by Lia Lee
Rochelle giggles hysterically. “Good luck with that, Trent. Our Quinnie would probably bring a textbook along to make sure you’re doing it right.”
I shoot my friend a withering glare. The only bedroom textbook I’ll ever need lives next door to me; and I’d give anything for another of his lessons, just to be near him again. But that’s not happening.
“I don’t need any prizes,” I say to Trent. “And I’ll take Alex’s word on your other talents. Honestly, the noise and lights are kinda getting to me. I think I’ll wander over to the kiddie section where things move a little slower, if you guys don’t mind.”
“I’ll go with you,” Trent says, his eyes lighting up.
“Great idea. You two go find a quiet spot where you can… talk,” Rochelle says, displaying a wicked grin. “We’ll be over at the beer tent when you want to find us. I think my giraffe is thirsty.” She directs her last statement toward Alex, still holding the giant plush monstrosity.
“Your wish is my command, my lady,” Alex says with a bow.
They waltz off arm in arm, and again I’m envious. I suggested the kiddie area because I wanted some time alone, thinking my companions wouldn’t want to go there. But now I have Trent tagging along, and I don’t have the heart or the energy to tell him to buzz off.
“You like kids, Quinn?” Trent asks.
My guts twist at his words, and I take a deep breath. “I do. I hope to have some of my own someday.”
“Me too,” he says. “But not for a long time. I’ve got big plans.”
Which can’t include me, Mr. High Roller. I see a carousel at the far end of the midway and move toward it through the crowd. It’s getting a little late for the young ones, so I expect the kiddie park to be relatively empty. As we get near the entrance, Trent stops at a booth selling funnel cakes and buys one with cinnamon and powdered sugar on top.
“Sweets for the sweet,” he says, breaking off a big chunk and offering it to me. The warm sugary aroma doesn’t bother me the way the greasy hot dogs did, so I toss my empty smoothie cup into the trash and take the piece of cake graciously. He’s trying to be so nice; I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
“Thanks,” I say, and take a bite, the lively calliope music growing louder as we stroll closer to the carousel. The light, fresh-fried cake melts in my mouth, and though I know I should be eating healthy, I can’t help but let out a groan of pleasure.
“Oh, my God, that’s good,” I mumble, my mouth still partially full. You didn’t have to worry about table manners at a carnival.
“Yeah, I never could resist a good funnel cake,” Trent says as we lean against a fence while devouring our treat and watch the painted ponies gallop in their never-ending circle. “Or a girl who appreciates them as much as I do.”
With his sly grin, thinly-concealed compliments, and his eyes reflecting the twinkle from the carnival lights strung overhead, I don’t need a psychology degree to know what he’s thinking, or what he’s hoping for before the night’s over. Since he lives out of town, and the chance of me seeing him again is remote, I find myself actually thinking about letting it play out. A smile, a hug, maybe a kiss or two… what harm could that do? I wouldn’t let it go farther than that. Anything to get my mind off my troubles, however briefly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say, returning his smile.
“Please do. Meant as such,” he replies, winking.
I swallow the last bites of my cake as he watches me and licks the sugar dust from his lips. They’re nice lips. He turns toward me and takes a step closer.
“Oops, you got a little there,” he says, reaching out and brushing the same powdery remnants from the corner of my mouth. “Can’t have such a pretty face covered up, even with sugar.” He glides his thumb back and forth over my candy-coated lips, and I’m locked into his dark gaze that seems to hypnotize me.
I can’t move as he leans in, cups my chin in his hand and kisses me, the cinnamon and sugar sealing our lips together in unexpected sweetness.
Chapter Twelve
Logan
When Worlds Collide
“Ice cream, Daddy,” Rose says, pointing to a brightly lit booth. “I want ice cream.”
“Maybe we’ll get some on our way home,” I say, clutching her little hand tightly. I had second thoughts about bringing Rose to a place where she could easily get lost in a crowd, but the temptation of rides, clowns, and food was too powerful to resist and provided the perfect distraction for both my daughter and me.
I think I needed the break even more than Rose. With Jolene growing bolder in her demands to see Rose I’ve been pressing hard for the restraining order to be dispensed. I half-expect to see her at every corner, popping up from behind a bush or skulking at the end of the block like a damn stalker. The bureaucratic wheels turn agonizingly slow, and I know she’s using this time to build a case with the family courts. Worse, Rose seems to have some memory of the night she spent at Lila’s and keeps asking about the “loud lady at Grandma’s” in addition to where Quinn has gone. I have no answers for either question that a four-year-old will understand, nor have I mentioned anything about moving again.
“I want some now,” Rose whines.
“If you eat ice cream now, you can’t go on the merry-go-round,” I say. “You’ll get a tummy ache. You want to ride the merry-go-round, don’t you?” Her yearning for a puppy has recently been replaced by requests for a pony, so I know she wants to ride the carousel in the worst way.
“Yes!” she says, yanking my hand and pulling me forward. I should be putting her to bed right about now, but since it’s a weekend and this carnival will be gone by Monday, I decide to indulge her and not worry about time. The downside is that being on the ASU campus makes me think of Quinn and sends a familiar stab of guilt through my gut. I hope she’s alright, and wonder how she’s coping, but I know my interests run deeper than that. As badly as Rose wants a pony, I want Quinn back in our lives; but I guess we all have our fantasies. This is reality. With a twinge of bitter regret, I know she’ll forget about me in the arms of the next hulking college football star she meets.
“There’s the merry-go-round!” Rose shrieks.
I buy the tickets and stand in the queue for our turn. “What color horse shall we ride?” I ask, perusing the parade of carousel ponies as they spin.
“I wanna ride by myself,” Rose says, sounding almost indignant. “I’m a big girl.”
I chuckle at her feisty declarations. As much as I want to keep her safe, learning to be independent is a critical life skill. I know that better than anyone. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t offer.” Rose allows me onto the platform only long enough to select a pink pony and lift her onto its back. “You hang on to these reins, see? Don’t let go,” I instruct.
I retreat to the nearby crowd of parent onlookers and try to still my thumping heart as the ride starts up and gains speed. Rose gives me an enthusiastic wave.
“Hold those reins!” I shout with cupped hands around my mouth, and I smile as she obediently clutches the braided rope around the horse’s neck. I watch vigilantly for the next several spins, and can’t hold back a wash of pride as she handles the ride without difficulty. I let out a relieved breath, and relax enough to take in the surroundings while Rose is occupied.
It’s a clear, starry night and the carnival lights just add to the magic. I didn’t experience a carnival until my teens, hanging with my other streetwise friends and finding trouble to get into. Carnivals were ideal places for that. A veritable Shangri-La for pickpockets and con men. I surreptitiously check for my wallet as I scan the area for shady activity.
Over by the fence between the carousel and the kiddie cars I see a young couple standing close together, engaged in a different kind of activity, but no less shady. The tall boy has his hands on her butt, and his lips locked on hers. The girl’s blonde hair glows in the surreal light of overhead bulbs and neon signs. She reminds me of Quinn, and I stave off a painful convu
lsion in my chest region.
I feel like a creep but can’t tear my eyes away from the scene. The vibration in my chest escalates to a burning tightness when I realize what I’m seeing. It is Quinn! But I have no idea who the horny young buck is with his paws all over her and his tongue practically in her throat.
The lights and sounds fade to a dull, indistinct background against the clear sharpness of my focus on the two of them. My body seems to move through an expanding tunnel, running forward but getting no closer. Suddenly I’m within arm’s reach, my hot hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Get off her, douchebag,” I snarl, my voice dripping with menace.
I haul him off Quinn with the force of a bulldozer, knocking him into the fence behind. He stumbles and grabs hold of the railing, and I catch Quinn as she loses her balance.
“What the fuck, buddy!” the kid yells, ready to launch himself at me in retaliation.
“Don’t even think about it!” I growl, pointing an accusing finger at him while locking Quinn in my opposite arm.
“Logan!” Quinn shrieks, pawing at me and regaining her balance. “What are you doing here?”
“You know this shit head?” Trent sneers, rising to his full height.
“Trent, go back to the beer tent and find Alex,” Quinn says. “Wait there, I’ll handle this.”
Trent straightens his shirt and brushes dust from his arms. “You out past curfew or something, Quinn? Alex never told me you were a daddy’s girl.”
“Just go!” she hisses. With a last searing glare, Trent moves off toward the main midway. Quinn pushes away and stares me down, her blue eyes on fire. “Are you crazy? What the hell do you think you’re doing? How dare you attack Trent like that. Who do you think you are?”
Her words hit me with all the sting of a slap to the face. I don’t know who I am right now, besides angry and jealous.
“Oh, it’s Trent, is it?” I taunt, the name sticking in my throat like a splintered chicken bone. “Where’d you meet him, find his number in a University bathroom stall?”
“What’s it to you?” Quinn says. “Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean somebody else won’t. Dumping me wasn’t cruel enough, you have to humiliate me as well? You’ve got no right, no right!” She’s screaming and crying at the same time, then covers her face with her hands and turns away.
“Don’t turn your back on me,” I say, my voice still harsh. I don’t mean it as a command but as a plea. “Please… don’t,” I say softer. “I don’t think I could stand that.”
She whirls to face me again. “Why not? You did it to me. I don’t care what you can or can’t stand, Logan Brenner. Explain yourself, right now, or I’m leaving.”
How can I explain something I’m not sure I understand myself? All I know is that my blood boiled when I saw her with Trent, and I didn’t know how to deal with it except with my fists.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I never intended to humiliate you.”
“What, then?” she demands. “Do you just make a habit of punching out random people in amusement parks?”
I shake my head. “No, I…” Why did I react the way I did? The real reasons are buried deeper than I want to dig. “I’m sorry,” I say again, raking a hand through my hair. I look up into her blazing blue gaze that’s filled with compassion in spite of her anger. Her silky hair flows down over her shoulders, her shapely arms wrapping herself in a defensive hug. She looks both strong and fragile at the same time, and all I want to do is hold her close and never let her go again. I’m an idiot to try and deny the depth of my feelings for her.
“I need you,” I say, the words falling from my lips almost on their own. “I didn’t realize how much until you weren’t there. I said a lot of things because I thought they were the right things to say, not because I believed them. Everything I know tells me that it’s wrong to fall for a woman half my age, but I have. God help me, I have, and I can’t change how I feel. I love you, Quinn. I think I have since the first day I saw you. Will you forgive me?”
Her lips tremble as she unfolds her arms and reaches out for me. I step forward and gather her in my arms.
“Yes,” she whispers, pressing her face to my chest. “Because I love you, too. We shouldn’t care what people say. All that should matter is how we feel.”
I agree and tilt her tear-stained face upward. We share a kiss unlike any other before it, filled with passion yet tempered with forgiveness and healing. Her lips are moist and yielding, responding in equal fervor to mine. Even if I can’t claim to know what real love is, trying to outrun it or outsmart it is a waste of time. It will catch up to you when you least expect it, and now that it’s here, I intend to hold onto it with everything I’ve got.
“Logan, I have to tell you something,” she says as we break our kiss.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, honey. I know how much I hurt you by shutting you out like I did. Since the break-in, everything is going to shit with Jolene sniffing around like a rabid dog. I can’t bear the thought of Rose knowing her mother’s a crazed, recovering drug addict, and I’m scared shitless that she’ll try to take her away from me. And that she might win.” As I say Rose’s name, I stiffen in fear.
“Where is Rose?” Quinn asks, and I realize I’ve left her on the carousel. I can’t believe I could do something so stupid.
“On the merry-go-round,” I gasp. “Oh my God, she’ll be terrified if she doesn’t see me.” I turn and bolt straight for the carousel, Quinn following behind. As I reach the unloading gate, I stop dead in my tracks. My blood turns to ice as I stare into Jolene’s haunted, red-rimmed eyes.
“Hello, Logan,” she says with a leering smile, accentuating her garish red lipstick that seems crooked and hastily applied. “Looking for someone?”
“Out of my way, Jolene.” I move toward her, intending to shove her aside to get to the platform when she opens the lapel of her faded jean jacket to show me what’s inside.
“Don’t,” she says, gesturing to a shiny black revolver tucked in an inside pocket. “I wouldn’t do anything sudden if I were you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Quinn
A Mother’s Love
I catch up to Logan, almost crashing into him as he stops dead in front of me. I follow his line of sight, and I don’t need to guess at the identity of the thin creature standing before him with wild eyes that glower at him from a pale, desperate face. I know with dreadful certainty that we’ve come face-to-face with the infamous Jolene.
I almost feel sorry for her—dressed in shabby denims, her red-gold hair hanging in dull coils around her face and neck—but it passes when I see the handgun tucked inside her jacket. I suck in a breath at the sight, and her sunken eyes flicker past me as I peer over Logan’s broad shoulder.
“Where is Rose?” Logan demands. “If you’ve even touched her I swear I’ll wring your skinny neck, Jo.”
“Relax, she’s fine. See for yourself,” she says, jerking her chin toward the moving carousel. I watch the spinning platform until I spot Rose’s brunette head as she rides a brightly painted pink and red pony around and around. She seems fine but is clearly looking about for her daddy with each pass. “I told her I was a friend of yours and bought her another ticket. Said it was okay for her to have an extra ride.”
“I don’t know how you got here, or how you found us, but if you have any decency left in you, Jo, you’ll leave now,” Logan says. “Quietly. And don’t even think about touching that gun. Security will be on you like flies.”
Jolene tosses her head in defiance. “You think I’m so nuts I’d pull a gun out in front of my daughter? I only wanted to talk to you, Logan. The gun’s just to make sure you listen.”
The ride is slowing down, and my mind is racing as to how we can get to Rose before Jolene does, or before she does something reckless that can’t be undone. I feel the tension in Logan’s body as I stand close behind him.
“I’m listening,” he says, his voice ste
rn but even.
“I want to see her, Logan. I’m her mother, and I should get her half the time, fifty-fifty, all nice and fair.”
I clutch Logan’s muscled arm, sensing his desire to lunge forward and get physical with her; what Jolene is asking is not an option, not in a million years. I know how he feels about even acknowledging her to his daughter, much less sharing any kind of custody.
“You really are out of your mind,” Logan scoffs in disbelief. “You’ll never have that kind of access to her. The courts wouldn’t allow it, and I sure as fuck won’t.”
“Please, Logan,” Jolene replies, her voice sounding more frightened than aggressive. “You have to believe me, I’m not off my rocker. I’ve changed, really changed, for good this time. I went through hell in rehab, for Rose’s sake—just to be with her again. I’m clean, I swear it.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me. The only reason you’re here is because you know the courts will turn you down flat with your self-destructive history. You don’t give a shit about Rose, or me, or anything but your own sick needs.”
Jolene is visibly trembling, and something tells me it’s taken a lot for her to even be here and stand her ground. Despite her brave words she’s clearly terrified. She’s come way out of her comfort zone for the sake of her daughter, and that says a lot about her sincerity in rehabilitation. But Logan doesn’t see it; all he understands is his pain and his rage at the one who’s caused him that pain.
“No,” Jolene says, shaking her head and taking a tentative step forward. “It’s not like that. Things are different now. I’m not the same person as I was with you, Logan. I didn’t have the strength to deal with the responsibility of a child, then. But I do now. I’m better now, can’t you see that?”
“Bullshit,” Logan says. “A snake can shed its skin, but it’s still a snake. Don’t come any closer. Turn around, walk away—and maybe I won’t call the cops.”