Chapter 29
Quinn
I held the bandana even tighter over my mouth as I walked up the last few stairs that led to the attic, kicking up a massive cloud of dust as I stepped onto one of the crossbeams. A pang of sadness hit me. It had been one of the last rooms that Leo had worked in before he’d left.
Before Jonah had beat the shit out of him and threatened him into leaving, you mean. Sadness morphed into a familiar bitter anger for a moment but I was too tired for it to last long. It fled, leaving an emptiness inside me and the taste of ash mixing with the dust in my mouth.
Over the past few days, my emotions had dragged me through an obstacle course. From hurt, betrayal, and a sharp bitterness to red-hot anger and then tearful regret that I hadn't done more to stop Leo from leaving when I had the chance.
I took a deep breath to try and control my overwrought emotions, and I regretted it immediately as I fell into a fit of coughs as I inhaled more dust and dirt than oxygen. My eyes watering and vision blurred I stumbled forward but I only made it a few steps before hitting something hard with the corner of my foot.
"Ow! Damn it, that hurts." I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing past the pain of my stubbed toe but that just set off another chain reaction of coughs that had me doubled over. Cursing under my breath I leaned down to see what I'd hit my toe on and shot a mean-eyed scowl at the wooden chest.
“Asshole.” I said, calling it names for good measure. I knew it was crazy but at least it made me feel a little better. The pain receded and my curiosity grew as I pulled the chest closer to me, careful of my feet, as I sat on a stack of boxes behind me.
Slowly, I popped open the lid. The hinges creaked loudly from years of disuse but it held together as I let the lid fall back and peered inside at its contents. It looked like was full of old shoe boxes but as I pulled one out and opened it up, I gasped at the treasure trove that I found inside.
There were pictures. Hundreds of pictures, taken from an old polaroid mostly, and yellowed and faded with age but being trapped up in the trunk had protected them from the worst of the elements.
I shuffled through them wide-eyed, drinking in photos of my grandparents, who I had never really known. My breath stalled in my chest when I got to photos of my mother as a child, sitting on her father's knee. Looking so young and innocent and happy that it broke my already bruised heart.
That was a woman that I’d never known. My mother had never been young or innocent and as far as I knew, the only time she was happy was when she was deep in the drugs. My fingers traced the child’s smile face as sadness filled me. But it was a distant sort of sadness. A regret for the person she might have been if life had been different, if she’d made different decisions.
I set the photo aside, placing it gently like it was made of the most fragile porcelain before looking through the rest of the box. I stopped when I got to one photo at the bottom and pulled it out with trembling hands.
There was a young Jonah, sitting on an overstuffed brown armchair, and in his arms, he held a little baby wrapped tightly in a pink blanket. Me.
Jonah smiled proudly at the camera as he held me carefully in his lap, protecting me even then. From the very first.
Like a tidal wave, regret and misery rushed through me, threatening to pull me under as my eyes filled with tears and for the first time, I didn’t fight them. I let them go, drop by drop until all I could see was a blurry outline of the photograph.
For the first time, I let myself cry. Grieving for the parents I’d lost, but never really known. For the love that I’d tasted for such a short time. For the life growing inside me and the fear that I would never be enough to love the baby the way it deserved, the fear that I would fail as a mother. And for my big brother. The one I could always lean on. The one who had always been there. And how much it hurt that he’d lied and betrayed me. And damn it, how much I missed him.
I cried for all of those things, but most of all I cried for myself. Finally letting myself feel, no longer terrified of my emotions, letting it all pass through me as I sat alone in the dusty attic and sobbed until I didn’t have any tears left to cry.
***
Jonah
I don’t know how long I sat in the driver’s seat of my truck, just staring at the Mayhew house. I lost track of time as I looked at the brand new patched roof and the windows, no longer gaping holes with broken glass like sharp teeth. Now, lights glowed merrily from within in a house that hadn’t seen any sort of light in over two decades.
The front porch had been torn down and built back up, sturdy and simple but painted a cheerful, inviting shade of blue-green that mimicked the colors of the tree line that led to the Coral Springs themselves.
I could almost hear the babble of the springs if I listened hard enough, a pleasant soundtrack to the miracle of changes Quinn had made on the unrecognizable property. My gaze caught on the newest addition. A big sign to the side of the long, gravel driveway that welcomed guests to the Mayhew Bed and Breakfast.
It was bittersweet, seeing the Mayhew name emblazoned on that sign. It made sense, the old ranch property had been known as the Mayhew house for as long as I could remember, for as long as my grandfather had lived there which as far as I could tell was just about forever.
But it was also my mother's name, our mother's name. Our parents had never married, content to waste their lives wallowing in a drug-induced haze, oblivious to the rest of the world. To us.
I let out a sharp breath. I had spent so many years protecting Quinn, keeping her away from the worst things life had to offer that it had become more of a habit than anything else. It had taken me a while to realize, and a while to get over the anger after our argument, but she’d been right. I was more than happy to cast myself in the role of rescuing knight, slaying whatever dragons I could find. But Quinn sure as hell was no damsel in distress. She didn’t need a knight. She needed a brother.
That’s what had led me back to this driveway even after I’d sworn up and down to myself that I would just leave Quinn to starve if that’s what she wanted. My conscious wouldn’t let me, though. I had fucked up. Bad. And it was about time that I made it right. As right as I could anyway.
It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, force my fingers to reach for the handle of the door and push it open. Stand to my feet, putting one in front of the other as I walked up to the newly renovated porch.
She really had done an amazing job turning the crumbling old farmhouse into a quaint, inviting bed and breakfast. She’d done more than I ever would have thought possible in the six months I’d given her to work on it.
I walked inside for the first time in weeks and my eyes went wide in surprise. As different as the outside looked, the inside was like night and day. It didn’t even look like the same dated old dilapidated house I remembered from my childhood.
Quinn had been too young when our grandfather had died to remember but I did, like a dream, in vague flashes of brown shag carpeting and scratched wood paneling. Peeling linoleum tiles and the ever-present smell of mothballs.
It took me several minutes to get over my awe at the changes Quinn had wrought to realize that she wasn’t on the main floor. I peeked into the kitchen and the office, with its small apartment attached, but she wasn’t there either.
I made my way upstairs, glancing into the bedrooms but I walked down the hall and saw the stairs to the attic had been pulled down and a single lightbulb illuminated the opening. I walked forward, my feet on the first step and opened my mouth to call up to Quinn and apologize but a noise caught my ear, silencing me before I could speak.
She was crying. Not just crying, but sobbing, soul-deep sobs that tore at me, freezing me there halfway up the stairs. Guilt swamped me. I knew why she was crying. It was because of Leo. She really did love him, and remembering the heart broken look on his face when I'd lied to him about Quinn seeing someone else, maybe he loved her too.
Damn, I really fucked this one up. I thought to myself, still not moving. The last thing in the world I wanted was to hurt Quinn, but I’d ended up doing just that. A mere apology wasn’t going to fix this.
I crept back down the stairs, not saying anything. I didn't know what to say that would make it right. I turned, the sound of Quinn's sobs still echoing down the hallway, following me as I walked back outside leaving her alone with her tears.
I leaned one hip against my truck, digging out my cell phone. I hated that I was wrong. I hated that I had to do anything at all to get Leo and my sister back together, but she was right. It was her life to live. She had to make her own choices, and as much as I hated it, I knew exactly what I needed to do next.
My stomach twisted into knots as I dialed the phone number I knew by heart and held the phone to my ear, waiting breathlessly as the call rang through. It felt like a million years, listening to the ring, waiting. Waiting.
“Why are you calling me, Jonah?” The all too familiar, sultry as sin voice answered knocking the little breath I had left from my lungs.
“Sabrina,” I exhaled her name like a prayer, “I know you told me not to call you.”
“No, I told you to go rot in hell, Jonah Moore.”
I let out a rough chuckle at the fierceness in her voice. “I know that too, but this is important. I need a favor.”
“Forget it, Jonah.”
“Please, it’s not for me. It’s for Quinn. It’s for my sister. I need you to find someone for her.” Sabrina Cole was the best private detective in the state, and she also hated my guts. But if someone or something needed to be found, she would damn well find it. She was like a bloodhound. Once she caught the scent of something, you had no chance of escaping her. I had learned that lesson the hard way.
“His name is Leo. Leo Delaney. And he’s the father of Quinn’s baby.”
“Missing?”
“Something like that.” I tried to explain, “It’s complicated.”
“Everything is always complicated for you, Jonah.” Sabrina said over the phone and then let out a sign that I knew meant defeat, “Fine. I’ll find this Leo Delaney for you. I’ll call you in a few days to let you know where he is.”
“That’s great. Thank you, Sabrina. I really owe you one this time. Maybe I can repay you with a drink sometime–.” I was cut off by the dial tone. She’d already hung up.