“You dick monster!” I said, the smile now racing across my own face as I smacked him—literally smacked the arm of a man who’d just been shot. “I cannot believe you just did that to me.”
“I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Well, you managed to do the impossible, because I’m smiling despite wanting to throttle you.”
“Come here.”
I bent down, kissing him for real this time, tears swirling in my eyes. “When you passed out… I thought…”
“I know what you thought, but you don’t have to worry about me, Jess. Doctor said I was a stud.”
“You are,” I agreed, struggling to control my emotions.
“Hey. I’m going to be okay.”
No, he wasn’t. Not when he heard the truth.
“How’s Noah?”
“He’s okay. Really worried about you. He’s being cared for by Casey’s nanny. And Miles and Noah are best buds now, so that helps.”
As I talked, I could see Quinn fading away in thought. “What happened, Jess? I know it’s bad. My dad is a horrible liar.”
My pulse quickened. I knew what he was asking, and I was in no position to deny him the truth. He needed to know.
“Is this my fault?” he asked.
“Yourfault? Why would it be your fault?”
“Did they target me because I’m a McKallister?”
“No. It had nothing to do with you.”
I related to him the story as I knew it: that the plan had been in motion well before Sketch Monsters had been asked to fill in for the other band.
“So, what are they keeping from me? Is it Tucker? Is he dead?”
“No, he’s going to be okay. Quinn…”
“Then what? I can see it in your eyes. Just tell me, Jess.”
Tears broke free, spilling down my cheeks. I wiped them away, but not fast enough to catch the ones that followed.
“Brandon.” I sobbed out his name.
“What about Brandon?”
“He’s gone.”
33
Quinn: Built-In Tragedy
Ihad to watch Brandon’s funeral on livestream—not by choice but because continued blood loss from the site of the bullet wound meant the surgeons had to go back in and ligate the leaking veins. All that meant to me was that I couldn’t be there to see my buddy—my bandmate, my brother—be laid to rest. There had been no closure, and without it, I couldn’t seem to move on.
I tried. I pretended. I convalesced with Jess and Noah by my side. Jess nursed my wound and kept my spirits up as best she could, despite struggling with her own frightening memories of the night as well as the continued fallout from the allegations Nick had made. Taken on their own, the rumors would have died off quickly enough, but the shooting thrust us all into the spotlight, where rumors and conspiracy theories thrived. And now my beautiful, resourceful girlfriend had a stain on her name that couldn’t easily be erased.
I wanted to be her rock—I tried—but I couldn’t because everything was off.
