“Like a real ghost?” Quinn asked, raising a brow. “Or are we speaking metaphorically here?”
“That’s a good question. He makes himself scarce nowadays, but I’m told he lives.”
“Well, that’s good.”
I took another glance at my inked heart, and suddenly my own beating one hardened. “I suppose.”
He stared, no doubt assigning meaning to my words. “I’m sensing it didn’t end well?”
“Does high school love ever end well?”
“My brother’s been in love with the girl he met in high school pretty much his whole life. They’re married now. Expecting a baby. So, it happens. Sometimes.”
I chewed on that fact for longer than seemed necessary before replying. “How nice for them.”
“Yes, I can see how happy you are for their union.” Quinn laughed before shifting gears. “I’m guessing you still love NL.”
He guessed wrong. I didn’t love Nick anymore—not at all. “No. Quite the opposite. NL made sure there was nothing left of us to love. He turned on me, Quinn. Actually, they all did. My friends—they handed me over to the police. Told them I had been the mastermind, when in reality, I hadn’t even known about the plan until the morning of. At the time, I thought I was protecting NL, so I took the fall for all of them. When I returned to school a few weeks later, I was a pariah, a laughingstock. Everyone turned against me, including”—I pointed to his initials—“NL.”
Anger flashed across Quinn’s face—for me. “What a piece of shit.”
“I didn’t show you this because I wanted sympathy. I showed you this because, despite everything that happened in my past, I’m still standing. And despite everything that happened in your past, you’re still standing. See? We’re survivors. You and me.”
Quinn watched intently as I rustled around my backpack for a pen. And when I found one, I used it to scribble out NL’s name, effectively erasing away the memory of the only boy I’d ever loved—the same one who’d stolen what little trust I’d had left in the world. I didn’t have patience for his games anymore.
“There,” I said. “Much better.”
Quinn wrapped his hand over my fingers and leaned in close to my ear. “Any guy who has your initials in his heart and lets you go, never deserved you in the first place.”
My breath quickened as he pulled the pen from my hand and turned toward the wall. I couldn’t see what he was doing, as his back blocked my view, but he appeared to be using my pen to add his own tribute to the wall. Once he was done, he moved to the side and gave me my first look at what he’d written. Above NL’s crossed out initials, Quinn had added his own.
QM
7
Quinn: Moral Support
The rain had picked up enough to make finishing our round of mini-golf impossible, so we returned our clubs and called it a day.
Expansive puddles formed in the parking lot, with Jess’s car sitting in isolation in the middle of the biggest one.
“Carry me,” she said, pulling on my arm.
“Carry you?” I smiled, already liking the sound of having her attached to my body. “Is there something wrong with your feet?”
“Yes, they’re inside my shoes.”
I gave her the crazy look her words deserved. “So are mine.”
“I know, but it took me four months to save up for these shoes. I don’t want to ruin them.”
Her reasoning was so endearing that I would’ve bought her a new pair of shoes on the spot. I’d never dated a woman as independent as her, one who was completely on her own with no family to catch her if she fell. In the span of one afternoon, I was already contemplating what it would be like to be that safety net for her.
I turned around and knelt down. “Hop on.”
“My hero,” she said, strapping onto my back and wrapping her legs around my waist. And then, in a move that brought the protective instincts out of me, Jess crossed her arms over my chest and buried her head into the crook of my neck. It was intimate and trusting. I liked being her hero.
“Do you have your key with you?” I asked as we approached her car.
