Thankfully, Wes—completely oblivious to the tension—changes the subject.
“Have you started the job hunt yet, Quinn?”
She pokes at the food on her plate with a fork, shifting in her seat. “Not yet. Pops just got home. He’ll need some help for a while.”
“Oh, poppycock,” Pops huffs. “I’ll be back to full speed in no time.”
“Pops,” she says gently. “We’re doing this the right way and following the doctor’s orders.”
“You’re okay with taking that long of a break?” Wes asks.
It’s the same thing I’ve been wondering. Quinn’s never been one to slow down—not even when she’s running on fumes. She’s always burned the candle at both ends and still found a way to light a match.
“Hell, I’m not going to need you here all damn day,” Pops grumbles. “I’m sure Dr. Dillard could use an extra hand at the clinic. He’s getting older, you know.”
Quinn gives him a soft smile. “Trying to get me out of the house already, Pops?”
“Oh, pah! Like I could.”
“That’s right. You’re stuck with me now,” Quinn says with a grin, gaze flicking back to mine.
That statement hits hard, landing with a thump right in my chest. It has me feeling some type of way I can’t quite articulate. Because the truth is, I don’t mind being stuck with her.
Not one damn bit.
She looks away, her expression shifting. Her smile stays, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
And for a moment, I wonder what she’s thinking about.
Or who.
Stuck with Me
Quinn
Sixteen Years Ago
Sand sifts between my toes as I run back up the beach, arm and arm with Allie, giggling and stumbling as we almost wipe out. Water laps gently against the lake’s shore, reflecting the sun in its rippling surface.
I scan the beach, trying not to make it obvious who I’m looking for.
I find him sitting on a rock with Megan, who’s laughing at something he just said—boobs practically spilling out of her bikini top.
I glance down at my chest, much smaller and fully covered, and try not to feel completely inadequate.
It’s not jealousy that twists in my chest when I see Tripp and Megan together.
That would be stupid.
Tripp and Wes have both graduated. Wes is heading off to college this fall, while Tripp’s thinking about joining the professional rodeo circuit instead of working with his dad at their ranch. He’s eighteen. An adult. And I’m just a sixteen-year-old girl who can’t stop looking at him with hearts in my eyes.
Sawyer and Allie talked the boys into letting us tag along to the lake—even though it was supposed to be a double date with Megan and Cheyenne. I think they threatened to tell Tripp’s parents what they saw him and Megan doing in the cab of his truck the other night.
I try not to think too hard about that part.
Sawyer applies yet another layer of sunscreen while I stretch out on my beach towel next to Allie, eyes closed, letting the summer heat seep into my skin.
But soon enough the sound of laughter draws my attention back to Tripp.
