” I say, holding back the words that want to come up. She wants to take things slow. Telling her I’ve never been able to date anyone because I’ve been in love with her is the opposite of slow, right?

  I’m not good with this stuff.

  “And I guess I could say the same.”

  I push myself up on my elbow, tucking her hair behind her ear. This is my in, the perfect timing to tell her the fate of the universe was holding out on us all this time because together is where we’re meant to be.

  But then her phone rings and Quinn’s face pales when she sees the name on the caller ID.

  “Dean,” we both say together, feeling like we got caught red-handed.

  “He never calls me,” she mumbles, sitting up. The blankets fall off her breasts, and even though I was up close and personal with every inch of her mere minutes ago, the sight of her naked causes my dick to jump and my heart to race. “I’m not going to answer.”

  “See what he wants,” I rush out, conflicted myself about not answering and being curious about what he has to say. “He’s not going to yell at you, Quinn. Not yet at least.”

  She makes a face and answers the phone. “Hello?” She pauses. “Oh, hey, Kara. Really? That’s exciting. Yeah, my work email is fine. It’s the one I check most often anyway. Next weekend?” She looks at me, nodding along to whatever Kara is saying. “I was thinking of coming into town anyway. Would Thursday night work instead? I’ll be in Thursday night and Friday morning instead this time.” Another long pause. “Great, see you then.”

  Quinn hangs up and tosses the phone on the bed. She falls back onto the pillows and reaches for me.

  “What was that about?”

  “Kara said she wants to look at bridesmaid dresses and was wondering if I’m coming into town next weekend. At least we have a cover.”

  I pull her into an embrace, resting my hand on top of her slender abdomen. She told me she thinks she’s started to look bloated, but I can’t tell the difference yet. I close my eyes, hearing our baby’s strong heartbeat echo in my head.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I promise. “We’ll get through it together.”

  “Dude. What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam turns away from the TV, eyeing me as he waits for an answer. It’s Thursday afternoon, and I’m packed and ready to drive north to Eastwood. I promised Quinn everything would be okay, and I really believe it will, but damn I’m starting to get nervous.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t bullshit me. You know what I’m talking about. You disappeared for a few days last week and you’re going away again. Not that I care, and I only hope you’re getting laid, but this isn’t you, man.”

  I look at Sam, let out a breath, and lean against the wall. Sam and I got paired together during surgery enough back when we were new residents to become friends. We roomed together more out of convenience since neither of us planned to stay here long-term and we both wanted to pay off our student loans as fast as possible, but we’ve become good friends over the years and knowing we have to part ways soon sucks.

  “You know how you told me to fuck Quinn out of my system?”

  “Are you finally taking my advice?”

  I shake my head. “I already did.”

  “No shit! When?”

  “Remember that conference I went to? It was in Chicago. Quinn lives in Chicago.”

  “Right, you mentioned that. But that was weeks ago. Don’t tell me my method didn’t work. It’s foolproof.”

  “I’m not even going to get into that right now.”

  “I was right, wasn’t I?” he goes on. “You found out she was a dirty whore or something. I told you, you had her on a pedestal.”

  Sam is, well, Sam, and he’s always crude. He plays the hot-shot doctor more often than he doesn’t, and thinking of Quinn hiding a giggle when she meets him and flashing me a telling look helps to calm me down.

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” I snap.

  “Then what the hell is wrong?”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  Sam stares at me for a good ten seconds. “And you’re the…”

  “Yep.”

  Sam blinks, leaning back on the couch. “Fuck. Did she just tell you?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve known for a while.”

  “So those trips you took ‘for interviews’ were bullshit.”

  “The last one was. I’ve been seeing her. We’re together now and are telling her family tonight.”

  “Isn’t her brother your friend?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sam laughs. “Good luck.”

  “Fuck you.”

  He grabs his beer from the coffee table. “When you’ve been beat to shit and go in for surgery, ask for me.”

  “You think you’re so fucking funny.”

  “I know I am.” He takes a long swig of beer. “Fuck. Just—fuck. She’s keeping it?”

  “Yeah. We both want it. Her brothers, and her dad, and probably her mom, are going to hate me, but yeah, I definitely want it. And I want her.”

  Sam looks away from the TV, turning around to face me. “You really love this chick, don’t you?”

  “I have for years,” I admit out loud for the first time.

  “Then go get her. Start your family.”

  There are only two places to stay when visiting Eastwood if you don’t have a friend or family member to crash with. One is the Whippoorwill Bed and Breakfast, and the nicer of the two options. It’s where I stayed weeks ago, the first time I came back to Eastwood in years. And it might be where I’m staying tonight, based on how the situation goes when Quinn and I break the news to her parents.

  Currently, I’m parked on the street downtown, waiting for Quinn. No one knows I’m coming into town with her, and she thought it was best to arrive together. She’s getting panicked about this, and as much as I’m
trying to tell her—and myself—that it’s really not that big of a deal, her anxiety is getting to me.

  Not because I’m worried what will happen to my friendship with Dean. I already know he’s not going to react well. It’ll hurt to lose him. Hell, it’ll hurt to lose Owen and Logan, but it’s not me I’m worried about.

  I can handle it.

  But Quinn…it’ll kill her to have her family upset at her. And she really needs them right now. Quinn is a family-oriented person, and even though she hasn’t said anything to me, I know how upset she is to not be going through this pregnancy with her mother.

  I look up, feeling Quinn’s presence before I see her. She parks across the street, smiling when she sees me. I grab my bag and get out of the car.

  “Hey,” I say as I slide into the passenger seat, leaning in to kiss her. A quick peck turns into something more, and I can’t pull away. Blood rushes to my cock, and the pain of being separated from Quinn for days rushes back. Long-distance relationships suck ass.

  “You know,” she says, unbuckling so she can turn in and kiss me back. “There’s a cornfield on the way to my parents’ house that’s a notorious make-out spot.”

  “I want to fuck you, Quinn,” I growl and kiss her hard. Quinn lets out a moan and reaches over the center console, slipping her hand between my thighs.

  “On second thought, I think we should both stay at the bed and breakfast tonight.”

  “I said I want to fuck you, and I plan on it no matter where we are.”

  Quinn cups my balls through my pants and bites her lip. “I enjoyed phone sex this week, but it’s not as good as the real thing.”

  “Not at all. Though those pictures you sent…you are so hot, Quinn.”

  “I like when you say my name, Archer Jones.” She grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it up.

  “As much as I hate saying this, we need to stop.” I take Quinn’s hand. “Or Weston will get a call that his sister is being arrested for indecent exposure.”

  Quinn blushes. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  She pulls her seatbelt back across her body and gets her phone from her purse. “Owen and Logan just got to my parents’. Ready?”

  I reach over and take Quinn’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  Quinn puts her Porsche in drive and fiddles with the radio the entire way to her parents’ house. We park behind Weston’s squad car, and I take Quinn’s hand and we walk inside together.

  The dogs come running, and the smell of chicken enchiladas fills the air. Laughter echoes through the house, and that instant feel-good aura the Dawson farm holds sets in. This place is safe and warm. It’s welcoming and full of comfort. It was my reprieve in college when Bobby was at the height of his addiction.

  “Quinn!” Kara says, looking up from the wine she’s trying to open. “And Archer?”

  “Hey, Kara,” I say. Quinn pets each dog and goes over to give Kara a hug. She pulls a bottle of wine from her large purse.

  “Oh!” Kara squeals. “That’s the good stuff!”

  “Yeah, from that little winery in Chicago you all love.”

  “Let’s crack it open.”

  I crouch down and pet Rufus, noticing more and more gray fur around his eyes. He leans into me, turning his head up so I can scratch under his chin. Kara grabs two wine glasses, and Quinn fills them both up. Kara takes one, and Quinn takes the other. I look at the wine and then at Quinn.

  “You can’t drink,” I whisper.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Should have told me that sooner, doctor. I’ve been boozing it up every night.” She waits a beat for Kara to step farther ahead. “It’s for my mom. I figure liquoring her up won’t hurt.”

  Now that I’m here, I’m no longer nervous. The timing isn’t right, and we might have started things a little backward, but it’ll work out in the end.

  I know it will.

  “There you are!” Mrs. Dawson says, smiling when she sees Quinn. And then her eyes go to me, brows furrowing for just a split second. She’s surprised to see me, but not in a bad way. “Archer!” She gets up, giving Quinn a quick hug and coming over to me. “What are you doing here? Does this mean you took the job at our county hospital?”

  “Not quite,” I say, though I did get invited back for a second interview.

  “Here, Mom.” Quinn shoves the glass of wine into her mom’s hand. “It’s from that place in Chicago you like.”

  Mrs. Dawson takes a sip. “I do like this. Thanks, Quinn. Go ahead and sit, kids. I’ll grab another place setting for Archer.”

  “Finally,” Owen grumbles to Quinn. “Mom’s been making us wait for you.”

  Quinn raises her eyebrows. “You’ve only been here for like ten minutes, and your beer is still full. You guys just sat down.”

  “You’re too damn smart,” Owen says with a smile.

  “Language,” Mr. Dawson reminds him, looking at Jackson. “Little ears are at the table tonight.”

  Quinn goes around to Jackson, picking him up and giving him a big hug. I don’t mean to smile as I watch her, thinking how she’ll get to do the same with our kid.

  “Hey, man,” Dean says. “Didn’t know you were coming. Are you taking that job?”

  Quinn looks over the table at me. She knows about the second interview, but the last time we talked, we both agreed it wasn’t for me. Though seeing her with Jackson, surrounded by her family is making me reconsider.

  “It hasn’t been offered yet, but I don’t know.”

  “It’s a small hospital,” Quinn says, setting Jackson down. “And you want to get into a trauma fellowship.”

  “More school?” Logan asks, eyebrows raised. “You like torture, don’t you?”

  “I guess I do.”

  Quinn comes back around the table, taking a seat next to me. Weston eyes Quinn and then me several times, and I pretend like I don’t notice. Mrs. Dawson sets a placemat, a plate, a full glass of ice water, and silverware down in front of me. Quinn scoots her chair a little closer to mine, and I slip my hand into hers and give it a squeeze. Meals at the Dawsons’ are always served family-style, and we all fill our plates. Quinn pushes her food around, not eating. She’s still dealing with constant nausea, and the nerves aren’t helping.

  “Well, since you’re all here,” Kara starts, a big smile breaking out over her face. She turns to Dean, smile growing even more. “We picked a date for the wedding!”

  Mrs. Dawson cheers and Quinn looks relieved she has some time. “When?”

  “March sixteenth. I know it’s a little soon, but it falls on my spring break and the arboretum just happened to have a cancelation. I got on the wait list the day after Dean proposed and when they called to see if I wanted the date, I knew it was fate!”

  Quinn turns her head down, eyes wide. March sixteenth is two days before our baby’s due date.

  25

  Quinn

  I need a drink. A big one. With lots and lots of alcohol. I close my eyes in a long blink, praying I misheard Kara.

  “That’s less than a year away!” Mom exclaims. “Do you think you can get everything ready in time?”

  March isn’t that far away, she’s right. And there is a lot to do before then, and I’m not thinking about the wedding.

  “I think we can swing it,” Kara says. “I’ll have to get right to work, I know, and my mom’s already on it.” She looks back at Dean, smiling. “We don’t want anything fancy, anyway.”

  I bring my hand to my head, subconsciously rubbing the space between my jaw and my ear. It’s been hurting off and on since last weekend, and I knew I should have listened to Archer about a sinus infection lingering for longer than normal now that I’m pregnant.

  “Are you okay, hun?” Mom asks, and I flick my eyes up to her.

  “Oh, yeah. I think I have an ear infection, that’s all,” I blurt. I should have made something up, but I’ve never been a good liar and not telling the truth is as bad as lying in Mom’s book.r />
  “I thought you said you were feeling better,” Archer says, turning to me.

  “I was,” I say guiltily. “But I got busy with work and started feeling crappy again. You were right about the cold turning into something more.”

  “Wait a minute,” Weston says, eyes narrowing. It clicks in my mind right before he says it. “Why does Archer know you were sick?”

  Dean stares at me before shifting his gaze to Archer. “Is he your doctor or something now?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Damn you, Archer. Stop being so genuinely concerned for me, why don’t ya?

  I inhale, look at Archer, and give him a tiny nod. “No, he’s not my doctor now. He’s my boyfriend.”

  Dean lets out a snort. “Funny.”

  Archer puts his arm around me, and I lean in, needing his support. “Quinn and I are dating,” he says, voice steady. “That’s why I came to dinner tonight. We wanted to tell you.”

  Silence falls over the table. No one talks. No one breathes. And then Dean’s fist comes down on the table.

  “You’re dating my sister?”

  “Dean,” Mom scolds, sticking to her don’t raise your voice at the dinner table rules.

  “My sister?” Dean repeats, looking at Logan, Owen, and Weston. He expects them to be outraged like he is. Weston gives me a guilty look, feeling bad for outing us. Logan’s expression is unreadable, and Owen, that asshole, is amused.

  “What the hell, man?” Dean waves his hand out in front of him. “Did you even think to stop and ask my permission before you made a move on her?”

  “Permission?” I echo. “Seriously, Dean? Like I need your approval before I date someone. Like I need any of your approval.”

  Wrong choice of words. Everyone starts talking at once. Jackson gets up from the table, running into the kitchen while no one is looking.

  “You don’t own me,” I retort, narrowing my eyes at my brother. “Or Archer. We can see whoever we want and we want to see each other.”

  “But he’s my best friend,” Dean says, turning from the table.