Trey sat apart from our main group, quietly talking to our grandmother and Granddad Quinn as the sun went down. He’d managed to avoid me all day, but my entire body felt his presence. I ached to run to him, to wrap my arms around him and tell him, “Yes! I will love you and live with you anywhere, openly and proudly. Just look at me. Talk to me. Touch me!”
But I held back, fearing his rejection. Fearing I’d hurt him too much with my doubts and hesitation. So I watched him silently, absorbing the distant sound of his voice as the rising moon brushed his dark hair with a silvery glow.
“Hey!” Quinn’s hand sliced across my vision, startling me. “Quit daydreaming, Elise. I asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry. What?”
“I asked if you’ll take a ride with me.”
“Why? Where?”
“Why? Because I need something stronger than fruit punch, which is all I can find in this teetotaling place. Where? Any place that sells liquor. Trey turned me down—no surprise there. Come with me. You need to get out of this funk you’re in.”
“I’m not in a funk.”
“Sure you are. But a few drinks will fix that. Come on.”
“How will I get home?”
“I’ll take you home,” he said, practically lifting me out of my chair. “Any other pointless excuses?”
Arguing with Quinn was futile. “All right. Just let me get my purse and say goodnight to everyone.”
As I did so, I walked over to where Trey sat alone in the darkness. I stood before him, almost close enough to touch, just waiting for a crack to open up in the wall between us. But a few polite words were all that came through.
“Elise,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “Good luck with your interview tomorrow.”
I started to turn away, but I couldn’t leave him like this. Not like this. I moved closer, unable to see his face clearly, but I heard his sharp intake of breath when he felt my nearness.
“Trey?”
“What?”
“I will always love you,” I whispered. Then I walked away from him to where Quinn stood waiting.
Chapter 21
Q uinn traveled in style, of course. We settled into a dark blue Lamborghini Heracan Spyder that was specially ordered and waiting for his arrival at the Boise Airport that morning. He’d flown in by private jet, commercial flights being “too much hassle.”
Granddad Quinn had four luxury cars in his garage in Lake Oswego, but they were old classics that couldn’t compare to this. Nothing could compare to this. We hit the freeway and literally flew past Ontario, heading east into Idaho at speeds I’d never experienced before.
“Quinn! Slow down!”
He eased off slightly, passing car after car in a steady blur. I gripped the sides of my black leather seat and held on.
“Scared?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Relax, cousin. You’re too uptight.”
“Where are we going?”
“I usually go to the End Zone. It’s a college dive bar by Bronco Stadium. Fun place, but I’ll be mobbed there. There’s a place on South Cloverdale with great beer and nachos. Should be pretty quiet.”
We were there in what seemed like minutes, and the place was pretty quiet according to Quinn’s definition; he only had to sign ten autographs.
“Do you ever get tired of that?” I asked as we settled into a rear booth.
“Autographs? Nah. Comes with the job. Just part of the package.”
“Like Lamborghinis, private jets and beautiful women?”
“Yup.” Quinn curled his fist around a foaming mug, draining half of it in one long swallow. “God, but that tastes good. One more glass of fruit punch would’ve finished me off, I swear. I hate Johnny’s no-liquor rule.”
“He has his reasons.”
“Sure. I know the story. But he shouldn’t impose his penance on the rest of us. Drink up. Relax. Loosen up a bit so we can talk.”
I sipped my beer, watching him dig into a heaping basket of cheese-covered nachos. Lord, but he was something. In his physical prime at twenty-six, Quinn was the NFL’s shining star, riding high on his fame and fortune and natural exuberance, cruising far above the mundane lives of most mortals.
And he was beautiful—like all the Larson males—with his curling dark hair and sapphire blue eyes and a mouth that triggered lustful thoughts in women. Quinn exuded sexuality; no wonder he couldn’t keep their names straight!
With the nachos mostly gone and his second beer down to the dregs, Quinn sat back and looked at me. “All right,” he said. “Out with it. What’s going on between you and Trey?”
“What do you mean?”
He snorted. “I don’t have Trey’s brilliant mind, but I’m not dumb. Anyone with two eyes can see the tension between you two. You were great pals growing up and seemed even closer when you lived together at the university. Hell, he jumped all over me at your graduation party when I made some remark about the two of you.”
Pausing to signal for another beer, Quinn went on. “Now you’re avoiding each other: Trey grumpier than a bear with a stick up its ass, and you jumping like a scalded cat when I told him to hug you. Yet you can’t take your eyes off him. So what gives? Spill.”
Can I trust him? I wondered. Or will he get drunk at some party and reveal my secret to the whole Vikings team?
Apparently Trey wasn’t the only man who could read my thoughts. Quinn leaned forward, sliding his hand across the table until our fingers touched. “You can trust me, Elise.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Trey and I are in love.”
He didn’t pull away as the words sunk in. “Love? As in man and woman love?”
“Yes.”
“As in physical, between the sheets love?”
“Yes. But not always between the sheets.”
He grinned. “Holy crap. My little brother and our sweet cousin gettin’ it on. Jesus! I can just picture Johnny’s face if he ever finds out.”
“He knows. Johnny knows.”
Quinn’s fingers left mine and he sat upright. “My father knows, and Trey is still in possession of all his body parts? You sure?”
“I’m sure Johnny knows, and I’m sure Trey has all his parts.”
Quinn laughed. “Yeah. You’d notice if somethin’ went missing, right? What about Jim? Does he know?”
“Yes. Johnny and Jim. No one else except you.”
“I bet they raised holy hell. When did they find out?”
“In February, when Trey told them we planned to marry.”
Quinn stared at me. “Marry? You and my brother?”
“Yes.”
He laughed again, shaking his head. “This just gets better and better. God, I wish I’d been there! I bet Johnny went apeshit. His strict family rules have never stopped me, but to think you and Trey . . . Christ! I love it! So what did he say?”
I ran my fingers through the wet circles on the wooden table. I must stop here, I thought. I can’t go any further with this. I can’t tell Quinn that I’m his half-sister.
“Johnny forbids it,” I replied. “He won’t allow us to marry.”
“So that’s the way it is? You’re knuckling under to Johnny? You split up with Trey because of Johnny?”
I nodded. Not because of Johnny’s rules, I thought, but because of what he did. Because he made me Trey’s sister.
Quinn drained the last of his beer. “Well, to hell with Johnny. Get married, if that’s what you want. Cousins can marry in some states, right? So just do it. Our family won’t care, and Johnny will come around. I’ll have a talk with him.”
I grabbed his hand. “No. You mustn’t talk to Johnny. He mustn’t know I’ve told you. Please.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal, unless there’s something you’re not telling me. More secrets, Elise?”
“Promise you won’t talk to Johnny. You’ll just make t
hings worse.”
Quinn sighed. “If Trey had a backbone, he wouldn’t give a damn what Johnny says. He’d tell our father to screw himself, which is all he ever does anyway.”
“Stop it, Quinn. Don’t make me sorry I told you.”
“All right. I’ll keep your secret, little cousin. But don’t expect me to like it. Come on. Let’s get stinking drunk.”
He did exactly that. The bar soon filled with local fans when the word spread: Quinn Larson was in town and ready to party! I watched in amazement as an excited crowd swarmed around him, laughing and drinking and dancing. The music grew louder and the girls got bolder as everyone started taking shots and things got really wild. This was Quinn in his element, the center of attention in a frenzied crush of admirers. He’d clearly forgotten about me.
I wanted to leave but didn’t know how to get home. Quinn was in no condition to drive, and I wasn’t about to touch the Lamborghini, so I called my father.
Daddy was not pleased when he drove up at midnight, just as the bar was closing. He practically pulled me out the door, scarcely glancing at Quinn, who was braced against the bar with his arm around a curvy brunette.
“Get in the car, Elise,” my father ordered.
“What about Quinn? He’s drunk. We can’t just leave him with the Lamborghini—he’ll try to drive. You take it. I’ll bring Quinn in your car.”
“For God’s sake! Quinn is a big boy who can take care of himself. Get in the car.”
“No. Not without Quinn.” I went back inside, walked up to Quinn and held out my hand. “Give me your key fob,” I ordered.
He looked at me, puzzled. “My what?”
“The key fob. For the Lamborghini.”
He grinned. “You tryin’ to steal my car?”
“No. My father is driving it home. I’m taking you.”
“Where you takin’ me, ‘zactly?”
“Home. To bed.”
“Hear that?” he yelled. “My lil’ cousin is takin’ me to bed! Sorry, sweetheart,” he said to the brunette. “Got to go.”
We made it home, with my father close behind in the Lamborghini. Quinn was snoring loudly as I pulled into the garage. Now what? I thought. He’s too big to move, and I can’t leave him here all night.
My father came to the rescue. Between the two of us, we managed to rouse Quinn enough to get him out of the car and through the door to the downstairs bedroom, where he fell backwards across the bed with his legs hanging over the side and his feet on the floor. He was sound asleep.
He looked so helpless lying there in total oblivion, with his mouth open and his big arms stretched wide. The great football hero, I thought. Can’t even take his shoes off.
“Leave him,” Daddy said. “Go to bed. We’ve got work in the morning.”
I removed Quinn’s shoes and left him, thinking my cousin-brothers were nothing but trouble at times.
Six hours later, I checked on Quinn before I left for work. He was still sleeping in his clothes, but at least he’d gotten his legs and feet onto the bed. I covered him with a blanket and closed the door.
Quinn and the Lamborghini were gone when Daddy and I came home that night, but I found a note on my bed. “Sorry about last night, but thanks for bringing me home. Listen—don’t let Johnny ruin your life. Follow your heart and be happy. Call me if you need anything. Love ya, kid. Quinn.”
As expected, Trey aced the oral defense of his dissertation in May. One week later he received an offer to become an Assistant Professor of English at Boise State—the university’s youngest professor. Our family made plans for a big celebration party following his graduation ceremony on June 19th in Eugene, including dinner reservations at the elegant and pricey King Estate Restaurant and Winery, courtesy of Granddad Quinn.
“I’m not going,” I told my father two weeks before the event.
“Of course you are,” he stated. “Peter will manage the office while we’re gone. He’s . . .”
“Capable. Yes. I’m not worried about the office.”
“What, then?”
I stared at him across the dinner table. “You’re not stupid, Daddy. Surely you can figure it out. I haven’t heard from Trey for almost four months. Not one word! You made me go to his birthday party and he ignored me the entire time. It hurts—can’t you see that? I think of him every day and night, but I can’t bear the thought of seeing him because he’ll treat me like a stranger when all I want to do is touch him and tell him how much I love him. My love for Trey is tearing me apart! Can’t you at least try to understand?”
“I thought . . .”
“What? What did you think?”
“I thought you were starting to get over it.”
“Really? Get over it, like a cold or a case of the flu, maybe? I don’t believe this! You of all people should know how it feels to love someone this much. You never got over Elise, did you?”
“No.”
“Did it hurt? Your love for her?”
“Yes. It hurt. But I made a life with your mother. A good life. You can do the same. Open your heart to new possibilities.”
“My heart is broken, Daddy. It can’t open. And I’m not going to Trey’s graduation. End of discussion.”
Chapter 22
A fter his graduation, Trey moved temporarily into Grandma and Johnny’s house while he searched for an apartment in Boise. He would start teaching at the beginning of fall semester in August, the same week I’d enroll in law school. My knowledge of Trey’s activities came through my father; our personal wall of silence remained unbroken.
The employees of Larson & Associates surprised me with a combination farewell and twenty-third birthday party on August 14th, my last day of work. And yes, I was totally surprised!
Daddy kept me at work after everyone else left that day, wanting to go over some “final matters” with me (just an excuse, but I didn’t suspect a thing). Then he offered to take me out to dinner at Cottonwood Grille, one of my favorite restaurants. Despite the presence of some familiar cars in the parking lot, I remained clueless until Daddy escorted me past the main dining room to The Alcove, an intimate private dining room.
All of my co-workers greeted me with hugs, cheers, a table full of gifts and a large banqueting table spread with—of course—a banquet! We dined on steak, seafood, chicken, pasta and salads, accompanied by fine wine and followed by an exquisite three-tiered “pink champagne” birthday cake from Boise Cakery.
I was deeply touched by the thoughtfulness of these people, many of whom I’d known since I was a little girl. They’d become like a second family to me during the past year, grieving with me over my mother’s death and helping Daddy and me get through it. I treasured this special evening of food, laughter and a few tears as they wished me success in law school, assuring me (jokingly) that if I flunked out, I could always come back to the office.
Peter drew me aside when the party ended, asking me to stay a while longer. “We can go out to the patio where it’s quiet. Have a drink and talk. I’ll drive you home later.”
Why not? I thought. Why not spend the rest of my birthday with this charming, thoughtful and very attractive man? So I agreed. Daddy gathered my gifts and left us with a smile.
The day had been very hot. August was always hot in Boise, but the sun was down and a cool breeze reached the patio from the Boise River a short distance away. We could hear the quiet lapping of the water as moonlight flickered across its surface.
“I’m impressed,” I said when a waiter brought two glasses of Idaho Huckleberry to our table. “You remembered this is my favorite cocktail.”
“Of course. I remember everything about our time together. We had a lot of fun on those Saturdays last fall. I thought we were becoming more than just friends, especially at Christmas when we kissed under the mistletoe. But then it all changed, and you never said why. Did I do something wrong?”
“No. You did nothing wrong.” I hesitated, unsure what to say. He deserved an answer, but I couldn�
��t go into details. “The truth is that I fell in love with someone else. Someone I’ve known for a long time.”
“I see. So it’s serious, then?”
“It was, but things got complicated.”
“Are you still seeing him?”
“No. I haven’t seen or heard from him in months.”
“Do you still love him? No . . . never mind. I don’t want to know. But thank you for telling me. I was afraid it was something I’d done. I’d like to be your friend, Elise. Nothing more, if that’s how you want it. I’ll miss working with you, but maybe we could hang out at the swim club some Saturday?”
I licked the sugared rim of my glass while he waited for my answer. Temptation hit me hard. Trey had shut me out of his life completely, at least until I acquiesced to his demand to love him proudly and openly. I still loved him with all my heart, but I was a woman who needed emotional and physical contact with a man, and I’d been denied both for six long months. Didn’t I deserve a little pleasure in my life?
Music drifted to us from the dining room, and I caught the strains of an old classic: Unchained Melody. “Oh, my love, my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch . . .”
I reached across the table and touched Peter’s hand. “Dance with me,” I said. “Let’s dance.”
So we did. We danced in the moonlight with the river beside us and no one else around. When the music stopped, we walked hand in hand to the river’s edge, where we kissed with no need for mistletoe. Then he took me home.
Trey rented an apartment close to Boise State with easy access to the Greenbelt’s running path and right next to Quinn’s Pond (not named for our Quinn), which meant he was only two and a half miles from my home in the foothills (yes, I checked). I drove past his complex a couple of times, feeling a bit like a stalker, but that’s as far as I got. Knowing he was so close, I felt a mixture of comfort and pain.
Forbidden- Our Secret Love Page 13