“What did you say?” I ask again, lunging forward. It’s a false step, one that makes me lose my balance. I fall to the ground and land on my bad knee. “Fuck!”
“Quinn, oh God, I’m so sorry!” Sheila shouts. “Oh my God, what do I do?”
“Help me get up.” I pant, trying to rise above the searing pain.
“Here, lean on my shoulder. Let’s get you up.”
Sheila kneels and wraps her arms around me. Using her legs to put her weight behind pulling me up, she and I grunt together and progress at a snail’s pace until I’m back on two feet.
“Thank you,” I say. “I need to ice that knee. And I really need to be alone.”
“Are you sure?” For the first time maybe ever, there’s no hint of trickery in her eyes. “I can stay and help you. Or I can take you to the hospital.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I have some painkillers. This happens. If it hurts after a week, I’ll go see Dr. Morgan.”
“Quinn, please.” Tears well up in her eyes. “I really want a second chance. I’m sorry I was such a bitch before. I just can’t believe we’re over. You know we were meant to be together. Everyone said so.”
“Sheila, it doesn’t matter what everyone said back then,” I say as gently as I can muster through the sharp twinge. “I’m in love with Abby. I know you don’t get it. I know we only just met. It’s real. It was, anyway. And you and I never had that. I sincerely wish you the best of luck. I just don’t think there’s anything I can do or offer you.”
Sheila’s lower lip quivers. “So, this is it?”
“You and I ended a long time ago.”
I shut the door behind me and go draw a hot bath. How long she stays out there is anyone’s guess. I have nothing left to say to her.
Chapter 14
One Month Later
Abigail
In my solitude, I learn that the power to put words on a page is back. I don’t stop to dwell on what happened with Quinn. It doesn’t matter. If I’m honest with myself, things were too good to be true right from the outset. I can’t say it doesn’t sneak up on me from time to time, but my answer to those harrowing moments is to open my laptop and start typing.
It’s not a legal thriller. My talents don’t align with that genre, which is probably why I wasn’t able to write anything worthwhile in the first place. No, the story I’m telling comes from me. There’s no label for it. I’m not sure it’ll end in a happily ever after, so I can’t even think about submitting it to a romance publisher or agents who represent those kinds of novels.
Mainly, I’m not trying to box myself in anymore. Fit a square in a circle or pigeonhole myself in a category that’s too restrictive.
I can finally breathe. The words that come pouring out of me shape a sensational story about love and loss, identity and essence, and the little miracles within the mundane. The things only those who are paying attention see unfold.
The flock of swans isn’t a flock at all, but rather a bevy. They play the soundtrack to my work, several of the males and females hissing at each other as a rite of passage in their courtship. Their white feathers create a stunning contrast with the backdrop of the vibrant spring blossoms.
Out here on the lake shore half a mile from my cabin, it’s endlessly serene. It probably seems odd to any passersby (which I have yet to see, but I suppose they might come when I’m immersed and I’ll never be the wiser), but for the first time in my life, I’m truly riveted by the characters I’m creating. None of them are me-not even the damaged and depressed female protagonist. If she were me, I wouldn’t be able to give her so much hope only to take things away. To watch her suffer.
If it sounds like I’m talking about actual people and not characters in a book, it’s because I am. They’re as real as anyone else in my life. In the absence of actual company, I write scenes that will never go in any book but that explore the characters in their everyday world. None of these passages are pivotal-they’re just a window to these people who populate a world of my creation.
Once every two weeks, I go shopping for groceries. It’s always when I know Quinn will be at his job, because the cashier is still in high school and has no filter. She’s got a huge “vintage crush” on Quinn and can babble about him for however long it takes for her to ring up all of your purchases. I tried buying less at a time, and discovered I learned just as much if not more about what he’s up to.
The only silver lining is that I now have his work schedule ad infinitum.
The other Coopers and Sheila are trickier, but going early in the morning means I can rest easy that none of their functional asses are out of bed. I take my time looking at the fresh produce that’ll go on tonight’s casserole, which I’m making from scratch.
Yes, I’ve only recently turned twenty and this is how I live my life. Not everyone was made to be a social butterfly.
Why do you always go through this rundown of excuses for how you live your life?
Because every time I run into someone from school, they want to know what I’ve got going on in my life. Talking about how my parents are dead and that their possessions didn’t clear the probate court for this long isn’t good. Elaborating on my utter failure with my career isn’t, either.
That awful conversation I overheard shed a light on how people perceive a writer. Why did my carrying around a notebook raise such scandal? Why was I the target of so much ridicule? Did they really have to go the salacious route, rife with sexual deviancy and tawdry nonsense?
Let it go.
I feel the urge to go write again, so I cease the aisle shopping and head straight to the register. The friendly high school girl waves at me and checks her watch, probably because first bell is going to ring any minute now.
“Vanessa will take care of you today, okay, Abby?” she says, checking her reflection and applying a few finishing touches to her makeup. “I have to run. Mr. Tomlin for first period.”
“Sure thing,” I tell her, failing to recall her name. She talks about Quinn so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if she sometimes forgot that she has a separate identity from him.
Actually, that all she has is a separate identity, since I don’t think they’ve ever even met.
I hear her squeal on her way out but don’t bother to check and see what it is that riled her enthusiasm. After the other cashier, Vanessa, finishes scanning all my items, she gives me the total and I pay, trying to not fret about the state of my dwindling savings.
The walk home goes by fast enough, and I don’t concern myself with putting anything away except the stuff that needs to go in the fridge. Hugging my laptop, I go on the hundredth foray into the wilderness. My isolated little piece of creative haven.
I make it to the final stretch of my manuscript when I realize it’s already dark out. It’s like I said: put me in front of a scenic slice of land and I forget my own state of being.
In all my weeks coming here, I have yet to come face to face with another soul. This time, a hulking figure appears, walking in my direction. I almost drop my laptop with fear. Who could it possibly be? This is an abandoned part of town. The houses are almost all vacant and there certainly isn’t anything exciting for anyone who’s not seeking a time-out from reality.
And even if they are, why would they do it here, on my turf?
“Hello?” I call out. “Who’s there?”
The only sound I hear in response is twigs breaking underneath the monstrous feet of whoever is coming.
Chapter 15
Quinn
Signal is spotty on this stretch, but when I do get some reception, the alerts for all the missed calls and voicemails stack on top of each other. After the fifteenth missed call from my boss, I decide to listen to his latest message. Not because I care about what he’s got to say. It’s a good barometer for me to figure out how much groveling I’ll have to do in order to not lose my job.
An echo reverberates in the open field, but I can’t make out what it is. A wild b
ird? The wind? Nothing at all?
My boss’s muffled intonation makes zero sense, so I put my phone away. It’s only when I focus on what’s in front of me that I notice that there she is.
Abby.
“You,” Abby says. “What in the world, Quinn?”
“I’ve been trying to call you all day!” I accuse. “I waited outside your door for hours. Hours. Raven down at the grocery store told me that you were there early this morning, and then I figured that even if you had errands to run, you’d be home by late morning or noon. At the latest.”
She rolls her eyes. “What do you want me to tell you? Do you think I owe you some kind of an apology? I didn’t know I was supposed to facilitate you stalking me.”
“It’s not stalking. I tried to get in touch every way I knew how, and then yesterday I just decided to come and talk to you in person. It’s been a month, so I don’t think it’s adding insult to injury.”
Nonplussed, she sidesteps me and continues to walk.
“Abby? Are you really going to ignore me?”
“You came down here. I can’t imagine what it is that you want, and I don’t think it’s unreasonable that all your efforts lead you to this: my nonchalance. I don’t want to talk to you. Nothing’s changed in the past month, except for the fact that I really, truly, absolutely, hand-to-God do not have a single thing to say. But if you insist on walking with me, you have about a quarter mile to say whatever it is you want me to hear. Then, you can consider the message delivered and we can get on with our lives.”
She doesn’t look at me once.
“Abby, please,” I say. “I’m begging you. I have to explain my side of things. I can’t bear to think that you’re hurt by my actions and you think I was so careless and reckless with your feelings to the point-”
“I’m going to say it again,” she says, sighing. “What do you think you’ll say this time that will make any difference?”
“I love you,” I blurt out.
That seems to get her attention because she doubles back and stares at me.
“Did you hear me? I said I love you.”
“I’m trying to figure out what kind of moron you are,” she says. “Why in the world would you ever tell me that?”
“Because it’s the truth and I needed you to know it. I need you in my life. I can’t stop thinking about you. And you don’t know the whole story. My brothers are jackasses and I haven’t spoken to them since that night at Moe’s. I won’t until they all apologize to you. Sheila is moot. She came around that night and asked me to let her in-”
“Let me guess, you two fucked nice and good on that couch where you and I-” She sniffles. “Never mind. Why are we getting into this again?”
“I would never do that with her,” I say. “I don’t want anyone else. You don’t have any idea how hard it’s been to feel like I finally met the love of my life and to let her slip away because I was stupid. I can’t even imagine how upsetting it was to hear all of that, but you have to believe I never participated in any of those conversations in high school. I didn’t approach you for anything other than exactly what I told you. I needed an out with my brothers. They bet me-”
“I already told you I don’t care,” Abby says. “Please.”
“You said I could tell you my side for the rest of your walk home. Please give me a chance.”
Abby sighs. “Fine.”
“I haven’t been with anyone for real since high school. Even when I had an official girlfriend, I felt empty. And then my brothers started getting on my case about how I hadn’t gotten laid in so long, and they felt it was their brotherly duty to impose a bet that would force to me act. It was weak of me to not shut them down, but that night, I really didn’t want to fight. I’d only come by the skin of my teeth and after another round of drinks, I planned to go. Then they made this ridiculous bet and you do not understand how impossible they are if they don’t feel like you gave it an honest thought.” I pause to take a deep breath.
Abby shakes her head, seemingly exasperated. “I sympathize with all of that, but your whole thing was that you needed to get out with a woman. You worked me over pretty well to get what you wanted. It worked out perfectly for you, didn’t it? You can fall back on your brothers’ gross bet and you also got, uh, laid.”
“I fully intended to simply drop you off,” I insist. “Then I made up that bullshit about the first aid kit because I wanted a few more minutes with you. That conversation in the car was the best thing to happen to me in months. Years. I felt alive, and that hasn’t happened since I heard about my knee.”
She stops dead in her tracks. “Wait, the first aid thing was bullshit?”
“Well, yeah,” I say, shrugging. “If you bump your head, you think a few band-aids or a thermometer or anything like that is going to make a difference? It won’t. Unless you had some telltale signs of a concussion or something like that, that bump was probably nothing and there’s not a single thing in a first aid kit that made a lick of difference.”
She takes it all in quietly. Suddenly, Abby bursts out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that this thing is ludicrous from start to finish. Ridiculous. I don’t know why you even care anymore. Who am I?” She shoots me a guarded smile. “I don’t know what to believe. But this whole thing brought back a deluge of bad memories.”
“You’re arguing against yourself,” I tell her.
She cocks up an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”
“If you were just a random person or someone I didn’t give a shit about, why would I go to all this trouble to come clean? Why would I be chasing after you after that nearly insurmountable run-in with my brothers?”
“What are you getting at?” Her voice isn’t a hair above a whisper.
“That I love you. And if you don’t love me, that’s fine. But stop hiding from your feelings and thinking you’re the biggest reject in the world. I love you. What do I have to do for you to see that?” I purse my lips and shake my head. “I don’t know what else you expect me to do, Abby. I’ve reneged on the bet. I’m sorry that I took it. It was before we started talking that night. I resisted you as much as I could because I didn’t want it to start like that. But then you wore down all my self-control and… I wanted you, okay? I wanted you and I couldn’t hold out any longer when you gave me every possible sign that you wanted it, too.”
“But you tried to cover it up,” she says. “Why didn’t you just come out and say it?”
“I was going to tell you. At the right time. I shouldn’t have stayed the night. I should’ve asked you out on a date and avoided this whole mess. I know that and I accept it. You can’t know how sorry I am.” I rub my eyes, the exhaustion of the past few weeks hitting me. “I don’t know what else to do. I just know I don’t want to lose you. We were only together for a day but it was the best day of my life. Tell me-”
Abby interrupts me with a kiss.
Chapter 16
Abigail
“I know what I want you to do,” I whisper in his ear. “And it involves shutting up and following my lead.”
There’s this wicked idea inside of me. It’s insane, but no more than the rest of my story with Quinn. I don’t look at him as some deity anymore, or like someone whose feet don’t touch the ground or who would never want someone like me.
I’m sick of getting in my own way. And I’m sick of things just happening to me. I’m waiting for someone to give me permission to live my life. What he did sucked. It hurt. But in light of everything else, and the sincerity with which he said he loved me, I’m willing to overlook it long enough for me to test out this theory.
“Starting when?” he asks.
“Now.”
We arrive at my cabin. It’s pitch black and I don’t have my phone, but Quinn makes enough of a ruckus in order to draw my attention to his phone. I turn the flashlight on, find my key, and open the door.
“I want you to lie down on the carpe
t,” I tell him.
It’s either that or the bed, and the bed isn’t neutral territory.
He looks puzzled but gets over it when I stand there with a firm hand. The problem is that when he tries to get down on the ground, he groans.
“Your knee?”
He nods.
“Sorry. In that case, the bed is fine. Make yourself comfortable. But not too comfortable.”
Quinn widens his eyes but remains silent. I give him some privacy, which gives me the chance to check on how I look. I’ve been in the woods all day long and I’m sure it shows.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t. The girl staring back at me isn’t the same one who stood on this very spot a month ago. Her eyes aren’t timid. Her posture isn’t set to a perpetual slouch. She’s lithe and strong. A warrior.
Abigail Swan, you finally arrived.
But none of that mattered if she only exists in a vacuum. Before I can even entertain the prospect of getting back together with Quinn, I need to know if she can exist with him, too.
I take off all my clothes and smile at my reflection. It’s the very first time I don’t flinch and look away. I didn’t go on a breakup diet and I didn’t start wearing makeup. I can’t explain it. Something fell away inside of me-there was this barrier before, and now there isn’t. I’m over it.
When Quinn sees me leaning against the doorframe, stark naked, his eyes widen again. I watch him for a long time and let him watch me. Neither of us moves.
Well, except for his cock. Even though it’s confined in his trousers, I can see how hard and ready he is for me.
“Take off your clothes,” I tell him, and they fall to the ground in five seconds flat. “I want to do something, but like I said, I’m the one running this show. I loved you dominating me”-I climb on top of the bed and straddle him, his cock nestling between the folds of my pussy-”but I need to figure something else out. I’ll explain later.”
Owning Swan Page 7