CHAPTER
20
SUNDAY MORNING, Quinn awoke early. She didn’t want to get out of her bed, go to church, or do any of the things she normally did on Sundays.
She wanted to crawl into a hole. She’d made such a fool of herself last night she could hardly stand it, and knowing that both Jaden and Carly had been there to witness it made everything that much worse.
After her childish outburst and public argument with Grady, everyone around the table had grown tense. Jaden had tried to lighten the mood with talk of skiing, but Grady looked like he’d rather be chewing on nails than sitting there one more minute. She was lucky he didn’t drive off without all of them, and honestly, she was kind of surprised he didn’t.
Now, lying in her warm bed, her body ached from putting it through the task of skiing, using muscles she didn’t even know she had, and she thought she might die from humiliation.
Sunday. Church at The Pointe, Harbor Pointe’s largest small church, and then brunch at her dad’s. Hopefully Carly had a conflict. She did not want to rehash last night’s disaster.
After she showered, she sat down with a bowl of oatmeal and flipped open her laptop. Her Facebook newsfeed was lame on all counts, but she tried to keep up on the latest with her friends and her community. Plus, it was a great distraction.
She was mid-bite when Grady’s face showed up on a video someone had posted that linked to the Facebook page of the local news. Instinctively, she enlarged the video and turned up the volume.
A blonde reporter proceeded to recount the details of Grady’s “fall from the top,” which she called “more of a crash and burn.” They replayed images of his wipeout last weekend, followed by the mug shot Quinn’s father had taken and someone had released to the press. Quinn’s money was on Walker.
“Matthew Phillips, who has taken Benson’s spot as the next face of Bowman Skis, had this to say about the fallen Olympian.”
The image of a rugged-looking, not-quite-attractive man with sandy hair popped on the screen. “You know, Grady has given a lot to the sport, and we all thank him for that, but I think there’s a general consensus that, you know, when it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”
Back to the reporter. “The Olympic ski coaches all seem to agree with Phillips that, yes, it is time for Benson to hang up his skis and—”
Quinn clicked the video off, minimizing it so her newsfeed showed up again. She couldn’t help it—she felt sorry for Grady. How awful would it be to have your every move critiqued for the masses?
She kept scrolling and came across another video. This one, posted by someone whose name was vaguely familiar, was homemade—filmed on an iPhone. She watched as the video panned to a familiar spot at the top of the bunny hill at Avalanche Mountain, where the image of Grady standing next to Quinn in her puffy white marshmallow coat appeared on the screen.
She gasped.
“What do we have here?” A man’s voice, stifling a laugh, impersonated a reporter. “Looks like Grady Benson is trading in the Olympics to teach private ski lessons. Leave it to this would-be womanizer to find a way to pass the time.”
A close-up of a look between Quinn and Grady—a private moment, just after she’d finished her first run. Quinn’s heart clenched. There had been people filming them on and off all day. She hadn’t thought anything of it.
Quinn continued to stare at the screen as the video stopped. She felt so . . . violated. They’d twisted everything. They’d gotten it all wrong. Made Grady look like a laughingstock and Quinn like his latest conquest. She stood and paced across the living room floor. Now she felt even more terrible for the way she’d acted yesterday—she’d had no idea Grady was up against this kind of negativity.
Her phone buzzed. When she picked it up, she saw a text from her sister:
You’re coming to church today, right?
Quinn wasn’t fooled into thinking Carly was concerned for her salvation—she simply didn’t want to sit there with their father and Beverly without Quinn as a buffer. While Gus was the kind of guy everyone in the world seemed to be able to get along with, Carly was the exception.
She texted back a quick Yes, then rinsed out her bowl.
She didn’t expect her sister to have any more to say, but another text came through seconds later.
Jaden invited Grady.
Quinn’s heart dropped. She wasn’t sure she could face him yet, not after this humiliating turn of events.
But then she remembered the odds of Grady Benson showing up at church were very, very slim.
“Did I see you in a Facebook video this morning?”
It was Lucy, dressed like she’d just stepped out of an Anthropologie catalog and wearing that you-never-tell-me-anything expression on her face. Quinn cringed. Was she really recognizable in that video?
“Don’t deny it. I’d know my Stay Puft ski clothes anywhere.”
Quinn groaned. She was the first of her family to arrive at church, which meant she was sitting in the second pew, where her father had sat for nearly twenty years, ever since the first Sunday after her mother took off. He’d told them later he knew he needed help—and not the kind any human being could bring. She supposed the good Lord had heard his prayers because his daughters had made it to adulthood in one piece.
Never mind the trouble Carly had been in or the fact that she had had a baby at seventeen.
Gus had done well. It was their mother who’d messed everything up.
“Pretty harsh comments, I thought,” Lucy said.
“I thought so too, and I don’t even like the guy.”
Lucy gave her a quizzical look. “The video of the two of you says otherwise.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Hailey slid into the pew behind Quinn, next to Lucy. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”
Quinn huffed. “I have not.”
“You said you were going skiing for Jaden. I did not see Jaden anywhere on that video.”
“Seriously? You guys cannot tell me you actually watch Facebook videos.”
“I watch them when I’m fixing my hair,” Hailey said. “They’re a nice break from Jack’s cartoons.”
“I never saw anyone filming me, only adoring fans with phones pointed at Grady,” Quinn said. “I think I should sue someone.”
“Right, you go out in public with Grady Benson, and you don’t expect someone to snap a picture or take a video?” Lucy looked away. “Just wish I’d been the one to get the whole story.”
“That was not the whole story,” Quinn said. “It was fiction! They made it look like Grady has been relegated to teaching beginners how to ski when really he was just trying to do something nice.”
Both Hailey and Lucy stared at her with those wide-open eyes that told Quinn they were reading way too much into her defense of him. Thankfully, Gus and Beverly showed up, and Lucy and Hailey gave it a rest.
For now.
Carly and Jaden walked in two minutes after the service started, and Quinn found herself relieved Grady wasn’t with them, no matter how disappointed Jaden would be.
Her nephew sat on the other side of Carly, sulking as usual, every trace of that vibrant, excited kid she’d spent the day with yesterday completely gone. What would it be like to have something in your life that made you feel alive like skiing did for Jaden?
For a fleeting moment, she wondered if Grady felt that way about skiing too, or if it had just become a job for him. He had said it sometimes felt like work. Regardless, the threat of losing it had to hit him hard.
He’d been going through something legitimately distressing, and she’d been nothing but awful to him.
As the music started, Quinn closed her eyes and asked for forgiveness. She hadn’t been welcoming or kind, and despite what she thought she knew, she didn’t have the whole story. What if much of what she’d read about him—the very articles she’d used to form her opinion of him—were as fictitious as the story and video she’d seen this morning?
T
he thought shamed her.
I’m sorry, Lord. She knew better.
But as the music swelled, she had the distinct impression that God wasn’t the only one who deserved an apology.
Sunday brunch at her father’s house was something Quinn almost never missed. She’d always told herself her commitment to it was because she didn’t want her father to feel lonely, but as she sat in the car across the street watching Beverly, Judge, and Calvin all filter in through the front door, she had to wonder if maybe she was the one threatened by loneliness.
Throughout the meal, she admired the way they all interacted, with their familiar, comfortable rapport. And when she caught a knowing smile between her father and Beverly, Quinn began to wonder if she’d been too busy to notice something had changed between the two of them.
When her father went to the kitchen to fetch dessert, Quinn followed him.
“What was that about?”
“What?” His expression was guilty and innocent at the same time. She had a hunch the guilty part was real and the innocence was a put-on.
“Are you and Beverly . . . ?”
He stuck his head in the refrigerator and hunted around for something. “What if we are?”
“Dad, it’s great,” she said. “And it’s about time.”
He popped back out, holding a can of Reddi-Wip. “You think so?”
She closed the refrigerator and faced him. “Absolutely. You two are perfect together.”
“Well, don’t make a big thing about it,” he said. “Nothing has to change.”
She smiled in agreement, but she knew it wasn’t true. Things would change—and they should. Her father had moved on with his life. He’d made room for love in his heart.
She was happy for him—so happy . . . So why did her heart feel alone?
For a moment, her mind wandered back. She could practically see her nine-year-old self sitting on the porch of their small bungalow, a house her father had bought for her mother because “she loved the porch and the swing and the way it made her feel cozy.”
Before her mother had left, Quinn had spent her afternoons at the flower shop, but the first few years after they’d sold it to Mimi, she spent them in the other place she thought maybe her mother would miss—their front porch.
One Saturday, she put on her very best church dress, brought her dolls outside along with her pink floral lunchbox, and stared across the street at the neighbors’ house. After about half an hour, when all her snacks were gone, her resolve started to waver. That’s when her father showed up.
He sat down next to her, and even though she hadn’t told him what she was doing, Quinn was pretty sure he knew.
“Nice day out here.” He nudged her shoulder with his.
“I’m a little cold,” she said.
“Maybe you should come in.”
Quinn shrugged.
“You don’t want to?”
Another shrug.
He wrapped his arm around her. “Maybe I’ll just hang out with you for a little while, then.”
They’d sat there for at least another hour, and while he never said so, she was sure he was giving her space to miss her mom without ever saying a word.
Carly was right. Some days Quinn still felt like she was sitting on that porch. Stuck in time because the pain of her past had wrapped itself around her ankles and kept her from moving on. And while she wasn’t an angry person, she was angry about this. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that her mother left when she needed her most. It wasn’t fair that while other girls and their mothers went shopping for school clothes, Quinn had opted for Carly’s hand-me-downs because it was easier than admitting she needed someone to teach her how to put an outfit together or go shopping for a bra.
It wasn’t fair that the woman she’d spent the first eight years of her life idolizing cared so little about her that she could simply walk away and never look back. Did her mother ever think about what she’d done—about the daughters she’d left behind? Or was she so engrossed in a new family and a fancy new life that she’d convinced herself her choice had been warranted?
Quinn needed to know. She deserved to know. It was like a giant puzzle had been set in front of her, but she hadn’t been given all the pieces.
How would she ever feel truly whole again?
CHAPTER
21
GRADY NEVER SHOULD’VE LOOKED AT HIS SOCIAL MEDIA. Hadn’t he learned this by now? He recognized the reporter almost immediately. She’d been at the lodge the day before, and while he’d noticed her staring at him, he’d assumed she was just another fan.
He should’ve known better. Lately, he had to wonder if, outside of Harbor Pointe, he had any fans left at all. Funny how quickly people turned on you when things looked bleak. Did he have a single real relationship in his life?
His phone buzzed against the white coffee table. Probably Pete. Again. He’d already called twice, but he could sweat this one out. Grady didn’t like being his last priority, and he really didn’t like being blindsided by all this social media stuff his manager hadn’t bothered to tell him about.
But what really had him on edge were the sound bites from his old teammates, dismissing him as if he were yesterday’s news. Everyone had made up their mind about him—they’d all but moved him out, like a scorned woman throwing his belongings on the front lawn.
He stood up and padded his way into the kitchen. It was almost noon, and he was unshowered and still in the sweatpants he’d worn to bed. He poured his third cup of coffee and opened the refrigerator, even though he knew if he wanted to eat, he was going to have to leave the cottage.
Was it laziness or humiliation that made that idea so unappealing?
He’d just settled back onto the couch when the doorbell rang. In the week he’d been here, he’d had no visitors, and honestly he preferred it that way. Maybe if he didn’t make a sound they’d go away.
But then the knocking started.
He set the coffee mug down on the table and pulled his Captain America T-shirt on as he walked toward the door.
Through the window, he could see blonde hair and long legs on the porch waiting for him. Amber? No, Ashley. Ashley something-or-other from the bar. And the pizza joint. She certainly was persistent.
He pulled open the door and she gave him a once-over. “I bet you just woke up.”
“I’ve been up for a while,” Grady said. “What are you doing here?”
She made a pouty face. “I thought you could use some company. You’ve got the day off, right?”
He stood, blocking the entry, but she quickly pushed him aside and let herself into the cottage. “I’ve always wondered what these little houses look like on the inside.”
Grady drew in a deep breath and closed the door. Apparently he had company. Too bad she didn’t bring lunch.
She walked around the living room, eyeing the space. “I heard all about Ryan and Lane turning Cedar Grove into a real town treasure, but I guess now I’m seeing it with my own two eyes.”
“Yeah, they did a nice job,” Grady said. And they had. Maybe it had felt a little like a prison at first, but he realized now Cedar Grove was the kind of place he would choose to stay even if he weren’t sequestered in this small town.
“You should’ve seen them before.” Ashley stopped near the fireplace. “They were so run-down. Ryan saw something in them nobody else saw.”
She faced him then. “Kind of like me with you.”
“How’s that?”
“You know, everyone else has kind of given up on you.” She moved toward him.
Wait a minute . . . He took a step back, but she kept coming forward.
“I see something in you nobody else can see.” She was close now—too close. His mind flashed back to the night he’d driven her home after they hung out at the bar. She had been drunk—really drunk—and he’d practically carried her upstairs to her apartment, where he laid her on the couch. Her arms had been wrapped around his neck, and
she pulled him close, that smile on her face. “Stay with me,” she’d said.
But despite his reputation, Grady wasn’t a creep. She was drunk and it was wrong—so he pulled a blanket over her and walked out the door.
But nobody would ever see that side of him online. Even Quinn assumed the worst of him.
Now, as she slid her arm up his, underneath the sleeve of his shirt, he straightened. She was very sober—and so was he—but it was still wrong.
She was wrong.
He took her by the arms firmly. “I think you should go.”
Confusion filled her eyes. “What?”
“You should go.”
She scoffed. “You don’t mean that.”
He held her gaze. “I do.”
“So maybe everyone was right about you.” She took a step back. “You are a disappointment.”
The doorbell rang again.
What the . . . ? He just wanted to be left alone for a day—didn’t the people in this awful little town understand that? He groaned, walked back through the entryway, and pulled the front door open. And as soon as he did, everything within him wished he hadn’t.
Quinn stood on the porch with a bag of what he could only assume was food, a rare, kind smile on her face. His heart sank. He knew how this would look—Ashley in his house on a Sunday morning when he was still in his pajamas. He raked a hand through his hair.
“Wow, you look worse than I thought you would,” Quinn said.
“Well, I feel worse than that.”
He studied her. Jeans. Boots. Jacket. Scarf. Real.
Everything about her was real.
He wanted to invite her in. He wanted to tell her the way that stupid video had made him feel. He wanted to tell her that deep down, he was terrified what they were saying was right—he was done.
And he wasn’t sure who he was without skiing. Maybe nobody worth knowing.
Quinn wasn’t caught up in the flash and sizzle of who he was. It grounded him.
And he was about to lose it—about to lose her—before he’d ever had a chance to prove to her that she was wrong about him.
Just Let Go Page 20