I grunted, and she rolled her eyes.
“Leo, please. Can’t you be even a little bit happy for me? You’ve got everything you ever wanted—your career, a beautiful home and a life. I don’t have anything right now, and all I want is a chance to see if I can find it.”
“I don’t have everything I ever wanted.” It was as close as I could come to admitting the truth, to pouring out my heart to her. But despite the fact that I didn’t want to accept it, part of me realized Quinn was right. This was exactly what Nate had been trying to tell me: she had to find a little of herself before she could belong to me. Or before we could belong to each other. I just had to hope and pray that herself was all she found on the West Coast. The idea of her meeting another guy made me physically ill.
“Leo.” She laid her fingers on my arm, and I could feel the heat of her through my thin sweater. “Last month, I made a big mistake, going down to Richmond and basically begging you to take me back. It was . . . humiliating and hurtful. I don’t want to do that to you or to me again. But if I stay here and keep going through the motions that I am now, it’s going to happen again. I’ll get desperate, and you’ll be my only lifeboat. I can’t let that go on. It’s not good for either of us.”
I wanted to fall down onto my knees and admit how much it had fucking killed me to turn her away last month. How sick I’d been when she’d left, and how I’d gotten drunk off my ass to wipe away the memory of her tear-stained face. But it wasn’t the time, not yet. If I told her, she’d think I was just trying to persuade her not to go to California. And maybe I was.
“So . . . a year? That’s how long you’re going to be there?” I knew how fast a year could go by. Time could pass in the blink of an eye. But right now, it felt like a fucking eternity.
Quinn hesitated. “I don’t know for sure. I don’t think it’s going to take that long to write the book. Allan already has it outlined, and he knows what he wants to do. But I have the year if I need it, or if I want it.”
“Okay.” That was a tiny sliver of hope at the end of a dark tunnel. Less than a year, then. I could handle that. Couldn’t I? I could be her friend for that long. Shit, all that distance might actually make it possible for us to be friends, when the crazy attraction between us wasn’t such an issue. “But you’ll stay in touch, right? We can text and call?”
“Of course.” She wrapped her arms around herself in that classic Quinn move, hugging her middle. “I’m not going to know a soul out there. I might drive you crazy with all my texts. You might have to block me, or report me as a stalker.”
I managed a crooked smile. “Nah, I’d just have my people file a restraining order. You know, making sure you have to stay at least fifty feet away from me at all times.”
“That wouldn’t really be a problem, since I’m going to be, like, three thousand miles away from you.” Her teeth sank down into her full bottom lip. “I’ve never been that far from you before.”
“Sure you were. Last year, we played at least three games on the West Coast. And I’m pretty certain you were here in New Jersey all that time.”
She sniffled a little. “True, but that was you going away from me. This is me, being away from you and my mom and everyone I know. I’m excited, but I’m also scared shitless.”
I laughed softly. “That’s how these things work. When I first went down to Carolina, remember how scared I was? And same when I went to Richmond the first time. If you’re not terrified at least some of your life, you’re probably not living.”
“I feel like for the last five years, I’ve been just holding on between horrible things.” Quinn dropped her head back so that it bumped gently into the wall. “First my dad dying, and then everything with . . . you and me, and then Matt and Nate. I realized the other day that I wake up every morning dreading what’s going to hit me today. I don’t want to be like that. I want to open my eyes, excited about the next adventure, not the next tragedy. I think I’ve had my fill. I want to embrace some happy for a little while.”
“I get that.” I leaned back, too, watching her. “The selfish part of me doesn’t want you to go clear across the country, but the better half of my heart understands. Maybe this time, I’ll actually pay attention to that better half. Hey, do you think that qualifies as growth? Am I becoming a deeper person?”
Quinn giggled, and my heart cracked open. Making her laugh, seeing her smile . . . that was what I needed. And dammit, if it took a few months in California to bring back that happier Quinn, I could last that long.
“Maybe you are, Leo. But do me a favor, okay? Don’t change too much. Stay who you are. I’m not sure I can handle more adjustments.”
“I think I can make that promise.” I held open my arms. “So . . . one hug for the road? I’m guessing I won’t see you again before you leave. I head back to Richmond on the first flight tomorrow morning.”
“Then . . . yes. This is good-bye.” She only hesitated a moment before stepping into my arms.
I wrapped her in a tight hug, letting myself relax and enjoy the rare luxury of her body pressed into mine, her face buried in my chest and her arms twined around my neck. Breathing in her intoxicating Quinn scent, I risked brushing my lips over the top of her head.
“Not good-bye. Just . . . talk to you later. Right?”
She nodded, her hair tickling against my chin. I could feel her battling for control, even as a quick sob wracked her.
I dipped my mouth to her ear. “You got this, babe. You can do it. Go out there and make that city your bitch.” I closed my eyes against the threat of tears as I whispered once more.
“Love you, Mia Quinn. Never forget it.”
Unpack Your Heart by Phillip Phillips
Quinn: Hey—just wanted to let you know I arrived safely in California. The apartment is beautiful. Allan and his wife are really nice. Hope all is good with you.
I stared at the text for a solid minute, hating every word. It sounded stilted and formal, the kind of thing I might send a work acquaintance or an aunt I hadn’t spoken with in a long time instead of the person who was closer to me than anyone else in the world.
Or who used to be, and maybe that was the problem.
Finally, I hit send and tossed the telephone down on the couch, sighing. When it came to Leo, everything felt uncertain and murky. I couldn’t quite find my footing. I’d been proud of how well I’d handled our meeting at his brother’s engagement party; I knew I’d taken him by surprise with my announcement. He’d seemed almost unhappy that I was moving across the country. I’d expected him to be relieved that I was leaving, after my disastrous visit to Virginia.
Still, I’d managed to stay both aloof and calm without seeming angry or hurt. I hoped that image was the one that would stick with Leo instead of the one where I was a crying, blubbering mess, begging for his love. That one wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t like me. I’d always thought of myself as strong and independent, not needing to lean on anyone, but the last months had proven to me just how wrong I’d been.
After Leo had dropped me at the train station in Richmond that morning, I’d sat in the waiting room, numb and staring, until we were invited to board. Once on the train, I’d managed to nod off now and then, but mostly, I tried not to cry. I was ashamed of what I’d done, embarrassed by how I’d acted with Leo and hurt by how he’d treated me. I’d had a huge pity party for one until Zelda had picked me up at the station in Philadelphia.
When I’d opened the car and climbed in, I’d shot her a dark look. “Not a word. Please. If you love me as your friend, no I-told-you-so’s or anything.”
“I wouldn’t ever, doll.” She’d begun to drive. “But I will ask the hard question. What now?”
I’d sighed, sinking further into the seat. “I have no fucking clue. I guess I’ll go home, hang out there until my mom sells the house out from under me, and then . . . I’ll find somewhere to live. I need to call Dawn and start working again, too, so that I have enough money to pay rent.”
“With Shane the dry cleaner?” I heard the bitter in my voice, and I hated it.
“Yep. With Shane or Tom or Charlie or whoever the hell else she wants. She deserves to enjoy the rest of her life.”
I’d sat in silence the rest of the way back over the bridge to New Jersey, not speaking until we were near Eatonboro.
“Dawn left me a message yesterday. I listened to it on the train. She has an idea about what I could do next—workwise, anyway. But it means moving to California, at least for a while.”
“California, huh?” She didn’t speak for a minute. “I don’t know any details, doll, but I think you should do it. Or at least give it serious thought.”
And I had. I’d listened to Dawn’s suggestion, and I’d talked to my mom, to Zelda and to Gia. By the following week, I’d made the decision and begun the slow process of pulling myself back to life.
Now I’d been here in northern California for all of three days, and I was miserable. Oh, I hadn’t lied to Leo about the apartment; it was beautiful, with the most expensive-looking furniture I’d ever seen, art adorning the walls and gleaming wood everywhere. The location was perfect, too, just a short walk from the Presidio Forest and with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
But it wasn’t home. I missed my mother, my house and my neighborhood. I missed knowing that when I drove down the street, I’d likely see familiar faces. I missed our grocery stores, my old high school . . . I missed Zelda and Gia being a short drive away. And I really, really missed Leo, which was absolutely crazy, considering we hadn’t lived within six hours of each other for years. Not since that summer when we’d had our brief and wonderful few months of living together had we even seen one another with any kind of regularity. But still, I felt his loss keenly.
I missed Nate, too. It was horrible to think it, let alone say it out loud, but I missed him more than I had thought I would. There’d been a part of me that had expected more relief than grief, but the truth was, even above and beyond our lifelong friendship, I missed the relationship we’d built over the six months of our marriage. It had been sweet and poignant, and it had died when Nate had. There were still mornings when I opened my eyes, and my first thought was to turn my head to look at his profile, to check on his sleeping form in the hospital bed.
My phone chimed, and at the noise, my heart stuttered a little. Probably Mom, I scolded myself. I’d texted her earlier this morning, and she might be replying. I forced myself not to reach for the phone for a solid two minutes, breathing in and out, staring at the finial on the end of the curtain rod.
When I gave in and retrieved it, Leo’s name was on the screen.
Leo: I was just thinking about you. My mom told me you’d left, so I was waiting to hear about your safe arrival. Glad everything looks good so far.
It was measured and banal, just as mine to him had been. Impersonal. And maybe that was a sign of what we were going to be from now on: distant former friends, the kind of people who met up at parties or holidays, hugged each other and exclaimed over how long it had been, promised to be better about keeping in touch and then didn’t think about the other person until the next time we met by accident.
Even as that depressing thought drifted over my mind, a second message came through.
Leo: Please send me pictures. I want to be able to imagine where you are. And text me whenever and lots. Like, obnoxious amounts. You could call, too, if you wanted.
Warmth spread through me, easing a little of the homesick blues. Leo wasn’t brushing me off. We weren’t going to turn into polite strangers.
But still, I wasn’t ready to risk a phone call yet. If I heard his voice, I just might give up and go running home. And as much as I was struggling right now, deep down I still knew that what I was doing was necessary.
Quinn: I’ll send you some pictures, I promise. Not sure I should try a phone call yet . . . but maybe when I feel a little steadier here.
Leo: You got this. You’re the bravest person I know. I miss you, Mia, but I know this is right for you.
Quinn: That makes one of us. Anyway, thanks. Everything okay with you?
Leo: Yeah, fine. Spring conditioning starts in six weeks, so I’ve been mostly volunteering at the youth program and lifting with some of the guys. We had two inches of snow here the other day. The city came to a grinding halt. They don’t know what to do with the white stuff.
Quinn: LOL I can just see it. It’s cold here, but a weird kind of cold. Damp all the time, like being in a tunnel or something underground. And down by the water, it’s frigid. No snow, though. Allan and Kara (his wife) go skiing in Tahoe, but not sure if I’ll get a chance to check that out.
Leo: You should try it. This is a great time for you to do stuff you never have before.
Quinn: I guess. Allan and I are starting to work on the book tomorrow. I’m glad, because I don’t know what to do with myself right now. I feel like I just transported my sorry self, with all the crap I can’t shake, to a different coast. Mostly I’ve been holed up here watching old movies and reading. I’ve made myself take at least one walk a day, though.
Leo: Go explore your new neighborhood. Take pictures to send me, if that will force you out.
Quinn: Are you going to reciprocate? Send me some photos of Richmond in the snow?
Leo: Of course. I’m never shy about selfies. Hold on.
A few moments later, Leo was there, grinning at me out of the phone. Behind him, I could see patches of snow on a deck.
Seeing his face made me want to cry. He looked so familiar and just so . . . Leo. His hair was a little longer than usual; I’d noticed that at the engagement party, but I hadn’t risked commenting on it. It was too personal and might have led to touching.
His blue-grey eyes were bright. They seemed to be looking right at me, making me want to see them go smoky with desire, as they always did when we were together.
I wanted to tell him all of that, because we never held back anything from each other. But that too was risky, and so I stuck to something safer.
Quinn: The city shut down over THAT little snow? And is that your backyard? It’s huge.
Leo: Yeah, that’s what all the girls say, you know. Everyone loves the size of my . . . deck.
The smile that spread over my face was one of those I couldn’t fight. It made me feel lighter and a little giddy, that Leo was making suggestive jokes to me. I wasn’t sure what it meant—that he felt safe to tease, since I was over three thousand miles away?—but I decided not to overthink anything.
Quinn: I walked right into that one, didn’t I?
Leo: You sure did. Now I showed you mine . . . show me yours.
I wasn’t going to send him a selfie, not when I was sitting here in yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, with my hair a mess and not one bit of makeup on my face. He’d seen me worse, for sure, but I didn’t need to capture this image for posterity. I stood up and made my way around the sofa across to the dining room with its massive picture window, and holding my phone at just the right angle, so that there wasn’t any glare from the glass, I snapped a photo of the view, with the top of the Golden Gate showing. I edited it a bit, framing it and adding a filter, and then added it to my text and hit send.
Leo: That is a freaking amazing view. You weren’t lying. But it was missing one thing. One very important thing. YOU.
I was smiling big again as I typed.
Quinn: Sorry. Remember, we’re three hours behind you. I’m still in my pj’s and I look like a train wreck. I’ll send one when I feel like I won’t scare you to death.
Leo: Baby, I’ve seen
you at your worst, and I’ve seen you at your best. You know it doesn’t make any difference to me how you look. But as long as you promise to send one soon—maybe one of you on a cable car—I guess I’ll learn patience.
I was considering my response when another text came through.
Leo: Just got in the car, on my way to the volunteer center. Can’t be late for the kids. Text me later, okay? Miss you.
Biting my lip, I sighed. It was hard to think about Leo’s life going on there without me. Even if I’d had the illusion of his attention for a few minutes, I wondered how often I really crossed his mind.
Quinn: Have fun and be safe driving in ALL THAT SNOW. ;) Miss you, too. Talk later.
“He’s gonna go for the pass here. Trust me, I know this.”
Tate Durham ran one hand through his short hair, damp with sweat. “I don’t know, man. Why wouldn’t he just run with it? Makes more sense.” He was hunched over, his head near mine in the huddle. “And why should I trust you? You don’t play defense.”
“Neither do you, doofus. But I know because he’s my brother, and he thinks he can exploit our weakness, which is defending the pass play.”
“Doofus? What are we, nine?” Tate jabbed me in the arm.
I grimaced. “Sorry. Hanging out with Danny tends to bring out my inner little brother. Would you be more comfortable with me calling you asshole?”
“Nah. I kind of like the doofus bit. You know me and my retro slang.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“Hey, are you two finished making out over there? Can we get back to playing this game, or do you need to cuddle for a few more minutes?” Danny stood a couple of yards away, hands on his hips.
“Shut up.” I straightened. “We were figuring out what we were going to order for dinner tonight when you pussies buy us our meals. You know . . . after you lose.”
“Yeah, keep talking big, little brother. Let’s do this.”
The Keeping Score Box Set Page 67
