Quin closed his eyes and fought the tsunami of fury brewing inside him.It should have been him that day on the boom lift.
I’ll find out who killed you, my friend.And I’ll finish him.
***
For heaven’s sake.There was no way she’d just invited Quin to stay at her house.Actually, she’d practically insisted.She pulled the covers up to her chin and squeezed her eyes shut for the dozenth time.Every time she got close to drifting off, Quin’s presence jerked her awake.Seeing his face had been like leaping back through time—to a place where having him crash because they’d shared too many drinks by the fire, or a snowstorm had rolled in, had been a natural occurrence.But that’s when Liam had been here.
Liam.
Sadness pooled in her heart.She brought her hand to her chest and massaged the ache that brought instant tears to her eyes.Quin was wrong.He had to be.No one would kill Liam.He’d been loved by everyone.Unlike Quin, Liam had been born and raised in Whistlemore.Just as she had.Things like murder didn’t happen in their sleepy mountain community.
One memory circled through her mind, as it had a thousand times since Liam died.It was the last time she’d heard Liam’s voice, that familiar rumbling sound.
Hey, babe.I need to talk to you about something—I need your intuition.The gruff laugh had been shadowed with something that made her stiffen.Something’s not right with the business.Can you skip your circle tonight?I really need your help.I’ll pick up dinner.
That voicemail had been troubling for a couple of reasons.First, he’d never, ever asked her to skip circle.Second, his laughter had been strained.Had he known something wasn’t right?He’d left the message at 8:13 a.m.She’d been busy all day and hadn’t checked her messages until that afternoon—half an hour before Quin stormed up their steps to tell her about the boom lift accident.
She sat up.Tomorrow she’d tell Quin and let him hear the voicemail she’d saved.Tonight, she needed to sleep.She threaded her hands through her hair.The gentle slam of the kitchen cupboard closing reached her ears, followed by the gush of running water.
Quin was making himself at home, which made her feel like a poor host.No, she wasn’t hosting him.She was letting him stay so he didn’t get himself in trouble.Darn it, she hadn’t set up his bed.With a sigh she opened the bedroom door and crossed the living room to the kitchen.
Quin leaned against the kitchen counter, a glass at his lips.Seeing her, he lowered it and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.She propped her hands on her hips.“I forgot to get you the spare pillow and blanket—”
He held out his free hand.“I can find my way around.Go to bed.”
She tapped her foot against the carpet.God, he unnerved her.
His mouth moved into a tentative grin.The same lazy smile that had always made her insides quiver.It was just Quin, who often acted about ten years old.But now.Now that grin made her belly dance.
She swallowed but her throat restricted the movement.What kind of woman was even slightly attracted to her deceased boyfriend’sbest friend?Not to mention just shy of a year from his death.If she didn’t pay serious karma for this, Liam would shun her in the afterlife.
She brought her hand to her forehead and massaged the skin there.“Uh, yeah.I guess you can.Blankets are in the trunk and a pillow should be there or in the pullout.”
Quin stepped toward her, and his firm grip on her elbow made her lift her head.“What is it?”His tone was as heavy as cement.She’d forgotten how well he knew her.
“You’re wrong, Quin.No one killed Liam.”She let out an exasperated laugh, not pulling her arm out of his overheated palm.“Look where we live, for god’s sake.”She gestured to the small kitchen window that overlooked the backyard.
Quin moved his hands so they rested on her shoulders.“Jos.I’m not wrong about this.And I’m really fucking sorry that I’m right.”
Part of her wanted to push him away.Her mind returned to the day after Liam’s death.She’d been so focused on holding Liam’s mom together that she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything.She’d stumbled down the steps of his childhood home after fighting a dizzy spell and Quin had been there to catch her.
He’d gotten her food, forced her to drink water, and taken her home.For the next four months he’d been by her house almost every day—as if he’d feared for her welfare.He’d bought her groceries, fixed the railing outside, chopped her wood, shoveled her steps and walkway...Without him, she might not have made it.
Grief overtook her, and she lowered her forehead to Quin’s sternum.His hands fell away from her shoulders, and the heat from his palms hovered at her sides.His body remained stiff, and then he cupped the back of her head.She inhaled deeply and the smell of spice and earth filled her nostrils.So manly, and not in the least bit similar to Liam’s scent.Quin inched his body closer, so their middles touched.His free arm folded loosely around her back, keeping her melded to his heat but in nothing more than a platonic hold.
“There’s something else,” Josie said.
The rise and fall of his chest stilled.He didn’t say a word, but the tension emanating from his body urged her on.
“It’s probably nothing.”She shook her head.Itwasnothing.Yes, the last voicemail Liam left her had been cryptic, but considering the way he’d died it didn’t make sense that there could have been foul play.Accidents happened in logging all the time.
“If it’s nothing, that’s okay.But I feel like you want to tell me anyway.”
She bit into her bottom lip.“Liam left me a voicemail the morning he died.I never—” She swallowed.“I never gave it a second thought until now.”
Quin’s shallow breaths puffed on her forehead.“What’d he say?”
“That he needed to talk...he asked me to miss circle, and he’d never done that before.”
