Chapter 2
Quinn
It took me three tries to walk up the uneven steps. Another three to work up the courage to make it to the door. I stood there for another five minutes, staring at the chipped paint and peeling siding of the shitty apartment I and my brother had grown up in. I knew every crack.
The window was still busted out and boarded up from when one of the neighbor boys had thrown a rock through it four years ago. The boards were weather worn and grayed now. Probably let in a hell of a draft in the winter but spring was blooming in Coral Springs. Mild weather, a good bit of rain, but nothing the Moore’s couldn’t handle together. They’d handled worse.
Unbidden the memories came. Another spring day. It had been sunny then. That had always seemed wrong to me. Sunshine had blared through the windows of the trailer home. I couldn’t find them. I had looked everywhere but couldn’t find them. It was my birthday and mama had promised to take me shopping for a new dress to wear.
I remembered crying. Knowing something was wrong, even if I didn't know exactly what it was yet. Then Jonah had been there. Hugging me so tight I couldn’t breathe. He’d hugged me for so long but neither of us had let go. That was the day our good for nothing parents had split, leaving their ten-year-old daughter and seventeen-year-old son with nothing but bills to pay and the rent already three days late.
A week later they’d moved out of the trailer home and into this apartment. The only thing a seventeen-year-old with a part-time job could afford. It was a crumbling building with leaky pipes, a terrible draft and loony old landlady who lived in the upstairs apartment. But it was home.
“Are you going to stand out there all night, kiddo, or are you going to come in and tell me what the hell you’re doing back here and not at college where you’re supposed to be?”
Jonah's voice hit me through the broken window and I jumped. I took a deep breath, steeling myself before hitching my bag over my shoulder and walking in.
“What the hell,” I said softly, trying to pretend that I felt brave, even when everything inside me screamed to turn around and run away. Back to Leo. Back to his strong arms. I could just lose myself there and never have to face Jonah. Never have to worry about anything ever again.
For a moment, the vision of Leo filled my mind, warming me through, but it was just wishful thinking. And I had given up on wishes when I was ten years old. I knew they didn’t come true. Not in real life.
I trudged inside and tossed my bag on the kitchen counter. The apartment was little more than a one bedroom, but we had converted the small office into a bedroom for me. I’d outgrown it years ago, just like I’d outgrown this rural town. But here I was, back again. My tail between my legs.
“Hey, big brother,” I spotted Jonah, leaning against the opposite counter. He had a beer bottle clenched in his hand but it still looked full. “How did you know I was back?”
“Mrs. Sheldon at the bank saw you get off the bus.”
“Fucking busy body.” I sneered softly, “This place never changes.”
“It’s changed a lot in the past couple of years, Q. A lot more tourists coming through.”
“Well, then the people haven’t changed. Still nosy as ever.” I shook my head in disgust but a few minutes later a small smile broke Jonah’s stern expression and then we were both laughing. The tension broke as he gave me a hug but when he pulled back, that damned look was back on his face.
It was so familiar, that face. Not just the light green eyes, a trait we both shared. Or the sandy blond hair or the freckles that were splattered across his nose. It was that look. The same look that said, ‘you fucked up again, Quinn’. That look of disappointment that I’d known was coming but still hated to see staring down at me.
“Don’t start with me, Jonah.”
“I’m not starting anything, Quinn.” He huffed out on a frustrated sigh. Jonah swept his hands through his shaggy blond hair, shaking his head as if he didn’t know what to say but I already knew what was coming. It was a speech I’d heard a thousand times before.
“What the hell happened, Q? You were so excited to get out of this town. To get away and start a new life. To follow your dreams or whatever the fuck it was.”
“I told you, Jonah, I don’t want to talk about it!” I started but he cut me off with a slashing motion of his hand. The beer sloshed over the rim of the bottle but he didn’t notice.
“I don’t care! We’re talking about it! Now!”
I took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as I could but I could feel my temper rising, “There’s nothing to discuss.”
“You’re damn wrong about that, Quinn. What happened? I thought you wanted to be a manager or some shit!”
“Not a manager!” My temper was slipping but I didn’t care, “I want to run my own business! I want to be in charge for once. No one telling me what to do. My own decisions. My own choices. My own responsibility.”
“Responsibility!” Jonah scoffed, and the contempt in his voice hurt more than any of his words, “What the hell do you know about responsibility? You barely made it through high school. You dropped out of college, because…I don’t know why, but you obviously couldn’t handle it! You bailed, Quinn. That’s what you do when things get hard. You bail.”
“That’s not what happened, Jonah!” I was shouting. We both were.
“Then tell me what happened! Make me understand.”
“I just…I fucked up, okay? I fucked up and I can’t go back.”
“No, not okay!” Jonah shouted right back, pointing a finger in my direction but I refused to back down. “You don’t understand. You have no idea what I–.” He cut off abruptly, shaking his head and I could see real regret shining in his light green eyes. It cut deep, that look and I had to swallow before I could talk again.
“I know you’re disappointed, Jonah. But I’ll do better next time! I won’t make the same mistakes, I swear.”
‘Next time.” Jonah said, still shaking his head, “What makes you think there’ll be a next time? You’re right. You fucked up. But it’s bad this time, little sis. Real bad.”
“I know, but–.”
“No buts, Quinn. No more fucking excuses!” Jonah was shouting again and it had my temper spiking. He had no idea how hard it was. To be a stranger in a new place. All alone. No friends. No family. I had tried. I really had. But, things had just gotten out of control so fast.
Jonah was still yelling when the doorbell rang, cutting them both off. A tense silence filled the kitchen and then the doorbell rang again, and then once more.
“Is someone going to answer that damn door?” The muffled voice floated down from the vent in the ceiling followed by several thuds. Mrs. Peterson, the crazy landlady who lived upstairs, pounding away with her old broom.
“I got it, Lola!” Jonah yelled back, letting out a soft huff and a tossing a look in my direction that said we weren’t done with our previous conversation, if anyone could call our screaming match a conversation.
The bell rang again and Jonah walked forward, jerking the door open with a sudden snap.
“What?” The tone of his voice was enough to let anyone know that he wasn’t going to take any bullshit, and the man standing on the front step must have picked up on it because he took a hasty step back before stopping himself.
“Is this the, ah, the Moore residence?” He was wearing a suit, too nice for the neighborhood and I leaned around the corner to get a better look the newcomer. He looked mid-forties with a series expression behind his dark-framed glasses.
“Who’s asking?” Jonah’s words were brimming with suspicion and I took a few more steps forward.
“I’m looking for Jonah and Quinn Moore, children of Johnathan Moore and Rebecca Mayhew?”
“What is this about?” I asked, about to ask more but Jonah shot me a warning look before turning back to the stranger on the steps.
“What’s this about?” Jonah repeated my question, casting me another warning look but I knew better than to open my mouth again. A terrible feeling had settled in the pit of my stomach at the mention of our parent’s names. Anything to do with them was bad news.
“You are Jonah and Quinn Moore?” The suit asked again and we both nodded impatiently. He gave a sigh of relief. “Had a hell of a time tracking you down. I’m Trevor Hawkins. I’m your grandfather’s lawyer.”
“Grandfather?” I asked. The word slipping out in confusion. Mr. Hawkins nodded.
“Jacob Mayhew, your mother’s father. When he passed away seventeen years ago his property was willed to his daughter. There was a contingency in his will that automatically transfers the deed to the next oldest relation upon her passing.”
The lawyer’s words twisted and tumbled in my head but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t quite make sense of them.
“Wait, grandpa left property to mama?” I whispered, trying to understand but Jonah was already shaking his head. He swept a hand through his hair as the lawyer stood, waiting impatiently. “It transfers to the next oldest relation upon her passing? What does that mean?” I turned to Jonah, who was standing still, his green gaze staring unfocused.
“She’s…She’s dead?” I didn’t know what I expected to feel, but not this. This emptiness that suddenly filled me. The lawyer cringed, looking from Jonah to me and back again.
“I’m sorry. I thought you already knew. The accident was three months ago. Like I said, you were hard to track down.”
“We weren’t in contact with our parents,” Jonah said simply, still staring blankly.
“Three months?” I repeated dumbly, “What accident?”
The lawyer cringed again, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “There was a car accident. Your parents…Your mother was driving, they had taken a cocktail of drugs. She overdosed and crashed into a tree. Both of your parents were killed instantly.”
My gaze switched from the lawyer to Jonah and back again, that empty feeling growing like a black hole inside me.
“They didn’t suffer,” Hawkins said suddenly and I choked out a laugh.
“They didn’t suffer.” I whispered softly, “Well, good for them.”
The lawyer shrugged, shooting us another apologetic look, “I truly am sorry. I thought…I assumed that someone would have notified you of your parent’s deaths before now.”
“They haven’t been our parents for a very long time, Mr. Hawkins,” Jonah said, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so old or so tired. He was only eight years older than me but, in that moment, it might as well have been decades. “Thanks for letting us know.”
Jonah began to shut the door, but the lawyer stopped him.
“Wait!” He held out a large tan envelope, “The deed. It’s yours now. Everything’s already been signed over. It just needs a signature at the bottom to make it official.”
Jonah stared at the thing like it was a snake or some other poisonous animal but it was clear that Hawkins wasn’t going to leave without completing his mission.
Reluctantly, Jonah took the envelope before the lawyer finally turned and walked back down the front steps. We both stared at the thing for a long time, neither of us moving.