Ride: Hearts Wild Series

by Allison Gatta

  Something buzzed on the table across the room, and Zoe made for it before realizing that the flashing screen belonged to Ian's phone and not her own. Stopping short, she started to enter the bathroom but then doubled back.

  She'd seen her name.

  On the screen in bold, black letters.

  Glancing into the bathroom, she clicked the master control on the phone and it blinked on again.

  The text was marked "unknown" and it simply said, "Did you tell Zoe yet?"

  Zoe held it, blinking down at the screen. Tell her what? Was he keeping something from her already? And if he was…

  But she didn't have to worry about that for long. The phone buzzed as she held it, and "unknown" said, "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help. I just don't want her to worry."

  Her heart thunked into her stomach.

  Ian had been lying to her, leading her on. This whole time, maybe.

  He knew where Quinn was, had seen how concerned she was, and he hadn't told her? Had just let her worried mind swim with possibilities?

  Ian stepped into the room in nothing but his towel, but for once, she didn't salivate over his ripped muscles. She just held the phone in her hand, silently, then stretched it out toward him.

  It buzzed again in her hand, but she didn't dare to look at it.

  She could only stand here. And wait.

  "What's…" he said, but the look on her face told him everything he needed to know.

  "You have two missed messages," she said simply. "Might want to check them."

  "Why were you looking at my phone?" He regretted the question as soon as he spoke. Her face twisted with pain as she pulled on a satin robe and hid herself from his view.

  "It was an accident," she murmured. "And I hardly think I'm the one who should be doing the explaining here."

  "What's that supposed to—?"

  "How long have you known? How long did you know where she was?"

  He sucked in his cheeks. He should have known this was coming, that everything between them had been too good to be true. Vaguely, he knew he still had the option to lie his way out, but he'd done so much of that, he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. Not again.

  "Since yesterday. That's all."

  "Yesterday?" Recognition flashed in her eyes. "When yesterday?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "It does. Now when was it?"

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. "She called me when my phone was gone, so I heard a message. That was what I'd come upstairs to tell you when…"

  "Ah." She let out a bitter little laugh. "You slept with me then continued to lie to me. Twice."

  She nodded slowly. "I understand now."

  "No. Look, it wasn't like that." He held up his hands.

  "I honestly don't know what else it could be. You’ve known for almost 24 hours where my sister was and whether she was safe, and you didn't tell me. You betrayed me, and you did it while you were sleeping with me."

  When she said it like that…

  "Look, I was trying to protect my friend."

  "From me?" Her voice broke on the last word.

  "Look, Zoe. You know how you are."

  "Apparently not."

  "With Quinn. You know you get overprotective, and I just wanted Quinn to have a little peace before you came rushing in."

  "Well, that wasn't your place. You're not family. I'm her family, and someone needs to look out for her."

  "That's exactly what I was doing."

  "And look how great it's turned out," she practically spat.

  "I know you're upset—"

  "You don't know anything." She grabbed his keys from a nearby table then shoved them in her pocket. "But you know what? That's fine by me. I'm going to find my sister and bring her back here. We'll pick you up tomorrow."

  "You don't even know where you're going," Ian said.

  Zoe spun on her heel. "Tell me, then."

  "I don't know exactly. She said she was staying with your aunt, but I thought…" He stopped short. Zoe looked like someone had just slapped her across the face.

  "My aunt?" she repeated, and he nodded.

  "Great. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't call." She stormed out the door, and he didn't bother trying to stop her.

  After all, that was how he'd gotten himself into this mess to begin with.

  “Welcome to Buxton.”

  She read the sign almost three times, cringing more and more with every passing word.

  This was, after all, not where she was supposed to be right now. It was the last place on earth she wanted to be, in fact. But, once she found Quinn and… that woman… everything would be over.

  Quinn would be back with Paul. Ian would go back to doing whatever it was he did with his time, and she’d be on the road to redemption. Everything would be how it was supposed to be to begin with.

  All she had to do was get this over with. Fast.

  Once she saw Quinn and made her see sense, Zoe could put this whole trip—and all the unfortunate choices she’d made along the way—behind her. There was just one more thing to do.

  Checking the address she’d sneaked from Ian’s phone, she pulled onto High Street, past the rows of tiny, hippy bungalows and mom-and-pop shops. The church was in the center of town, and in the cemetery behind it…

  Zoe shook her head.

  This trip was about Quinn. It had always been about Quinn.

  She turned onto a lane and followed the winding path until the overgrown trees nearly crowded the street itself. Driving through a tunnel of foliage, she parked and then stalked up the cobblestone path to a buttercup house with a white, wide wrap-around porch.

  She’d seen the place before in photos, could even remember playing in the little yard here in a very, very different time. With another cringe, she forced herself to stare at the two women on the patio—first her sister, her blond hair plaited and resting on her shoulder, and the woman beside her.

  It was ridiculous, of course, to feel the way she did, but looking at her never stopped hurting. The curly blond hair that was so much like her own, the shape of her eyes. And then the things that weren’t like Zoe, but were identical to her twin, Zoe and Quinn’s mother. The semi-crooked smile. The bridge of freckles over her nose.

  “Janice.” Zoe nodded.

  Her aunt’s smile fell away for a moment before righting itself. “Zoe, I wasn’t expecting you here. Come on up. We have lemonade.”

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Quinn, come on.”

  Quinn’s full lips were semi-parted, and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip before shaking her head just the slightest bit.

  “No?” Zoe raised her eyebrows. “Then maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me what in the hell you’re doing, exactly, huh? How do you even know this woman.” She flailed a hand in Janice’s direction.

  Quinn studied her with tired, sad eyes for a long moment before pressing on. “Janice and I are close,” Quinn said simply.

  Zoe let out a disgusted sigh. “Are you serious right now? You barely know her.”

  “We met at the funeral.”

  “The funeral? You went to…” Zoe pinched her nose between thumb and forefinger.

  “Look. I couldn’t tell you, okay?” Quinn said. “I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d do this. Thanks for proving me wrong.”

  “That’s not fair,” Zoe shot back.

  “No, what’s not fair is getting mad at me for going to our own mother’s funeral. That’s not fair.”

  Quinn crossed her arms over her chest, and Janice stood, the pitcher of lemonade in her hand. “I’m going to head back into the house. I think you girls ought to work this out between yourselves.”

  “Good idea,” Zoe spat.

  Janice disappeared into the little house. Both Quinn and Zoe watched her retreat before turning to face each other again.

  Zoe took a step closer to the porch, but Quinn stood and gripped the rails of the wrap-around porch.

 
"She didn't deserve that," Quinn said. "She's never done anything to you."

  "Exactly," Zoe's mouth was a hard line, and the anger inside her was roiling now, building up the back of her neck and getting ready to spill out.

  "Zoe, go home," Quinn said.

  And that was it. Those were the exact words that made the dam holding back all her anger and frustration break wide open.

  "Go home?" Zoe cried. "Do you know how long it's taken me to find you? Do you have any idea what you've done? Not just to Paul, but to me? To our friends? You just get it in your head to run away from your problems and not worry about the consequences? Well, life doesn't work like that. You don't just get off scot-free regardless of what this woman might have to say about it." She gestured to the door again, and Quinn narrowed her eyes.

  "Leave Janice out of this. Your problem is with me. Look, didn't Ian call? I asked him to—"

  The mention of Ian’s name was like nails on a chalkboard, and Zoe winced. "This isn't about Ian, either. You shouldn't have had to—"

  "What? Leave? And if I didn't, what were my choices? Face up to everyone, and tell Paul I didn't love him enough in front of his whole family? Do you really think that would have been the kinder thing to do? Or is it better for him now, with the sympathy of his family around him and the knowledge that I was some confused woman who ran off?"

  "You would think running was the nobler answer. I can see why you and that woman get along now," Zoe shot back.

  Quinn tilted her head to the side then began nodding slowly. "I see now," Quinn said.

  "You see what? How inconsiderate and ungrateful and selfish—"

  "This isn't about me," Quinn said. "Just like this isn't about Janice. You don't care that I know her or that I left Paul. You only care that I ran off. Like she did."

  Zoe swallowed hard. "That doesn't make any damn sense. I haven't even thought about her in years."

  "Haven't you?" Quinn raised her eyebrows. "So you just get irrationally mad when you see our aunt? It had nothing to do with the fact that they were twins?"

  Zoe rolled her eyes. "Now who doesn't want to talk about the topic at hand?"

  "Zoe, what did you think was going to happen if you came here? That you'd drag me back to Connecticut and we'd reschedule the wedding—life as usual? What was your end goal?"

  Zoe licked her lips, thinking. In truth, she hadn't imagined much past saving Quinn from whatever likely-alcohol-addled state she was in. Had she hoped Paul might take her back? Of course, but after everything that had happened between them, even Zoe had to admit that was a pipe dream at best.

  So what had she wanted?

  "I just needed to know you were safe," Zoe answered, finally.

  "And you see that I am. So, what do you plan to do now?" Quinn asked.

  "You still need to come home and face the consequences of what you did. It's not right to leave Paul returning gifts from his own jilted wedding."

  "And you couldn't have told Ian to tell me that? You had to come after me?" Quinn's eyes softened as she appraised Zoe with a clear, penetrating gaze that made her want to shift a little and hide her expression.

  "Look, you're not going to make out like I'm the bad guy here," Zoe said. "You know what you did."

  "I came to see our aunt. Which is what you're most upset about, I'd be willing to guess."

  "I—"

  Quinn cut her off. "Zoe, there are things about Janice and about Mom that you don't understand."

  Zoe let out a humorless laugh. "I'm sure that's what she would tell you."

  "It's the truth." Quinn let out a deep breath then spread her arms wide. "Look, I know you remember her, and you were hurt. But for me, she's just a story. I went to the funeral because I wanted more chapters, you know? And when I met Janice, and she was able to tell me everything… well, I started coming here just about every summer, after the fact."

  "Bully for you," Zoe said. "I don't see what any of this has to do with you and me, though."

  "Don't you?" Quinn asked. When Zoe didn't bother to respond, she pressed on. "Look, I know you want me to come back to Connecticut, and I promise tomorrow I'll come quietly. But first I want you to stay the night here."

  Zoe opened her mouth to argue, but Quinn held up a hand. "You've been traveling for days," Quinn maintained. "I want you to get some good rest. All you have to do is eat dinner with us. For the rest of the time, you can hole up and hide if you want."

  Zoe stiffened. Quinn had boxed her into a corner—she knew that—but she could still pretend like there was room for negotiation.

  "What about Paul?" Zoe asked.

  "I'll call him and explain myself."

  "That's it? A call?" Zoe asked, and Quinn gave a single nod.

  "I think he'll understand, but if he doesn't… well, we're not getting back together." She shrugged.

  Zoe chewed the inside of her cheek then said, "Fine. You have a deal. I'll stay. But only for tonight, and we are leaving first thing in the morning. Do you understand?"

  Quinn gave her a gentle, sad smile. "Yeah, sounds like a deal. Now, come on. You should sit down for a while."

  Zoe breathed deep and took another step toward the house. It shouldn't have bothered her, truly. The deal was a good one.

  But the idea of seeing her aunt again, with those eyes that were so much like her own, like her mother's...

  A coil of dread snaked up her spine, and she sighed again, wondering what exactly she'd gotten herself into this time.

  Eleven

  Dinner that night was tense, to say the least.

  Aside from the clatter of cutlery on china, nobody said a word to each other—though this was not for Janice’s lack of trying. It felt like every three minutes, she was clearing her throat and asking Zoe or Quinn a question that made the situation worse rather than better.

  Like, for example, now—when she asked how their father was doing.

  “Yup,” Zoe took a gulp of her wine. “You guys really did form an everlasting bond here, huh?”

  "Stop it," Quinn growled under her breath.

  Janice looked from one of them to the other in confusion. "What? What's wrong?"

  "Our father died," Zoe explained. "Last year. Which you would have known if you're as close as Quinn says you are."

  "We don't talk much about Dad, actually," Quinn said. "I didn't think to mention him."

  "Funny how that works," Zoe shot back.

  Janice dropped her fork onto the table with a clunk. "You father passed?"

  Quinn nodded. "We were talking so much about Mom. I didn't want to bring it up."

  "I'm so sorry for your loss," Janice cooed.

  Zoe fought the urge to roll her eyes. "So we're calling her “Mom,” now?" She looked from Quinn to Janice and back again.

  "Look, Zoe, I know Dawn had problems—"

  Zoe wrinkled her nose. "Don't talk to me about her."

  "You might want to know a few things. She was interesting," Quinn said softly.

  Zoe scowled at her from across the table. "I know everything I need to know. She left when you were a baby to come live here. She left me, and she knew what dad was. She married him. She was an adult, and she left her two defenseless children to suffer." She looked at Janice. "Is that just about right?"

  Janice colored. "Your mother wasn't cut out for adult responsibility. She was more of a free spirit. I remember I used to spend half my time following her around just making sure she didn't get into too much trouble. God, she was a nightmare. Then she went off to college and came home married to your father. Our parents weren't even shocked." Janice laughed. "You know, your parents had a little makeshift ceremony in the backyard here? This used to be—"

  "Your parents' house. I know," Zoe answered, and silence reigned again.

  Quinn reached across the table and grabbed a roll, buttering it quietly as she stared down at her plate.

  "Did she tell you about Paul, too?" Zoe asked Janice. "I would guess not since you didn't make it to the
wedding."

  "I didn't come to the wedding because your sister knew it would upset you. I know what happened with your mother—"

  "Dawn," Zoe corrected.

  "Dawn, then. What happened with her was hardest on you because you were older—not much older, but older. I do wonder what you remember about her, though." Janice turned a curious gaze on her, and Zoe shrugged it off.

  "We were talking about Paul. What did Quinn tell you about him? Or about…" She almost said Ian's name, almost spouted the whole dirty truth about the letter Quinn had left. But it was too painful, even now, to think of him and the part he'd played in all of this. To think of how he'd wronged her.

  "I know about Paul," Janice said simply.

  "What about him?" Zoe demanded.

  "Honestly, Zoe—" Quinn said, but Janice held up a hand to silence her.

  "Ok." The older woman blew a deep breath out her nose. "I know you set Quinn and Paul up and that Quinn loves Paul but she's not in love with Paul. I know he's a good man, and I know he's probably having an awful time right now, just like your sister is."

  "How awful a time could it be?" Zoe raised her eyebrows. "When I'm always there to clean up after her messes?"

  "Enough." Quinn slammed her butter knife onto the table. "I told you I'd come in peace, but you don't have to treat Janice like this. We both know this has nothing to do with me, and you're just uncomfortable because she looks so much like Mom."

  "Dawn," Zoe corrected.

  "Mom," Quinn shot back. "And you only know about mom through dad, who is not exactly the most trusted source, as far as I can recall."

  "How dare you—?"

  "Come on, Zoe. Don't play dumb. You really think Mom would have left two kids with a gambler if she'd had any other choice? Her parents were sick, and Janice was overseas in the military. They needed someone here with them."

  "She could have brought us," Zoe argued, her throat suddenly scratchy.

  "She couldn't. Dad wouldn't let her. He hit her, Zoe."

  Zoe laughed. "You're out of your mind. You're going to trust this woman instead of your own family?"

  "This woman is my own family, and I do trust her because…" Quinn took a deep breath. "Dad hit me, too."