“Okay.”
“Look, he probably knows you’re in town too. You’re going to run into him sooner or later. He’s…” She stopped and gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment. “He’s not doing well, Quinn. He’s different.”
Even though he knew it would sound a bit glib, Quinn said, “Aren’t we all?”
Instead of getting mad, she huffed and chuckled.
In the backseat, Benny grunted in confusion.
“Forty-five minutes,” Quinn said.
“What?”
“You’ll make it back to work within forty-five minutes.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.” She smiled at him, reached over, and took his hand.
That’s how they drove to Benny’s place, and Quinn’s heart felt slightly better. For now.
Chapter 6
The knock on the door jolted Aaron awake, and he blinked into the darkness. It took him a moment to realize where he was. He’d crashed out on the couch in the den, because he’d been too sore after tearing most of the wallpaper down—and too drunk once he rewarded himself when he was done—to climb the stairs to his bedroom. He’d even been too drunk to take his prosthetic off, not that he was complaining about that now, since he couldn’t remember where he’d left his crutches.
He hauled himself to his feet, and limped awkwardly to the door.
What the hell time was it? It was dark, and that was all he knew. Maybe Uncle Will was finishing his shift and had taken pity on him and was bringing him dinner. Or maybe it was Charlie, or Brody. Hell, that was three more people than would knock on his door back in Phoenix. Aaron didn’t know if that was a good thing, or if he really did just want to be left alone.
Whoever it was knocked on the door again.
“I’m coming!” Aaron called. “Hold your fucking horses!”
He grimaced as pain shot through his leg, and wrenched the door open.
Jesus.
It was Quinn MacGregor.
Aaron’s jaw dropped, and he stared.
Quinn glared back, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, and was hunched over like he was trying to disappear. At the same time he was bristling, like he was fueled by a low-burning anger, just the same as he’d been so many times when they were kids. Aaron could see it in his clenched jaw, and in the lines on his forehead, and in his dark, penetrating stare.
And fuck him, because Aaron was still a little bit drunk, but already working his way towards a hangover, and Quinn MacGregor was the last person he wanted to see. Well, unless he was in the mood for a fight, he guessed. Aaron might not have known how to fight the first time he’d challenged Quinn, but he’d sure as shit learned a thing or two in the past decade.
He drew a breath and tried to keep his voice steady. “We have nothing to say to one another.”
“Wait!” Quinn pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them up as though he was expecting Aaron to slam the door in his face. His expression shifted for a second, and that sudden flash of vulnerability underneath his anger went straight through Aaron’s defenses like it always had. “I have a kid. Me and…me and Charlie, we have a kid.”
Aaron felt a jolt of shock, followed by the sting of betrayal. Not because he gave a fuck about Quinn MacGregor, but because of Charlie. She was his best friend, and she had a kid now? WithQuinn? No, actually, that part hurt more than he wanted to admit.
“Sounds like none of my fucking business,” he said, his grip tightening on the door as he prepared to shut it.
“I—” Quinn clenched his jaw tight before he spoke again. “I just found out. Today.”
“What do you want, Quinn?” The words didn’t sound as angry as Aaron had intended. They sounded tired. “What the fuck do you want me to say to that?”
“I want…” Quinn’s mouth twisted and his eyes blazed in the bright moonlight. “I want you to make it make sense, Aaron! That’s what you always did! You made it all make sense!”
Aaron thought back to the night down by the creek, when he’d pushed Quinn up against a tree and held him while he raged. He thought of how he’d carded his fingers through the waves of Quinn’s long hair. And now he just stared at Quinn stupidly, and said, “You cut your hair.”
