by Amy Brent
“Remember when I was eight?” The memory hit me abruptly as I picked at the edge of the peeling linoleum top of the table. “Peter Thompson kept picking on me. Every day at the bus stop he’d shove me and one day I came home–.”
“Covered in mud.” Jonah interrupted, finishing the sentence. He shot me a rueful grin. “You were so dirty mom wouldn’t let you in the house and I had to hose you off outside.”
“I was so mad at him.” I shook my head, thinking about it. How it had seemed like the end of the world to eight-year-old me. I’d had a crush on Peter since the first grade. My heart had been broken, or so I’d thought.
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened.” Jonah chuckled. “I can still remember your face. Covered head to toe in muck but you wouldn’t open your mouth.”
“He ruined my favorite dress,” I muttered with a laugh as the memory rolled over me. “You followed me to the bus stop every day for a week. Spying.”
“Hey! Not spying! Just doing my brotherly duty.”
“Aka spying,” I said, but with a smile to soften the words. “I still don’t know what you said to Peter but he never messed with me after that.”
Jonah looked guilty for a minute but then shrugged, “I just told him that if he didn’t leave you alone I’d tell everyone that he still wet the bed.”
“What? That’s awful!”
“Sure, but true. I used to babysit the Thompson brats for extra cash. I knew the truth.”
We both laughed together but after a moment the sound died, that terrible silence rising up again in its place.
“Quinn, about mom and dad…” Jonah started, but then trailed off after a moment and I could see him struggling to find the words. In the end, I shrugged.
“It’s like you said, Jonah. They haven’t been our parents for a long time. Hell, you raised me after they left us. They don’t deserve our tears. They don’t deserve anything from us.”
“No. No, they don’t.”
“But it still hurts.” I didn’t even realize the truth of those words until I spoke them out loud. Jonah shot me a sympathetic look.
“I know, little sis.”
I closed my eyes, and behind my lids, I could see it all. The memories of my parents were vague. Hazy. They had never been a solid part of my life, even the few times they were around. As a child, I know Jonah shielded me from the worst. When I’d come home from school and mama and dad were passed out on the stain splattered couch, needles on the table in front of them. He would take me away to stay at a friend’s house, or the neighbors. Or take me down to the springs to play.
When they had left, it had almost been a relief for me. It had been harder on Jonah. I remembered that. By then, he’d practically been taking care of me singlehandedly anyways and we’d kept it quiet, forging our parent’s signatures, telling the neighbors they were just away for a short trip. We’d lied until Jonah had turned eighteen and could legally take care of me. And he’d been taking care of me ever since.
Even now, he was trying to shield me. More worried about my reaction than dealing with this shit himself. But I was an adult now. And Jonah had a life of his own. It was better that way.
I glanced at the envelope, Jacob Mayhew scrawled across the front. I didn’t really remember my grandfather at all. He’d died when I was just three or four. A name was all he was now, but the thought of him had me glancing back at the envelope. Maybe I would grieve later for the parents I never knew. Maybe I had grieved for them when I was ten years old and realized they’d abandoned us and were never coming back.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I muttered, grabbing at the envelope and tearing it open in one rushed movement. I pulled out the thick sheaf of documents but it took me a moment to untangle the legal jargon that covered the crisp white pages.
“Well, what the hell does it say?” Jonah asked impatiently a moment before taking it from me and he nearly choked as his gaze skimmed the pages. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I leaned forward in the chair. “What is it? You snatched it before I could read everything.”
“It’s grandpa’s will. He left everything to mom when he died but it looks like it’s just sat there in limbo for nearly twenty years. I guess mom didn’t want the responsibility.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I muttered. Jonah gave me a look over the top of the documents before going back to reading.
“The property is on the outskirts of town. Bordering the woods. The Springs run right through it.” He cut off, his eyes widening and I leaned forward again.
“What? What is it, Jonah?”
“It’s over twenty acres.”
“What?”
“It’s over twenty acres of land, Quinn.” Jonah shook his head wonderingly, “Plus the ranch itself. It’s got to be worth something. We can sell it, pay off some of this debt–.”
“Sell it? We haven’t even seen it yet, Jonah,” I paused, looking over at him, “We have to at least go check it out.”
Finally, he sat back, placing the documents back in the envelope and in its spot in the middle of the table. He grew silent again and it took every ounce of willpower not to pepper him with the million questions that were running through my head.
After several interminable minutes, he got to his feet and headed towards the door.
“Wait, where are you going?” I asked, tracking his movements with my eyes. He didn’t glance back, just tossed the words over his shoulder as he left.
“I need to think.”
“Well, can’t you think here?” But it was a useless question. There was no one else there to answer it.
I sat there for a long time, my thoughts circling, my chest heavy with a strange mixture of emotion that I wasn’t nearly ready to try and untangle. My feelings for my parents had always been complicated but now, everything felt even more confusing. They had been gone for over ten years, but now it was final. They really were gone.
And it was only then that I realized the tiniest part of me had always thought they might come back. Tell me it was all some big mistake. That they never meant to leave us. That they loved me.
“Hah!” I barked out a bitter laugh as I grabbed a cold bottle of beer from the fridge, swigging back half of it. The only thing John Moore and Becca Mayhew had ever loved was themselves, and the drugs. There was never any room for anything else. Or anyone.
I took another drink, then looked around the shabby apartment. It was still exactly the same as the day I’d left and for a moment it was as if the last three years hadn’t even happened. But they had. I was different now. Stronger. Better, even if Jonah didn’t believe it. Not perfect, not by any means, but better.
I knew what I wanted now. What I’d always wanted. I would just have to find another way to go about getting it.
My gaze landed on my backpack, still sitting in the same spot on the counter where I’d haphazardly tossed it earlier. Suddenly, Leo was there in my mind. The explosive chemistry between us. That’s what I wanted. Another hour to sink into bliss, where I didn’t have to think about anything but the incredible pleasure he could give me.
Don’t be reckless, a soft voice whispered in my head. It sounded suspiciously like Jonah’s. Don’t be stupid.
“I’m done with letting other people tell me what to do,” I said quietly to the empty apartment. Not my parents. Not Jonah. Not my professors. “It’s time to do what I want.”
With a deep breath, I walked over to my bag and fished out the crumpled napkin that had fallen to the bottom.
Chapter 4
Leo
I took a sip of the amber liquid in front of me and grimaced as the fire caught at the back of my throat and burned all the way down. Fuck. I hadn’t been lying earlier. The whiskey at Lucky’s really was as caustic as motor oil. But it got the job done. By the second round, I was starting to feel the sweet buzz as the liquor got to work.
It didn’t seem to matter though. As much a
lcohol as I drank, it still didn’t help to banish the thought of her. Quinn. All I had to do was think of her name and her image appeared in my mind like a ghost.
Blond hair that curled like strands of sunlight past her shoulders. Those green eyes of hers that reminded me of searching for a lucky four leaf clover in the grass when I was a kid. Freckles were scattered carelessly across the bridge of her nose and swept onto her cheeks. And her mouth.
My body tightened at the memory of her mouth. Sweet and sinful all wrapped up into one. A devil in angel’s clothing. It was almost enough to have me drooling right there on the old wooden bar top.
I shook off the thought, trying to ignore the twinge of warning in my gut. I was used to women running through my life like water, but something about this girl had me coming back again and again. And it was starting to drive me crazy.
Just one more night. One more night with her to get her out of my system. Then I’ll be back to normal. I nodded my head firmly at the thought. That was all I needed. One more night. But I didn’t even have her number. She had mine.
But that thought wasn’t much more comforting. Who says she’d even call? Who says she’d want to see me again?
What the fuck am I doing? Worrying about if some random hook up is going to call me back. Like a fucking teenaged guy with a HUGE crush.
And that wasn’t even the worst part. I’d gone and broke one of my hard and fast rules. Always use a condom. What the fuck was I thinking? I shook my head. That was the problem. I hadn’t been thinking.
One taste of her and I’d lost my mind, everything demanding that I take her hard and fast until she was screaming my name and then to do it all over again. My body still demanded, rising to attention at the memory.
“Fuck.” I shifted on the bar stool, trying to get more comfortable and to get my body back under control but it was pointless. One thought of Quinn and it was all downhill from there.
Resolutely, I turned my back to the bar, scanning the crowd at Lucky’s. It was a Thursday night, and pretty busy. Most of the tables were full, many of them with women that I’d seen at the bar before. Some of them I’d seen up close and personal in my bed before.
My gaze landed on a brunette by the Jukebox who was shooting me glances beneath mile-long lashes. There, what about that one? But mentally, I was already shaking my head. Not blond enough.
That one? No, not her either. Her eyes aren’t green enough. Over and over, I looked but no one else even caught my interest. That inkling of worry grew but I pushed it back down. It was just fun, that’s all it was, I told myself. But it was a different matter altogether making myself believe it.
“Can I get a shot of Jack?”
I jumped at the angry tone of the voice that suddenly sounded on my right but relaxed when I glanced over and saw Jonah sliding onto the stool next to me. Thank fucking god. I needed the distraction.
“Hey, Leo.” He nodded in my direction, glancing down at the drink in front of me, “You do work here, right? Or do you just drink here?”
“A little from column A, a little from column B.” I shot him a shit-eating grin that he matched. I hadn’t lived in Coral Springs long before I met Jonah Moore and recognized the kindred spirit.
We were both restless, more than a little wild but while I could pack up and move on to the next town whenever the urge struck, Jonah was tied here. Something to do with money and his sister. He’d never quite told me the whole story but I knew enough. He’d never leave. Not unless his little sister was settled somewhere, and maybe even not then.
“Mostly column B.” Stella interrupted with a good-natured eye roll in my direction as she slid Jonah the shot. He tipped his head back, downing the whole thing before waving for another.
“Rough night?” I asked, noticing that Jonah looked even more haggard than normal.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
I waited for Jonah to say more but he didn’t. “Me too,” I spoke into the silence, my thoughts drawn inexorably back to my mystery girl. “I met someone.”
“Of course you did.” Jonah snorted into his third shot. “When are you not meeting someone.”
“No, I mean, it was different. Something was different about her.” I shook my head, still not quite able to understand it myself, “I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“When did you meet her?” Jonah asked with a droll look in my direction.
“This afternoon.”
“And you slept with her?”
“Well, yeah.” I shrugged, glancing back at my whiskey.
“So you haven’t been able to stop thinking about this girl for…five hours? Congratulations. I think that’s a record.”
I gave Jonah a punch on the shoulder just for good measure. "I'm serious."
“So am I,” Jonah rolled his eyes. “Just wait. Some hot chick will roll in here tonight and you’ll trip her into bed and then you won’t even remember the other one.”
“I don’t trip women into my bed.”
“Really? A lot of them seem to fall into it.”
“It’s called charm, asshole.” I sneered at him but there was laughter underneath it, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I don’t need charm.”
“No, you just ignore women into bed with you. How’s that method working for you anyway?” I said the words jokingly but I didn’t miss the way Jonah flinched.
“Aw, fuck, man. I’m sorry. You and Sabrina still–.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I nodded sagely, “So that’s what’s got your panties in a twist? Sabrina still bringing you down?”
“It’s not about Sabrina.” Jonah snapped, sweeping his hair back with a restless movement that had me holding up my hands.
“Hey, sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“You're right. It's not.” Jonah knocked back half of his fourth shot before giving in with a sigh, “It's about my parents.”
“Oh, shit.” I knew a little bit of Jonah’s history but he rarely talked about his parents, rarely talked about his past at all. I knew that they were addicts. I knew that they had split when he was a teenager and he’d basically raised his little sister who was away at school or something. Other than that, I didn’t need to know. Over the last couple of years, Jonah and I had become close friends. The past didn’t matter.
“I don’t want to get into it,” Jonah was saying, shaking his head, “But now I’ve got this fucking property dumped in my lap and knowing my parents it’s all going to be some sick joke. And I’ll be the punchline. And now that my sister is back in town, I just…I needed to get drunk, okay?”
“I’m not judging,” I held my hands up again, “You know I’m the last person who gives a fuck about other people’s shit. I’ve got enough of my own.” I turned to Stella, “Another round, on me.”
“Thanks, Leo.”
Stella came over, sliding two drinks in front of each of us before shooting me a pointed stare. “You do know this all comes out of your paycheck, right stud?”
I just shrugged as I tipped back the drink.
“Work hard, play hard. That’s my motto.”
Stella and Jonah both snorted out a disbelieving laugh. “More like play hard, and then play harder, man.”
I just shrugged, not even bothering to defend myself. It was the truth. I made it my mission in life to squeeze as much pleasure out of the bastard as I could. I wasn’t about to apologize for it.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” I finally asked, glancing over at Jonah. He just shrugged.
“Do about what?”
“That property you were talking about.”
Jonah gave him a long, bleary-eyed look before choking out a bitter laugh. "Fuck if I know. Seems like everything I do is wrong these days."
“Hey, man, at least your little sister is back, right?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s just great.” Jonah snorted before rising to hi
s feet. “Listen, Leo. Thanks for the drink but I got to go.”
"I called you a cab, Jonah," Stella said, somehow knowing even though her back was turned and she looked absorbed in wiping down the glasses. "It'll be here in a minute."
“Why don’t you wait till it gets here? Have another drink with me? I’ll tell you all about my mystery girl.”
But Jonah was already shaking his head, "No. I have to go. I'll wait outside. See you, Leo." Jonah started walking backward as he tossed back a wave, "And good luck with your mystery girl!"
I watched him leave with regret. Jonah had been a welcome distraction but now that he was gone my thoughts were once more caught up in the green-eyed, blond haired siren. Her song was impossible to ignore. And I had the sinking suspicion that if I wasn't careful I'd end up drowning before I even knew the water was up around my head.
“Damn it.” I muttered, “I didn’t even get her number, Stella.”
The veteran bartender shot me a less than sympathetic look.