by Harper Sloan
6
QUINN
"We Should Be Friends" by Miranda Lambert
- -
After my freak-out on the side of the road, I haul ass so fast to Leigh's that I kick up dirt and gravel into the truck bed the whole way down the drive to her house. I'm sure I look like a maniac, but Christ, a girl can only take so much.
Leigh is on the porch watering some of her hanging plants. Or she was, but with my manic arrival, she lets the watering can drop to her side, its contents spilling on the ground as her mouth hangs open in shock, her eyes not leaving my truck as I tear into my usual parking spot so swiftly it feels like the truck might split in two from the momentum.
Half a second later I'm out, slamming the door harder than I ever would and rushing to her. I stop, panting, and sputter, "He's a vagina doctor!" then grab my knees with each hand and lean over to catch my breath, keeping my head tilted so I can see her face.
Her chin tucks toward her chest as her head jerks at my sudden outburst, and she looks at me like I'm just as crazy as I feel.
"Do you hear me, Leighton? One of the only vagina doctors for miles and miles . . . more miles than I care to drive just to get crotch-violated and my boobs grabbed once a year. Do you know what that means?" I screech, nearly apoplectic with full-blown horror. I straighten from my hunch and pace for a beat before looking back at her and throwing my hands in the air. "Seriously, do you get what this means for me?!"
"Uh, that he might not need to lubricate the speculum before your exam?" she jokes with an awkward giggle that sounds just as forced as it looks.
"That is . . ." I pause to think about it. "Well, actually it's probably true. I mean, if he looks anything like he used to it will be, but that's also beside the point. It means I won't be able to avoid him if things get all gross and awkward. Not unless I want to drive close to an hour away to find a new doctor outside of town. Why couldn't he have been a pediatrician? Or maybe work in geriatrics?"
I can tell Leigh wants to laugh. She rolls back on her bare feet, I'm sure to buy herself some time to squelch the laughter that wants to fly free. I watch as she adjusts the straps of her dress, dusts nonexistent dirt from her front, and then meets my eyes, fully composed.
"Well, I was goin' to ask if you wanted some wine, but I think somethin' a little stronger is in order now."
"If you even think about gettin' that moonshine out, I'll kick your ass," I retort, narrowing my eyes.
Leigh turns, the skirt of her dress twirling around her, and opens the screen door to her and Maverick's house. I see Earl, her big-as-hell Maine coon cat, instantly. It's not like you can miss the big fat beast, but you really can't miss him when he's sitting in the middle of the couch, one back leg up in the air while he licks himself. Such a man.
"We've got about two hours before Maverick is done for the day. He's out in the trainin' arena with some of the new cowboys workin' on riding techniques or somethin' like that. All I know is he wasn't wearin' a helmet the last time I went down there, but he made everyone else. Stubborn man knows he can't get another bump on that hard head of his, too. I should warn you, though, he knows you're comin' and wants to see for himself that his sister is okay."
"Is that the warnin' I have to down a few shots and get the hard stuff out of the way before he comes back?"
She giggles. "No. He knows we need some time together. I'm sure he'll be up, especially after that dramatic drive-in, but he's goin' to have dinner with the trainers and the new students tonight. Trey promised me he would keep him busy after that until I let him know it was good to come home."
At the mention of Trey, Maverick's real father's brother, I feel the familiar twinge of emotion I always get when he's around or mentioned. Even though all the shit Maverick found out about our mama while he was gone, especially that Daddy wasn't his biological father, devastated us all, it only served to bring us--Clay, Maverick, me, and even Leigh--closer. We might not have our parents anymore, what with our father having passed away over a year ago and our mama being . . . whatever she is, but Trey arrived and instantly extended his love for his nephew to Clay and me as well.
"Might as well skip the drinks, Leigh. I want a clear head while I get this all out."
She stops on her trek to the kitchen and reverses her steps, following me as I walk into the living room.
I drop down onto her oversize couch and yank off my boots so I can pull my legs under me. Now that I've shed my coveralls back at the shop, my old cutoff shorts aren't offering much warmth in the chilly air-conditioned room.
She starts to talk, but I stop her instantly. "Let me get it out. It's like, every thought I have is pushin' at my mental barriers and if I don't just let them free, I'm going to explode."
"Get it out then, Q. I took a quick twenty-minute power nap, so I'm ready to decipher the ramblin' madness you always spew when you're tryin' to think out loud."
"That was smart," I praise, reaching over to pet Earl now that he's stopped licking his balless self. "So, I should probably admit to you that I kept a lot of the truth from you with how serious things were back then with Tate and me. Don't get mad, I didn't do it because I was hidin' it on purpose."
"What does that mean?" she asks hesitantly.
"The summer Maverick left, Tate's and my friendship got a lot . . . stronger. You were really upset about Mav and, well, I just didn't want to bring it up and make you hurt more, seein' Tate and me together like that. Now before you get mad, I only kept that one summer from you because of everything that happened with Mav. After that, well, it just didn't seem relevant now that summer was over. When he came back the next summer, right after our graduation, I just let you think that was when we finally stopped bein' 'just friends' and hooked up."
"I should probably be mad, but I understand where you were comin' from. That explains why you took his disappearin' so dang hard. I knew you guys had a close friendship for years--he was tighter with you than he was with anyone else in our little group of friends. I thought you had only really been together together that one summer, so I figured you missed Tate as a friend more than, you know, you did as a lover."
"Yeah . . ." I exhale, dropping back to rest against the cushions behind me. "Even just calling him my summer lover doesn't sound strong enough of an explanation for what we had. The night he took my virginity, we stayed up for hours talkin' about how we would make it work even with him in college four states away. We had weeks together that summer with our heads stuck in that stupid beautiful cloud, Leigh. Weeks. When he left, I smiled through my tears because he was so sure that everything would be okay. And I believed him. Then he was just gone. Even if what we shared that summer didn't mean as much to him as it did to me, even if, how did he just give up all those years as friends?"
"You took it hard. I remember. It makes sense now, though. I honestly just thought you were upset about losing the connection you two always had through years of friendship when he came to town. Now though, hell, Q, I'm just as baffled as you are about his abrupt departure."
"I loved him," I admit, my voice full of melancholy. "I loved him so big and bright that the only future I could see was with me at his side. He made me forget the hurt I harbored from my father's verbal lashings. The pain of my mama's abandonment didn't even register anymore. I was whole, Leigh. So full inside that it was tippin' over the edges and floodin' everythin' around me in the most beautiful way. Then all I felt was the bone-chillin' loneliness when, just as quickly as that summer passed, I was hollow again."
I hear the tick of a clock behind me mixing with the loud purrs coming from Earl as the silence stretches around us. Me stuck in my memories and Leigh letting me get my thoughts caught up with my mouth. Silently giving me the strength to get it out.
"I want to hate him," I whisper. "I want to hate him so badly that I shake with it. It hasn't been that long, but maybe the last almost nine years have been hard on him too and he's feelin' some karma over leavin' like he did. He was as close to perfect
as one man could get back then, but he could roll into Pine Oak baldin' with a giant beer gut. Honestly, though, even if that's how it plays out, I think I'll still feel nothin' but need for him. Each day that's passed in the last few weeks since I called him in your office there's been somethin' growin' inside me that gets stronger with each hour that brings his arrival closer. It's almost as if my soul knows he's comin' back. How stupid is that shit?"
I was zoning out as I rambled, just gazing at a random spot on the wall across the room from me. I laugh dryly thinking about how corny my thoughts sound when voiced out loud and roll my head against the cushion to look at Leigh. I expect her to be holding in laughter at the cheesiness. The last thing I anticipated seeing, though, was tears welling up in her eyes.
"What?" I ask, hesitantly testing the waters, not sure if I like the tingly feeling of trepidation I get with the powerful emotions rolling off of her in heavy waves.
"Do you really want to hear it?" Her voice wobbles, but she composes herself with a small cough.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
She shifts, turning her body so that she is facing me fully instead of just sitting next to me and looking over. She reaches out, the light catching the diamonds of her engagement ring, and grabs my hand in a strong hold.
"There is only one time in my life I have ever felt that feelin', Quinn, and that was the day your brother came home. I didn't even realize that's what it was until just now. I had just assumed it was just the heaviness of the day he came back." She's talking about my father's funeral. "I get it now, though. That invisible connection only two people meant to be together have was snappin' back in place and pullin' all that slack out of the rope."
"Jesus Jones," I mumble, knowing there is truth to her words even if I'm not ready to admit it to myself just yet.
"Don't fight it. Quinn, promise me that no matter how much you want to, you'll give it a chance to keep pullin' that slack until you two meet in the middle."
"I'm not sure I can make that promise." And I'm not. Really, I'm not.
"You won't have a choice," the deep, rumbling voice of my brother cuts in.
My eyes widen at the same time Leigh's get soft and dreamy.
"I'm not stickin' my head in girl talk, because I don't have the right equipment between my legs to even begin to understand the fucked-up ways y'all twist shit up in your heads, but I'm gonna pretend I have my waders on and muddle my way into the thick of it, got it?"
Maverick must not expect an answer to his question, because he just stomps into the living room and drops his huge frame into the love seat opposite where I'm sitting. I watch him eye Earl with caution, and if it were any other moment, I would laugh that my big, strong brother is still worried the cat might eat him one day.
"The last thing I like thinkin' about is my baby sister being old enough to find the person she's meant to share her days with, but I'm not a stupid man, so I know this day's gonna come whether I want it to or not. You know I fought my own day, Hell-raiser. I fought it so hard that it cost me somethin' fuckin' beautiful for years, and that's not somethin' I want anyone to experience, especially not you. I remember him--Tate, that is. I didn't understand the way he would look at you back then. I reckon I get it now, what he was feelin', because it's the same thing I see in my mirror every mornin' I wake up with Leigh by my side."
"You're readin' a whole lot into somethin' you have no proof of," I argue. "You were hardly around, Maverick."
"I was around enough, Quinny. All it took was one look at the kid and anyone worth a shit saw it."
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
"You don't have to believe me, darlin'. It really doesn't matter if you do, because in the long run that shit's gonna happen whether you do or not. You'll see that fightin' it is pointless. What's meant to be is gonna be."
"Riddles don't do anything but stir up the mud in the water, Mav," I joke, trying to lighten the heaviness.
"Then get some goggles and learn how to push through the muck."
I roll my eyes with a smile, used to his crazy, confusing logic. It's the kind that makes no sense when he's giving it to you, but slams you in the face with a mighty blow of clarity the second you finally figure it out.
"I know," Leigh exclaims, bouncing excitedly in her seat. Maverick's eyes brighten and crinkle at the edges as he smiles at her. "What you need is a night out, Q! We can make it a family night. Get out and clear your head, then the rest will just fall into place."
"How is that going to help me figure out what to do when Tate comes back to Pine Oak?"
She tilts her head, studying me for a beat before looking over at my brother. My gaze volleys between them as they have some weird-as-hell conversation with their eyes. It almost makes me feel icky to watch.
"Oh, it won't. I just thought it would be fun for us to have family night," she finally says after breaking her gaze away from Maverick's. "It would be nice. We could go to the Dam Bar or somethin'. We haven't been there in a while, and besides, we already know how this is goin' to end between you and Tate."
My brow furrows. "Oh really?" I drone sarcastically.
"Yup."
"You sound mighty sure of yourself." I laugh in disbelief.
Short-lived disbelief, though, because when she opens her mouth next she puts her money where her words are.
"Quinn, babe, you gave him Bertha's engine," she whispers. "You gave him the heart of a vehicle you've been painstakingly breathing life back into for longer than any of your other projects. You think I don't know anythin' about what you do with those trucks, but I pay attention and I know you wouldn't have given Bertha's heart to anyone you wouldn't trust your own with."
When she finishes talking there is nothing but silence around us. I see Maverick stand, and I'm vaguely aware of him walking around the coffee table and bending to give Leigh a kiss. Unable to look away from my best friend, I see him out of the corners of my shocked eyes as he gets closer to me before giving me a kiss on the top of my head. His boots echo around the room behind him as he makes his way out the back door of their house, presumably headed back to the mess hall for dinner with everyone like Leigh had said.
Leigh doesn't pay him any mind, her focus completely and wholly on me, nothing but understanding and support in her eyes. Jesus, I didn't give her enough credit if she picked all that up.
"If I take a chance--given that there's even one to take--and let him close to that part of me again, somethin' I haven't let any man near since the last time I gave that to Tate, it could end in disaster, Leigh."
"Or . . . it could end in pure magic."
"It could be my destruction," I debate.
"Or it could be your salvation."
My salvation.
I guess that would lead to the question of what exactly I would be being saved from: the life I'm content-ish to live as alone as possible, or the fear I try my hardest not to let rule my world. I don't want to give it that kind of power, but it always finds a way to sneak back in.
"You, my best friend, are the strongest woman I know. Maybe its time you stop hidin' behind the wall you've built up around your heart and show Tate Montgomery what a hell-raisin' badass you've become since he saw you last."
I snort, the sound unattractive and loud, right before I choke on the tickle it vibrates up my dry throat. With watering eyes, I laugh through the coughs as I clear my throat. "I'm startin' to think you guys just call me that because you know it's nowhere near the damn truth."
Leigh gets a serious look on her beautiful face and I know I'm in trouble. "I guess you really do need a night out, then, because the Quinn Davis I know never hits the bar without raisin' a little hell. You earned that nickname fair and square, honey."
I scoff under my breath, making a big act out of being put out. "That was one time!" I yell with a smile.
"Try every time," she mocks. "This weekend. The Dam Bar. It's happenin'. We can even get all dressed up in all that crap you bought
for the girls night we had last summer. Do you still have that purple wig?"
A burst of excitement scatters through my body at the thought. "Do I have it?" I puff in disbelief. "I would never get rid of Lenore."
"It's really weird that you give names to so many things, Quinn."
I shrug, not even giving a single damn about the strange quirks that make me . . . me. Now that I'm letting the idea of a night out take root, I really think she's on to something. I can't even remember when the last time we all went out was, and with the long hours I've been spending at the shop working on Homer, I haven't even seen Clay much, and we live in the same, albeit huge, home. The past few weeks we've just been two tired souls crossing paths after long days at work. Maybe she's right and a night with my family--beers flowin', and dancin' with Leigh until my legs fall off--is just what I need to remind myself exactly how far I've come.
I'm not that scared little girl desperate for love anymore. I'm not ruled by the past. Not any part of it. Especially not the chunk that houses the memory of the one man that spent every summer for years making me believe that I could trust what my heart tells me. All it took was one stupid phone call to make me remember, and even without knowing what his return means for what we had years ago, I've let him awaken those fears again.
I'll show him. Tate Montgomery isn't going to know what hit him.
"Friday night, Leigh. Make sure that overprotective beast you live with knows that while we're at the Dam Bar, you're mine, and when Lenore and Loretta hit the town, no man will stand in our way."
"There's my little hell-raisin' badass!" She jumps from the couch and pulls me to my feet, wrapping me in her slim arms.
We spend an embarrassing amount of time squealing like girls. By the time I leave to head home to the Davis ranch, we've already picked out an outfit from among her "slut clothes"--the very few pieces that I forced her to buy over the years--that will coordinate with the clothes I'm already mentally pulling from my closet back home. It's been a long time since we let the girls out to play. I know it was well before Maverick came home. That thought alone is enough to amp up my excitement. I can't wait to see how he acts when he gets a good look at Leighton in all her Loretta glory.