I shrug. “I should. It would be the responsible thing—to make sure you three learned your lesson.”
Sawyer snorts in the back seat next to Allie. “That’ll be the day.”
I huff an aggravated breath. “I can’t believe you brought them out here,” I say, turning my glare to Quinn.
“I just thought—“
“No, you didn’t think. If the cops had shown up, it could’ve ruined your chances of getting into the college you want. You realize that, don't you? The whole future you've worked for could have gone up in smoke.”
She drops her eyes to her lap, red creeping into her cheeks. She doesn’t answer me, but I see a lone tear glistening on her cheek.
God damn it. I’m on a fucking roll tonight. If I can get Sawyer to cry, I’d have the fucking hat trick.
I glance in my rear view mirror. “I’m taking you two back home first,” I say.
I get a mumbled “fine” from Allie and a sharp “whatever” from Sawyer.
Once the other two are back home, I pull up to Dawson Ranch and kill the engine. Quinn reaches for the door handle, but I wrap my fingers gently around her wrist. She stills, gaze fixed on the white farmhouse with its black shutters, a shadow painted against the summer night.
“When you’re in my truck, I get the door.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows, and I walk around the truck to get her door.
When she climbs out, I steady her with a hand at her hip, ignoring the way her denim skirt hikes a little higher on her thighs.
Her eyes flick toward the empty spot where her car should be. “Shit, I forgot about my car.”
“Don’t worry about it, Quinnie. I’ll grab a friend and we’ll get it back here before Pops is up in the morning. Just give me your keys.”
She digs them out of her purse and slides them into my hand, our fingers brushing.
When I slide them into my pocket, her shoulders sag, relief and shame written all over her. Another tear slips free. “Thanks for saving me tonight.”
I arch a brow. “Sawyer didn’t seem to think you needed saving.”
She leans against the truck, swiping at a stray tear. I want to wipe those tears for her, but I shouldn’t.
“Hey,” I murmur, softer now. “Don’t cry, Quinnie. I’m sorry if I came down on you too hard earlier.”
She sniffles, and it pulls at my heartstrings, urging me closer to her.
“You were right, though,” she admits. “I could’ve ruined everything. I shouldn’t have let them talk me into it. It was stupid.”
Her face crumples, and I can’t take it anymore. She’s always so hard on herself. I palm the back of her neck and crush her to my chest, burying my nose in her hair.
She smells like bonfire smoke, stale beer, and—underneath it all—the faint floral scent of her shampoo.
“Everybody fucks up sometimes. It’s alright.”
She melts into me. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, voice muffled in my shirt. “For ruining your night.”
“Hey, stop.” I press a kiss to the top of her head before I can think better of it. “I’ve got plenty of nights ahead. I just can’t take the sight of you crying anymore.”
She swipes at her face with the back of her hand. “You didn’t seem that upset about making Allie cry.”
“That’s different.” A smile pulls at my mouth. “She’s my sister. I’ve been making her cry her whole life.”
I can still hear the tears in Quinn's responding laugh, and I hold her tighter for a fleeting moment before letting her go. Cold replaces herwarmth immediately, and I try not to wish I could keep her in my arms longer.
