Ride: Hearts Wild Series

by Allison Gatta

  "What?" Zoe spluttered.

  "You were always working or at school, and it was just the two of us a lot of the time. When he'd come home after a bad losing streak, he'd lose his temper and sometimes… sometimes he'd hit me."

  "Why would he only hit you?" Zoe asked. "That doesn't—"

  "Because he probably knew you were too strong to take it. He knew you'd leave and take me with you, and he needed you to support him."

  Zoe shook her head. "That can't be true."

  "It's true," Janice whispered. "Your mother only stayed away because it was no longer safe for her there. She knew you were safe. That was the deal—she'd never turn him in so long as you girls were safe."

  "And he kept his promise until the day she died," Quinn said, "and not a moment after."

  Zoe's head swam. "Why… why would you never tell me?"

  "I think we can both agree you worry about me enough to begin with," Quinn said. "I knew how you felt about Mom. I didn't want you to think of Dad… Well, you needed a rock. I always had you to depend on."

  Tears swam in her eyes, and briefly, she wondered if Ian knew. If this was just another thing he'd kept from her for Quinn's sake.

  "Have you talked about it with anybody else?" Zoe asked.

  Quinn shook her head. "Only Janice. When he first hit me, I wondered… I called her to see what she knew."

  Janice took Quinn's hand in hers. "I tried to get custody of you girls for years, but no lawyer would take me on while your father was still alive. You were already in your teens by then. Besides, seeing me…" She gave Zoe an understanding smile. "I know it's hard to look at me and not see her."

  It was true. Whenever Janice spoke, it felt like her mother had risen from the dead and was sitting at the table beside them. They just looked so much alike, sounded so much alike. Except, of course, that Janice looked rigid and serious where Dawn's face had always been smooth and worry-free. Just like Quinn’s.

  "What can you tell me about her?" Zoe asked. Janice offered her another smile before pulling out a stack of old albums.

  For the next few hours, they poured over old pictures as Janice told them about her upbringing and what Dawn—their mother, she corrected—had been like as a child and a teen. By all accounts, she was Quinn in just about every way.

  When she walked, she practically glided, and every person she met was an opportunity to make a new friend or learn a new fact or skill. Dawn saw the beauty in everything, and as Janice flipped through the pictures, Zoe felt her own heart lifting slightly, like an imaginary weight she hadn't been aware of was sliding off.

  Their mother had been fun. And she had loved them. And part of that was with her now. Someone was there watching over her.

  Janice flipped another page, and Dawn was there wearing a salmon-colored cocktail dress and flowers in her hair. Beside her stood a gawky boy at least two heads taller than her. She beamed up at him with so much affection she looked like her heart might burst right there on the spot.

  "Who's that?" Zoe asked, pointing at the boy.

  "Red Springfield. Your mother was so in love with him."

  Quinn nodded.

  "And what happened? Did he dump her?" Zoe asked.

  "Worse." Janice shook her head. "He died. Terrible car accident. They were bound to get married—you never saw two people more in love. But then…" Janice shrugged. "Your mother mourned and went off to college and met a guy with a good job and a steady lifestyle. He was different than Red in a lot of ways, but I think that's why she married him. Didn't remind her so much."

  "So she was hiding," Zoe said, and she stared down at the woman in the picture, seeing a resemblance of herself for the very first time behind Dawn's hazel eyes.

  "People do terrible things when they're upset," Janice said, with another knowing look. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to hit the hay." She stretched and then made off for the long hall at the end of the living room.

  Zoe stared after her, waiting until her bedroom door had clicked shut before turning to face Quinn again. "I can see why you like her," Zoe confessed.

  Quinn nodded. "Look…" She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry for not telling you about everything. And for messing up the wedding. And for leaving you in the lurch like that. And—"

  "It's fine." Zoe held up her hand. "Water under the bridge."

  Quinn rested her head on Zoe's shoulder, and silently, Zoe stroked her sister's hair.

  "I like your necklace," Quinn murmured and Zoe reached up to find that the necklace Ian had bought her was still circling her throat.

  "Thanks." Heat rose to her cheeks, but she pressed on. Right now was about Quinn, not about Ian.

  Even if it did feel like the whole world was about Ian, anymore.

  "Look, I know it must have been hard for you to leave Paul. I want to have the kind of relationship where you can tell me what's going on with you and how you really feel. I think the fact that you felt like you had to hide from me… well, maybe it's a family trait." She stroked Quinn's hair again. "But I love you, and you can never disappoint me."

  Quinn nodded. "That means a lot to me. Truly."

  Ian flashed through her mind again, and Zoe closed her eyes, thinking again of everything he'd said to her. Everything he'd shown her.

  "I think if you want to look for someone who will make you happier than Paul can, you should do it," Zoe urged. "I really do."

  "I think I will. I'm just scared I'll never find anyone."

  But what happens if you find them and let them go? Isn't that worse?

  Zoe nodded. "I know what you mean."

  She kissed the top of Quinn's head then let out a long sigh. "I think I'm in love with Ian," she said.

  Quinn straightened up. "My Ian?"

  "Um, yeah." Zoe nodded. "I was with him when you messaged him, which is how I…" She gestured around. "Don't worry. He didn't blow your cover."

  "You and Ian." Quinn let out a low whistle. "Well, I guess there are stranger things. Have you guys—"

  "You do not want to know the answer to that question."

  Quinn laughed. "That's probably answer enough. But tell me, does he make you happy?"

  Zoe considered. "More than anyone ever has before. He calls me on my bullshit, and he makes me laugh."

  "Then, my dear, you have my blessing." Quinn kissed Zoe's forehead and stood from the couch.

  Zoe stared down at her phone, wondering if she ought to call Ian and make things right immediately. Still, after leaving him on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, it sort of felt like giving him a call wouldn't cut the mustard on this one.

  She'd have to do something to show him how sorry she was… and that she loved him.

  She just had to think about what that something should be.

  This was beginning to feel pathetic.

  He'd called Zoe four times already, and obviously, she hadn't picked up.

  Sitting back on the bed, he scrubbed his hand over his face and considered his options. He could, of course, call Quinn from the number she'd texted and let her know that Zoe would be coming. But after everything that had just happened, that felt like an even worse betrayal than the one he'd just committed.

  Though, to be honest, after seeing her face, it was hard to think of having done anything worse to her than he'd done already.

  She'd seemed so fragile, so breakable in that moment. Almost like she'd laid everything on the line for him, and he'd done… what? Assumed that she was strong enough to deal with his choices? Hadn't considered what he was actually doing to her?

  He laid back and closed his eyes.

  There was no way he could chase her down and apologize, and even if he could, he had no idea where this mysterious aunt lived. Which, of course, left him with one option—he had to kill some time until Zoe showed up tomorrow, her guns still blazing.

  He flipped his phone in his hand then dialed the first number he thought of.

  After a second ring, his mother's voice filled the line.
"Hello, stranger."

  "You don't get to say that when you saw me yesterday," he said.

  "Maybe you're right. I just feel like that big old house of yours is taunting me." She let out a wistful little sigh then said, "So, what's going on?"

  "Nothing much," he hedged, wondering how much to tell her.

  He wasn't the traditional sort of mama's boy. More often than not, when he called his mother they spent their time talking about her army of blue-hairs or how things were going at the senior center. Ever since he'd become an adult, he'd been careful to keep his personal life exactly that—personal.

  Still, all he could think about was Zoe, and he had to know if he'd made the right choice, or more importantly, if he'd be able to find a way for her to forgive him.

  "Ma…" He let out a little sigh. "If you had the choice between telling Dad the truth about something he didn't technically need to know or keeping something secret that would actually help someone, what would you do?"

  His mother paused. "Ah, you found Quinn."

  "I didn't—"

  "You didn't have to." She made a little tsking noise. "So, you like this girl?"

  "I…" He thought of the way she'd looked in the car, the way she'd grinned at him in the casino that night. "I do, yeah."

  "I think you're in a difficult spot. You grew up with me and your father, but Quinn and Zoe never had that."

  "How do you—?"

  His mother cut him off. "Quinn is much better about calling than you are. But that's beside the point. I think you aren't in a position to understand what those two girls mean to each other or what their dynamic is."

  "Okay?"

  "All they've ever had was each other, and Zoe was the older one. In a way, she feels the way a mother might feel about her child. And, well, if you disappeared without a trace after something stressful like a wedding…" She made another soft tsking sound. "That poor girl."

  "Don't you think Quinn needed her space, though? She's an adult. She should be free to go and do as she pleases."

  "That's the rub, isn't it? When you're a parent, you know that you have to let your children make their own mistakes. But when you're not… I'd be willing to bet that Zoe has seen Quinn suffer too many times to let it happen again without doing something about it."

  He paused. He'd never really considered that. Of course, he knew that their upbringing had been rougher than most, but he never thought that Zoe's overprotective streak was actually rooted in fear. He'd always just assumed she was a control freak. But then, after being with her, what had she done to prove that? Nothing.

  "Ok, I think I understand," he said at last.

  "You know, I don't talk much about your grandfather and grandmother, but I will say that after my father left and we were alone with my mother, she jumped into hyperdrive. She felt like she had to do the job of two parents, I'm sure, and that drove her to the edge sometimes. And then, when I was an adult and dating your father, even in spite of everything my mother had done to protect me, I just couldn't imagine how your father could stay with me without leaving like my own father had done. My mother had worked so hard to make me feel like I hadn't been abandoned, but in the end, some things scar deeply. It took me a long time to trust your father."

  "So what are you saying, exactly?"

  "I'm saying that your father's trust and patience with me was what made me love him even more than I already did. He was like you—his family was stable and supportive, and he had no way of understanding what I'd been through. But he listened. He asked. I'm betting Zoe and Quinn would both benefit from someone who can do the same."

  Ian nodded. "I see what you mean."

  "So, if you don't understand something, ask. That's all."

  "Thanks, Mom," he said, and after a few more pleasantries, they rang off, and he was left alone again with his thoughts.

  Trust and patience. They seemed like such obvious, easy things when she put them that way.

  But they weren't. They were probably the two hardest things to master in the entire world.

  But for Zoe? Well, he was willing to give it a try.

  Twelve

  The next morning, after Belgian waffles and more family stories, Quinn excused herself to her bedroom while Zoe helped Janice clear the table.

  "So, I'm heading out today," Zoe said. "And… well, I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you yesterday. That wasn't fair of me."

  Janice shook her head. "It's already forgotten. I know you girls have been through a lot. I'm just grateful now that you're adults, we'll be able to get to know each other better."

  "Me, too." Zoe placed the last plate into the sink then dug her phone from her pocket. Carefully, she flipped over to her contacts page.

  "Look, I wanted to give you my information before I head out so that maybe you and I could, I don't know, connect a little more. I know Quinn's got a head start on me, but—"

  Janice beamed. "That sounds wonderful."

  She rattled off her number, and Zoe programmed it into her phone. "Good. I'll be in touch."

  "I certainly hope you are." Janice ran one of the huge serving platters under the warm spray of water, and Zoe watched her carefully, her mind reeling.

  Ever since the revelation about her mother and father last night, her mind had gone into overdrive. She'd barely slept for thinking of all the ways she'd been wrong, all the things she could have done better… and, of course, with thoughts of Ian.

  Today was going to be a day full of apologies, it seemed.

  "You got something on your mind, sugar?" Janice asked as she bent to stow another dish in the washer.

  "I'm just thinking… Well, have you ever had a guy who was sort of into you and also sort of your arch nemesis but not really?"

  Janice laughed. "Those are the best ones, aren't they?"

  The image of Ian's dark hair and crystal blue eyes came into focus. "Yeah, they are, huh?" Zoe said.

  "Well, what about 'em?" Janice asked.

  "It's just… I had this guy sort of thing going on, and I messed it up pretty badly. Now I'm just trying to think of a way to fix it."

  "Are you sure it's something you want to fix?" Janice asked.

  Again, the image of Ian's full lips pulling into a smile flashed across her mind.

  "I'm sure," Zoe said.

  "Well," Janice dried her hands on a nearby dishtowel. "In my experience, it's usually best to be honest and admit what you've done wrong."

  "I can do that, but…" But what? She pictured Ian, alone in that little villa house, waiting for her in nothing but his towel.

  "It doesn't seem like enough?" Janice offered, and Zoe nodded.

  "I've been kind of…"

  "Oh, you don't have to tell me." Janice laughed. "But, I find if I need to apologize and I was a real… well, you-know-what, I try to think of what might mean the most to that person and do something in that vein. Can you think of anything that would be particularly special to this person?"

  Zoe let out a deep breath, racking her brain. She could get him a gift for his house, or maybe a new toolbelt.

  But what did buying things mean to Ian? Nothing.

  The things that meant the most to him were intangible—dinners with his family, time spent with his friends.

  And that was when it hit her.

  "Janice, do you have a pad of paper and a pen?"

  "I'm sure I do somewhere."

  "Can I have it?" she asked.

  And, jeez, was she going to need a whole lot of paper.

  Ian sat back on the bed, staring at the wallpaper with fresh eyes. He'd already taken his second shower of the day, phoned work five times, and cruised through the channels on the television about a thousand times over. Nothing helped. Nothing distracted him from the boredom or the frustration or the need to do something, anything at all that could show Zoe how he felt.

  Ever since he'd gotten off the phone with his mother, he'd wanted to call her and set the record straight, apologize for lying and manipul
ating her. But then he'd think of everything his mother had said about being patient, about knowing when to give the other person their space.

  But seriously, how much space did she need? She had been gone for almost twenty-four hours, and when she did show up, she was going to have Quinn in tow, which would only make things that much more awkward.

  Still, he had to do something. He just hadn't figured out what.

  He got up to pace the room again, but just as he reached the edge of the bathroom, there was a loud knock at the door.

  With a mental sigh, he called, "The 'Do Not Disturb' sign must have fallen. I don't need cleaning or turn down."

  "Open the door," a female voice called, and his heart stopped in his chest.

  Zoe was back, and he still hadn't come up with a damn thing to show her how sorry he was.

  Quickly, he made for the door and swung it open in time for her sidestep him and wave a pad of paper in the air.

  "I have some things to say," she started, and he nodded, closing the door behind him.

  "Me, too."

  "I'm sorry," they said as one, and each of them stared at the other for a long moment.

  "Here," she said then thrust a yellow legal pad toward him.

  He scanned the words first before focusing in to read more carefully.

  Dear Ian,

  I'm an idiot. Or, at least, I was. I have so many things to apologize for that I think I'll probably start in chronological order and work my way forward.

  Firstly, I'm sorry that when I first met you, I referred to you as "Bob and Builder."

  He looked up from the paper. "You called me Bob the Builder?"

  She blushed. "I thought Quinn had told you."

  He shook his head. "Nope."

  "Well… it's sort of a compliment, if you think about it." She waved a hand. "Oh, just keep reading, okay?"

  I saw you with this hot girl and then another and another, and I made assumptions about you. I worried you were luring my sister in to break her heart. That was wrong of me to assume and I should have given you a fair chance.