Chapter 3
Quinn
“Are you going to open it or not?” I asked for the tenth time in the past half hour. I’d been sitting across from Jonah at the small kitchen table, the envelope unopened between us. Still, no answer from my big brother. We hadn’t spoken about the other bombshell the lawyer had dropped on us yet either. But it sat there, heavy and waiting. An explosion that I knew was coming even if I didn’t know when.
“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.