A flicker of emotion crosses Quinn’s features before they go back to the impassive mask. “Actually, I don’t.”
Wes’ eyes go wide. “What?”
“I quit my job,” she says with a shrug, running her fingers through her hair and pulling it up into a clip absentmindedly. “It’s a long story thatI don’t want to get into right now, but I’m currently unemployed and available to help with Pops full time.”
“Quinn, that’s a lot. Are you sure?” Sawyer asks.
“It’s the least I can do, and honestly, I could use a change of scenery for a bit.”
She looks sad when she says it—or maybe just weary. I can’t quite read her like I used to. I’m out of practice.
Wes shoots her a questioning look, but Quinn just shakes her head at him. And now I’m even more curious about what she’s not telling us.
Quinn’s always had a good head on her shoulders—the voice of reason keeping Sawyer and Allie out of trouble every summer. She’s always been focused on her career, which makes it hard to imagine her walking away from it without a reason. Something’s off, but for now, I’m just excited she’s here, even though I don’t know the whole story yet.
“Great. Now that that’s been decided, he’ll also be on a strict diet.” She passes us all a piece of paper with a list a mile long of foods he shouldn’t be eating.
“Jesus Christ,” Wes mumbles.
“I’m making sure everyone in town knows they can’t be letting him eat any of this stuff.”
“Maybe you could just print off some flyers and put them up all over town to save some time,” I quip, slipping the paper into my back pocket.
Quinn glares at me. “You can joke all you want, but Pops didn’t take any of this seriously last time, and I’m not letting him get away with killing himself because he can’t be bothered to follow a few rules.”
My lips twitch. It’s nice to see Quinn’s love of rules hasn’t changed.
“You don’t need flyers,” Wes says. “Just tell Mrs. Mackey and Linda Andreasen. I’m sure they’ll spread the word through town.”
He presses a kiss to the top of Sawyer’s head before leading the way back outside where there’s work still waiting for us.
Once we’re out of earshot, I ask, “Do you think it’s weird that Quinn just up and quit her job?”
He shrugs. “Maybe a little weird, but I don’t think you need to worry about Quinn.” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.”
Quinn could take care of herself. That didn’t mean I wasn’t curious, though. I knew there was more to it than she was letting on. I knew there was a story. And I was dying to hear it.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it's getting Quinn to tell me exactly what's on her mind.
Pinky Promise
Quinn
Twenty-five Years Ago
Hot tears streak down my cheeks as I run from the playground and straight into Tripp. There’s dirt on his jeans and a tiny bit of ketchup dried at the corner of his mouth from the hot dogs we ate at lunch.
“Watch out, Quinnie,” he says. It only makes the tears flow harder and his forehead wrinkles in concern. “What happened?”
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “N-n-nothing. Do y-you know w-where Wes is?” I somehow get words out between the sobs.
Wes was given instructions to mind me while Pops and Grams were working to clean things up from lunch, but he ran off with Tripp the first chance he got, leaving me with some other girls my age.
He probably thought we’d play together, but as hard as I tried, Tish kept telling me I wasn’t playing the game right, even though I was following the rules. I’d finally given up and run off intears. She was never very nice when we played together.
