“You’re not a dad,” Aaron said, his voice hardening at the word. “You’re a sperm donor. When did you get back into town?”
“Two days ago.” Quinn huffed out a breath. “This kid isnine, Aaron. He’s like his own little person, and I never even suspected he existed. I can’t even wrap my head around it.”
“There’s a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen,” Aaron said.
Quinn shrugged. “I don’t drink.”
Aaron let out a burst of laughter. “Sincewhen?”
Quinn held his gaze. “Since I got out of rehab a couple of weeks ago.”
“Jesus.” Aaron searched his face again, reading something new into every line.
“What? You’re surprised?”
Aaron raised his eyebrows. “I’m not surprised at a MacGregor with a drug habit, no. I guess I’m surprised about the rehab part though. That doesn’t seem like your style.”
“It wasn’t by choice,” Quinn said. “But it’s done now, and it was fucked up, and I hated every minute of it enough not to waste it by backsliding, you know?”
“Nope.” Aaron pushed himself to his feet.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the fucking whiskey.” Aaron tried to walk naturally as he went into the kitchen to fetch the bottle, but he knew his gait was too stiff to hide. He grabbed the whiskey off the counter and brought the bottle back into the den. He sat down on the couch again, ignoring the pain shooting up the remains of his leg as he untwisted the cap on the whiskey bottle and took a swig. “So what are you doing back in Spruce Creek?”
“Family business,” Quinn said, his tone suddenly flat.
“Oh yeah? You’re suddenly not so chatty, huh?” Aaron took another swig of whiskey. “And here I thought we were catching up like old friends.”
He couldn’t read Quinn’s expression as Quinn leaned down and set the mug on the floor, dropping the butt of the cigarette into it. Smoke curled up. “We were never friends though, were we, Aaron?”
“Fuck buddies, then.”
Quinn studied him for a moment. “That’s really what you think we were?”
Aaron felt hot anger uncurl in his gut. “Whatever wewere, asshole, was ruined the night your father shot mine in the back of the head and left him to die on the side of the road like he was less than ananimal.”
He expected Quinn to say it wasn’t his fault. He expected him to defend himself, to remind Aaron that, despite all evidence to the contrary, he wasn’t like his father or the rest of the MacGregors. But instead, Quinn only held his gaze and said, in a voice softer than Aaron could handle right now, “How much are you drinking these days, Aaron?”
It was just what Aaron needed to fuel his anger. “Oh,fuck you. You think you can come here, intothishouse, and pretend that you give a fuck? You’re here for you, asshole, not for me, and you can keep all your post-rehab concern bullshit to yourself, because remember that Iknowyou. I know you, and your family, and I know exactly what you are.”
“What am I?” Quinn asked, lifting his chin.
“You’re the reason my dad is dead,” Aaron said. “You, and your father, and your uncle, and every piece-of-shit MacGregor in the entire county. You’re all fuckingscum.”
There was something hard in Quinn’s eyes, despite the way a lazy grin spread across his face. “Yeah? Never said I wasn’t. And if you thought it, that was on you, wasn’t it? Not me. But you used to like slumming it, didn’t you? Sheriff Larsen’s little golden boy with your perfect grades and your spot on the baseball team. You used to love getting your dick sucked by this piece-of-shit MacGregor, didn’t you? You couldn’t get enough.” He leaned in close, and his breath smelled like cigarettes. “You used to love sucking my dick as well.”
It hadn’t been like that, not at all, but it was easier to pretend it had been. So much easier to talk about dicks than about hearts. Because Aaron had loved Quinn, and Quinn had whispered the words back to him enough that summer that he’d believed them. Back then it had been a secret they’d kept from everyone else, and now it was a secret they kept from themselves. It was easier to pretend it had been something dirty, instead of something precious, because that way the loss of it didn’t sting as badly.
But just like that, Aaron was tired of pretending. He did it with everyone else. He didn’t have the energy to do it with Quinn as well. So instead of letting Quinn’s tirade spark another burst of anger, he took a swig of whiskey instead, and enjoyed a different burn. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and said, “My mom died.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “Shit.”
“Cancer,” Aaron said. “She got the diagnosis when I was in Afghanistan. She didn’t pass away until I was home though.” He flashed Quinn a bitter smile. “Everyone says I was lucky she held on that long. Doesn’t feel very lucky.”
Quinn looked away, as though Aaron had revealed something in his expression that he couldn’t bear to look at. He looked at the wall instead. “You doing the place up? You moving back?”
“Hell, no,” Aaron said, huffing out a breath. “I’d rather burn the place to the ground than move back. I’m selling it, though the housing market in Spruce Creek is worth shit. Gives me something to do for a while.”
