“Go back to sleep,” I tell him and follow Logan down the stairs. I take my donuts outside, sitting on the patio with Logan while we eat. It’s a chilly fall morning, warning us that winter is right around the corner. Hell, the weather could turn midday and we could wake up to snow in the morning. That’s the weather in the Midwest for you.
After Logan leaves, I shower, get dressed, and find something to eat again. I sit in the living room, turning on the TV and call Archer, getting his voicemail. He’s either in surgery or sleeping.
I think.
“Are there any donuts left?” Owen asks, slowly coming down the stairs.
“I’m surprised you remember going to get donuts.”
“I always remember donuts.” He brings the box from the kitchen and sits on the couch next to me, taking the remote.
“I’m watching this,” I tell him.
“This show is shit.”
I grab the remote from his hands. “You woke me up. Now you have to watch musicals with me.”
“Fine,” he grumbles and bites into a donut. “What’s new with you?”
“Nothing yet. Still trying to figure things out.”
“Stop trying and just go with it.”
I give him a skeptical look. “Is that what you do?”
“It’s worked out for me so far. Overthinking never leads to anything good.”
“You’re right on that. Overthinking leads to second-guessing.”
“Exactly,” he says with his mouth full.
I put my feet up on the coffee table, yawning again. “Thanks, O.”
“Of course, Q. I’m full of brotherly advice.”
I roll my eyes. “Too bad it’s not all good advice.”
“Hey.” Owen elbows me. “Better me than Weany-Deany.”
I laugh. “I haven’t heard you call him that in years.”
“He deserves the nickname after the way he freaked out about you and Archer.”
“True. He’s coming around now.”
Owen shakes his head. “He’s fucking ridiculous. Can you get me water?”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Fine,” I say and take the last chocolate donut on my way to the kitchen. I fill two glasses with water and go back to the living room, watching the rest of the movie and talking to Owen. Then he goes upstairs to crash in one of the guest rooms, and I go out to lunch with Mom and Dad.
I still haven’t heard from Archer, and I’m getting worried. I call his cell again and this time it goes straight to voicemail. Half an hour goes by, and the worry gets worse
I want to tell him I don’t want him to go to Boston. I need to say my piece and I know Weston is right. I need to be honest and have the best communication as I can. That’s why there’ll be no regrets. I’ll be careful not to tell him what to do but will express my own feelings on the topic. But mostly, I need to make sure Archer is okay.
I have Sam’s number, and I pull it up. Archer wanted me to have it in case I needed to get ahold of him while visiting in Indy. After Bobby threw the door open at me, Archer’s been a little overprotective while I stayed with him.
Sam answers after two rings. “Hello?”
“Hey, Sam. It’s Quinn.”
“Oh, hey. Is everything okay?”
“I think so but wanted to check on Archer. I can’t get ahold of him and I know he’s been working a lot. Is he around?”
A few seconds of silence tick by. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“He’s in Boston.”
29
Archer
I sink into the driver’s seat, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before starting the car. I just got home from Boston, and I have a headache. Both from lack of sleep and from everything going on. But after talking with my mother, I knew what I had to do. You make sacrifices for your children, and in the end, they’re worth it.
I have two missed calls from Quinn, and it’s been killing me not to call her back. I wanted to wait until I was in the car though, so she wouldn’t hear the sounds of the airport. Leaving the parking garage, I call her, and she answers after the first ring.
“Hey, babe,” I say. “Sorry I missed your calls. I was in back-to-back surgeries.”
“You’re at work?” she asks, voice flat.
“Yeah. But I’m out now.”
“Sure.”
“Are you still in Eastwood?”
“Yep. That was my plan. Stay here this weekend.”
“I can meet you there.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” she snaps.
“Yeah. Quinn…” I exhale heavily. “We need to talk, okay?”
“We do.”
“I’ll be there in a few hours. Are you at your parents’ house?”
“Where else would I be?” she asks, voice tight.
“See you soon. I love you,” I tell her, but she doesn’t say it back. She just hangs up. Swallowing hard, I put my phone in the cupholder and think about everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. I know I made the right choice.
Will Quinn think I did too?
I hope and pray I don’t run into traffic, but I make it just a few miles from the airport and come to a standstill. It’s Saturday afternoon and along with regular traffic, there’s an accident closing down several lanes. I tap the steering wheel, feeling more and more anxious as time ticks by.
Everything I’m doing is to benefit our family in the long run, and I still have faith it’ll all work out. I think of the life I had at home before Bobby started using. Our father worked hard to provide for us, and we had a damn good life. Which makes my anger at Bobby even stronger. We had a good thing going and he threw it all away.
I don’t know how I feel about him moving to Eastwood and spreading his shit in the quiet, safe town Quinn still calls home. My mother has a point about taking Bobby away from the group of friends who are nothing more than enablers, but is moving away enough?
Traffic starts moving again, and my heart speeds up knowing I’m getting closer and closer to Quinn.
Quinn’s Porsche is the driveway, and the dogs start barking as soon as my Jeep bumps into view. I put it in park and rush out, going in through the garage the way Quinn always does. The dogs are in the backyard, barking at the door, and I find Quinn out there with them.
“Hey,” I say, stepping onto the patio. She’s on the glider, with a blanket draped around her shoulders. Her eyes are a little red, looking like she was either crying or is really tired. Given the fact that she’s been here all day, I’m leaning more toward crying, which worries me.
“Hi,” she says, giving me a feeble smile. “How was work?”
“Busy.” I sit on the glider next to her. I put my arm around her, heart swelling in my chest. Fuck, I missed her. Quinn rests her head on my shoulder. A cold wind blows, rattling the remaining dried corn in the field. “Want to go inside? It
’s cold out here.”
“Sure.” She wipes at her eyes, holding the blanket tightly around herself and follows me. The house is quiet.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
“They’re getting a drink at Getaway. Even Jackson. Nothing alcoholic, of course. And the bar isn’t even open yet.”
“Did they know I was coming?”
“Yeah. They wanted to give us space.”
“That was nice of them.” I sit on the living room couch. Quinn takes a spot next to me, keeping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“It was.” She looks away. “And speaking of space…are you going to tell me you need space?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then why did you go to Boston without telling me?”
Shit. “How did you know?”
“I was worried about you and called Sam. Why did you lie?”
My brows pinch together. “I wanted to do it as a surprise.”
“Do what?”
“Turn down the fellowship. Since I’d already accepted, I wanted to formally rescind my spot without burning bridges.”
Quinn sucks in a breath. “You turned it down?”
“Yeah.”
The blanket falls off her shoulders. “Why? I thought you wanted to be a trauma surgeon.”
“There’s something else I want more. You.”
“But I could have come with you.”
“I know. You wouldn’t like living there basically on your own, and it’s not what I want either.”
“Tell me very clearly what you do want.”
“This.” I sweep my hand out at the living room. “A house in the country surrounded by family. Nothing is more important to me than you and Emma. I want to raise her together.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring. “Positive enough to give this to you.”
Quinn’s eyes widen and her lips part. “Just give it to me? Not ask anything along with it?”