CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Burn the Witch”

Evan

Quinn believes that everything happens for a reason, that by giving good, you will get good back. I grew up believing that good or bad, shit just happened. You deal with it and move on. But then I met Quinn, and in a matter of eight months, everything changed. I was no longer an emotionally crippled man picking my way through this thing called life. I was living it. Feeling it. Loving every second of it. I wasn’t necessarily wrong in my beliefs. Shit did happen. Both Mandy’s betrayal and the bar burning down were beyond shitty, but sometimes, out of the awful...comes something good. Quinn was my good.

A few weeks after the fire, I received a phone call from my lawyer. Mandy, apparently, wanted to speak to me. At first, my answer was no, but then he explained how she’d been hospitalized after showing signs of instability and that the doctor evaluating her felt it would be a good thing for us to talk. He assured me that she was still being held accountable for her actions and would most-likely spend time in either jail or a facility of sorts. I would be lying if I said I didn’t care. I’d spent nine years of my life, even more if I counted high school, with her. That it had come to this, was just...sad.

After several talks with Quinn, I changed my mind. I wanted to know why. No, I deserved to know why.

A few days later, my phone rang. It was Mandy’s doctor. She explained that, due to the medication, Mandy may not sound like herself. This caught me off guard. What medication? When I questioned it, she said that she would let Mandy explain.

She handed the phone to Mandy, and in a stilted, wooden, very clinical sounding voice, Mandy said, “Hello, Evan. I appreciate you talking to me.” What the hell? I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there in silence, waiting for her to explain herself. Talk about awkward. Finally, she started talking. She told me she’d been diagnosed with something called Athazagoraphobia, or a fear of being alone. Without me asking, she went on to explain how everyone she’d ever loved had left her. I let her babble for a few more minutes before cutting to the chase. I wanted to know about the fake pregnancy, the fake wedding, and all of the lies. I wanted to know why. Her answer— It was all because of this so-called affliction.

I was skeptical to say the least, but I also knew that something had to be seriously wrong with her. One doesn’t go out and collect husbands for the hell of it. But then, she asked if I would vouch for her in a court of law. As in, wanted me to testify on her behalf. Was she nuts? And that’s when I got it. She really was mental. She found some poor doctor and conned her into buying into her bullshit lies. Mandy was sick alright, but it wasn’t Athazawhatsitcalled. It was something much worse. The saddest part of the whole thing was her surprise when I told her no.

As I sat in the upstairs living area listening to her drone on about her newly discovered ailment, I made peace with the fact that I would probably never know why. I decided that I was okay with this. In fact, I was better than okay. I was finally free.

That afternoon, I drove to the phone store and did something I’d been needing to do for months; I changed my number.

Four days later, Quinn got the call we’d been waiting for. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what we wanted to hear. According to the detective who’d been investigating the fire at Margo’s, neither Baxter Keen nor Amanda James could have been responsible. Amanda wasn’t even in Houston that night and Baxter had been with his brother. They were still conducting an arson investigation, but had officially ruled out our only suspects.

At the beginning of September, as promised, Quinn’s mother came to visit. I could tell she wasn’t crazy about my tattoos, but that didn’t matter because she was crazy about me. Even more so, she was crazy about me with her daughter. We spent the better part of a week planting fall flowers around the house. Or I should say, Quinn and her mother did. I helped, but mostly I worked on the song that had been brewing in my head.

While Quinn’s mom was in town, Madden Daze called. One of his buddies was selling his sound system and he wanted to know if I was interested in purchasing it. The next morning, I jumped in the car and drove three hours to take a look. It was exactly what I wanted.

Much to my surprise, Madden showed up later that week with the delivery truck. While Quinn helped me with the logistics, her mother showed Madden around the house. That night, he stayed for dinner and we saw him every day after until Quinn’s mother returned to Florida.

A little over a month after the fire, my house sold. Even though Quinn and I were already living together, we decided to make it official. We did this by moving my favorite leather sofa and chairs— the ones Mandy hated—my sixty-inch TV, and my two gaming systems into our upstairs living area. After properly christening them, I whooped her ass in Call of Duty three times. Let’s just say that Country did not like to lose.

Mallory finally gave birth to a baby girl. They named her Avery Elizabeth Hardy. Grant conferenced us all in so we could see her. We were on for a total of five minutes before Chaz called her a bald alien and Grant hung up on us. Avery had been alive for less than a day and Grant was already neurotic.

One afternoon, Quinn came busting into the studio. By the look on her face I could tell she was upset.

“You’re not going to believe this. Sam got another job! Not only that, but Alex-Ann wants to go back to school and Gretchen’s thinking about taking a job at The Pole in the Wall.” The Pole in the Wall was a strip joint located about a mile past Margo’s.

“The Pole in the Wall, really?” I asked, thinking that she could do better than that. Then I remembered who we were talking about.

Leaning forward, Quinn hissed, “Will’s been working there since last month.” I got that she was upset. I even understood why.

“Babe, they have to work.”

“They already have a job,” she snapped back at me.

“Come here.” Shoulders hunched, she shuffled in my direction. When she got within touching distance, I pulled her onto my lap. “Margo’s could take six months to a year to rebuild. With the arson investigation, it’s likely to be longer. You can’t expect them to wait.”

She slumped in my arms, and with tears in her voice, said, “I know, but Margo’s won’t be the same without them.”

“So don’t rebuild.”

Her chin shot up, her troubled gray eyes landing on me. “If I don’t have Margo’s, what will I do?”

“Go on tour with me.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d even considered them, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. “Seriously. First, help me fix up the studio here. We’re supposed to start laying down tracks at Grant’s in December. You’ll meet everyone at Nash and Rowan’s wedding next month. After that, come on tour with us. The girls will all be there. Olivia already loves you. Knowing her, she’ll con you into working for her. Trust me, it will be a blast.” I could tell she was considering it. “Come on, baby. Say yes,” I urged.

Instead of giving a yes or a no, she asked, “Will Tut be there?” At the surprised look on my face, she burst into laughter. Then she kissed me. Then she flung her arms into the air and shouted, “I’m going on tour with Meltdown!”

God, I fucking love this woman.