by Claire Adams
"Alright," he said, sitting up a little straighter. "Give me the whole thing again. From tonight. What did Trent say?"
"Trent said that Owen's roommate Jasper left the party abruptly with Anya. Then, the police showed up. The last two times, they have not found anything in Owen's apartment and this time, they found marijuana on him. So, they've arrested him."
"Must have been a lot. Intent to sell," my father said.
"No, I think he might have resisted arrest," I said.
"He was drinking?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes. He actually got very drunk, very quickly, which was also strange. And then when he went to lay down, Anya went in and was leaning over him."
My father held up his hand. "I don't need details from an unreliable witness. I'm assuming your feelings for him are clouding your memory of that particular incident."
"Yes, but I'll be the first to admit I have no idea what I saw. She was leaning over him, and her hair was in the way. It could have been a kiss, a conversation, or anything. Whatever it was, there was plenty of time for her to plant something on him," I said.
"So you forgive Owen for whatever it was?"
It was my turn to be defensive. "Why does that matter? You hate the idea of me being with him."
"But you want me to defend him. You are obviously willing to give him the benefit of the doubt," he said.
"Innocent until proven guilty, right?"
My father scowled. "But you said he caught Sienna cheating on him. Are you sure this wasn't all some twisted form of revenge? And, it would make sense if he turned to drugs after finding out the girlfriend he dumped killed herself."
I winced at how callously my father was able to discuss it. I knew he was looking at it from a lawyer's perspective, but it was still Sienna he was talking about. "He broke up with Sienna because he wanted to be free of it. Why would he then change completely and decide to get revenge on me, of all people?"
"Alright. So, he was intoxicated and allegedly kissing another woman at the party. He is not the only one that will be affected by that line of inquiry. She'll be brought into it, and you will, as well."
I shook my head. "I don't need my feelings spared."
"So, you would be able to forgive him if the truth was not what you wanted to hear?"
"It was a mistake, and I don't see how it can break the friendship we've had for years and whatever else we have between us now." I held my breath. It felt strange to admit there was something real between Owen and me now – strange, but good.
"You two were always a pair," my father said. "It was so strange, but you two were always talking about the same things, laughing at the same jokes. I thought it showed how immature Owen was."
"And now what do you think?"
"Now, I think your sister was an amazing person for recognizing you two needed to be friends," my father said. "And, I think I need to make a few phone calls."
"I'll check in on Mom," I said.
He nodded grimly and pulled out his phone. As I headed towards the stairs, I heard him asking to speak with a lieutenant at the police precinct where Owen was most likely taken. My father had a buddy there that shared my father's interest in tough cases and golf.
"Dean, it’s been too long. Yeah, I know you miss our late night chats. Well, I've got a good list of questions if you've got the time," my father said. "Seems like a friend of my daughters’ was brought in tonight. He doesn't know it, yet but I'm on his case. Did they bring in the roommate too? No? You boys are slipping, huh. Name's Jasper Collins. You're welcome. Sure. See you in a few."
I could not help but poke my head back around the corner. "You're taking Owen's case?"
"Yes. My buddy was surprised to hear there was a roommate. Guess there's not much on paper. So, your vagabond drug dealer theory is sounding a little more plausible." My father heaved himself up from the couch.
"I guess there is one more thing you should know." I squeezed my hands together. "Owen thought maybe it was you that was harassing him. He thought you might be getting your judge contacts to sign search warrants just to get in the way."
"Why didn't I think of that?" He chuckled. "Though from the looks of things, it wouldn't have scared you off."
"He's not a drug-dealer, I swear."
"Just let me go and do my job," my father said. "And speaking of jobs, I expect to hear all about your new plan and how you are going to finance it yourself. Breakfast tomorrow. You make the pancakes and I'll listen."
"Really? You're going to help Owen?" I ran over and hugged my father tight around the neck.
I felt his tired smile against my cheek. "Like you said, I could use a win tonight. Please keep an eye on your mother. She should sleep all night, but if… I mean, it would just be nice to know that she's alright."
I held my hands up to my mouth. "No, this is wrong, isn't it? You want to stay here with Mom. You can take care of all of this in the morning. I shouldn't have pushed this on you tonight."
He patted my cheek. "I would not have slept, anyway. You know me. I would be in my office until the crack of dawn. I got used to this schedule a long time ago. It’s just part of the job."
"Thank you," I said.
My father nodded and left to join Owen at the jail.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Owen
I parked at the end of the driveway and turned the car off. Just in case anyone was looking from the house, I checked my phone. Not that I was nervous. Mr. Thomas had come to the jail the same night I was arrested. That had to mean he did not hate me as much as I always suspected.
He had reason to, though. I had done awful things. I dated Sienna for much longer than I should have. We knew it was not working, but I was too lazy to change anything. And the whole time, I was really in love with Quinn. That was a fact that was apparent to everyone else but us.
So after I got drunk, said horrible things I did not mean, and was caught kissing another woman, it was a shock that Quinn's father had come to my defense. He never said a single thing about his daughter the whole night. When he finally did mention her, there was a smile on his face I had never seen before. We looked at each other like two men waking up from a bad dream.
"Quinn's really something. I hope you know that," Mr. Thomas had said.
With that thought in mind, I grabbed the cellophane-wrapped flowers and got out of the car. My stride hitched once on the front walk, but I forced myself to the door. Mr. Thomas opened it only seconds after I knocked. He must have been watching from one of the bay windows.
"Glad to see you decided to finally join us," he said.
I winced, despite the neutral smile on his face. I was just used to having him dislike every single thing I did. "I heard that Mrs. Thomas is feeling better, but I wanted to give her these anyway," I said.
"How thoughtful."
I took a deep breath and handed Mr. Thomas a long, heavy bag. "And here's a bottle of aged whiskey for you. I was not sure what kind you drank, so I can return it if it’s not right. I want you to have something that you actually like, so please tell me."
"Owen, I'm sure it’s fine. Whiskey is great, thanks," he said.
"I want to thank you for everything you did for me. Helping me out with the arrest, clearing my record, and for giving me a second chance," I said.
"Well, don't screw it up this time." He opened the door wider and led the way into the house.
I looked around and expected Quinn to bound down the staircase or come jogging around the hall corner from the basement. "Quinn is home, right?" I asked.
"Yes, she'll be down when she's done. Some practice test. She's been studying very hard and her scores are excellent, but she insists on taking every practice test anyway," Mr. Thomas said.
"Studying?" I rubbed my chin. I had been so wrapped up in my own situation that I had completely missed a big change in Quinn's life. Here I was already screwing up the second chance I had been given.
Mr. Thomas saw the look on my face and laughe
d. "Don't worry. It’s a big secret. I mean, I got it out of her, but then again I am the king of cross-examinations."
"So whatever it is, Quinn is doing well?" I wanted to look around for a hidden camera. This was not the Mr. Thomas I was used to encountering.
"Yes, she's really found her way. It’s the perfect blend of her skills and her desire to make her own schedule and have some freedom. Plus, I think she likes the idea of all the excitement," he said.
"Excitement. Freedom?" I asked. It sounded as if Quinn was going to take off for some fantastic career and leave us all behind. Was that why Mr. Thomas was so happy? Did he know she would soon be breaking my heart?
"Exactly how I feel about it. I'm more like you. I like work I can do in my home office. I mean, sure, I have to go and visit clients in jail now and then, but mostly, I can work from here," Mr. Thomas said. He clapped me on the shoulder. "That's at least something we have in common. I even suppose your tournaments are a lot like when I go trial. All those people watching you, waiting to hear what you say."
I realized my mouth was hanging open. "Yes, except you are actually helping people."
"No need for flattery, Owen. I finally managed to read that magazine article on you. Sounds like you inspire a lot of people. Real leadership skills and all that."
It was a relief when Quinn came down the stairs. She was stunning in tight dark jeans and a black buttoned shirt. The shirt was tucked in around her tight waist and the buttons undone just enough to make my pulse jump. She had finally given up the pastels that her sister insisted were best for her complexion. Quinn looked confident, sexy, and completely aware of her effect on me.
"Oh, speaking of the home office, I hear my phone," Mr. Thomas said.
I belatedly realized I had not heard a ringer, but by then Quinn was already in my arms. Her chestnut hair fell over my arms as she tilted back and smiled up at me.
"You look so shocked. I know my father did not say anything mean, so what on earth were you two talking about?" she asked.
"I don't know, but whatever it was, we agreed on it," I said.
Quinn laughed and the sound broke my reverie. I kissed her sweet strawberry lips and the world felt right again.
"Turns out getting arrested was the best thing that ever happened to you, huh?" she asked.
"If you are not angry with me for the way I freaked out, then, yes. Your father saved my ass and now we're getting along. That is the best possible outcome. Maybe I should have gotten arrested months ago."
"Back when I was still a good little nursing student? I probably would have written you off for good."
"Yeah, speaking of that. I love all these changes in you I'm seeing. Want to clue me in on what's happening?" I asked. "Your father says you are studying for something. He seems really proud of you."
Her cheeks took on the strawberry hue of her lips. "He is proud of me. He actually told me that the other day. I think my heart stopped for a full thirty seconds."
Before I could ask her more, Mr. Thomas rejoined us in the foyer. "That was my lieutenant buddy down at the precinct. He says that Jasper Collins is now officially in custody and has been charged. Your friend Trent did a great job meeting other people at that party. Through his information, we tracked down half a dozen witnesses that said Jasper offered to sell them marijuana."
"Good old Trent," I said.
Quinn smacked me on the arm. "He's turning out to be a real friend."
Mr. Thomas smiled again. "So, it looks like you are free and clear and just in time for your big tournament."
"Oh, I'm glad I caught you before you left!" Mrs. Thomas called from the top of the stairs. "I want to wish you luck and all of that."
Normally, I cringed at the sound of Mrs. Thomas' voice. It was hard to tell what edge her mood would give her words, but more often than not, they were harsh. That day, though, she seemed more at ease and when her smiling eyes met mine, I saw they were not clouded. Her normal fog of worry, anger, or depression had lifted.
"I'm glad to hear you are feeling better, Mrs. Thomas," I said. I handed her the flowers and fully expected her to throw them back in my face.
"These are delightful. Not quite my taste, but delightful. Thank you, Owen," she said.
Quinn smiled at me. Her mother was definitely feeling more like herself. "Are you heading out now?" she asked her mother.
"Yes, sorry. Can't break my appointment. Making progress and all that. Your father is going to drive me like he always does and then we'll meet you in Vegas. Good luck, you two!"
"It’s mostly him," Quinn said. "I'm just playing for fun."
"What?" I asked. The way her father had talked about freedom and excitement I had started to think she was taking up a career in the professional gaming world. "I thought you were in the competitor bracket."
"I switched," Quinn said. "Call me crazy, but I decided maybe I could just have a little fun for once."
"As long as that is all you do in Vegas," Mr. Thomas warned. "No crazy dancing or big bets or little white chapels. You hear me?"
"What?" Quinn asked. "You don't trust me not to do anything you wouldn't do?"
I felt a knot in my chest come undone when they all laughed. My parents were rarely home and had not been since high school. I realized that was one of the reasons I had not broken up with Sienna when things got bad. No matter how they felt about me, the Thomas family had been the only family I had for a long time. To see them happy and together unlocked a deep longing.
Quinn and I waited until her parents had left then gathered up her overnight bag for Vegas. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"No. I mean, yes. It's just weird to, I don't know, not be hated by your parents," I said.
"I know what you mean. I feel like they are finally seeing me, instead of just this knock-off version of Sienna. It feels strange, but good."
I opened Quinn’s car door for her. By the time I got into the driver's seat, my tongue felt heavy. The words I wanted to say were like lead. Quinn chatted about Caesar's Palace, where we would be staying, and the tournament. She did not notice my struggle to speak.
"Funny what your father said about the little white chapel, isn't it?" I finally managed to say.
"Yes. Especially since it is where he and my mother got married," Quinn said.
I swerved the car just a little. "What?"
"Oh, they had a big, white wedding where everything was perfect, but two nights before, they drove to Vegas and got married. I always thought it was so romantic," she said.
We pulled onto The Strip, but I started to recalculate my route so we could drive past the iconic wedding chapel. My heart was hammering because I knew that was the final piece that would make me feel whole.
"Quinn, I know this is out of the blue, but-"
"Owen, pull over! I think that man is having a heart attack!" Quinn said. She grabbed the wheel and forced me to pull over.
Tourist drivers went crazy with their horns, but Quinn jumped out of the car and ran to the side of the fallen man. Within seconds, there were sirens coming from two directions. The ambulances moved slowly through the awestruck tourists.
Quinn ignored all the chaos. She was bent over the man doing chest compressions. After a short eternity, she checked his pulse and leaned back on her heels. By the time the EMTs pulled their equipment out of the ambulance, the man had lifted his hand. He reached for his tearful wife's fingers and she thanked Quinn over and over again.
Two EMTs loaded the man into the ambulance, while a third stopped to talk to Quinn. Her face lit up in recognition and I felt a sharp stab of jealousy. I walked over just as he handed her a card.
"Feel free to call me anytime," the EMT said.
"Thanks, I will," Quinn said.
#
I never knew what people meant when they said someone "glowed" – not until I got back into the car with Quinn. It was hard to concentrate on the cluster of bad Vegas traffic. A bright smile played around her lips and her eyes sparkled at everyt
hing without actually seeing it. I worried that was what love looked like. I felt that way when I looked at her sometimes.
"You're pretty happy for a woman who just saw a serious heart attack," I commented.
Quinn blinked at my terse tone. "He survived. That is seriously good news. That makes me happy."
"Okay, but this seems like a different kind of happy," I said. "Does it have anything to do with that cute EMT giving you his card? What did he say? You can call him anytime?"
"Owen Redd, you realize you sound jealous, right?"
"You look like if I opened the window you would float right out. So, if you're not happy about the EMT hitting on you, then what is it?"
"For the record, he did not hit on me," Quinn said. "Well, maybe he flirted, but he was giving me his business card."
My heart thumped and I realized Quinn had just saved a man's life. She had jumped out of the car before I pulled to a complete stop and ran over to help. Not only that, but she had revived him and kept him alive until help arrived. It was amazing.
"You know, that's not such a bad idea," I said.
"What's not a bad idea? Helping a man having a heart attack?"
"Yes, but I mean working as an EMT. You have some background with the nursing classes you already took and you clearly have a talent for it. It’s something you really should consider, Quinn," I said.
She crossed her arms tightly. "Well, aren't you just full of career advice," she said.
"Come on, I'm just trying to help. I mean, you've quit college and are searching for something to do. You should at least think about it."
"Think about it? As if I'm not thinking about my own future? As if I'm just waiting around for someone to tell me what to do?"
I could not believe what a detour our conversation had taken. I dug my fingernails into the steering wheel and kept going. "You're back living with your parents and I know that's not where you really want to be, no matter how great they are being. It was just a good idea."