Page 20 of Turning Back

I glare at him in disgust. “It’s mine.”

Bric puts his hands up, conceding to my anger. “Whatever.”

“We’re going,” Smith says. His no-nonsense voice doesn’t quite have the same power when he’s wearing sweats, not the way it does when he’s in a five-thousand-dollar suit. But it comes close. “We’re going over there. All four of us. And we’re getting to the bottom of this bullshit. Fuck her. She did this to us, OK? She fucked with us. I for one—I’m getting an answer. And the rest of you are coming with me.”

Smith hands the dog off to Chella, who hugs her tightly to her chest, and then he picks up his gym bag. “Meet us in the Four Seasons’ lobby. Come on, Chella.” He grabs her hand and tugs her down the stairs, leaving me alone with Bric.

I look at him, my eyes narrowed and angry.

“What do you want to do?” he asks.

“Did you know about this?” I ask.

“No,” he says, defensive. “How the fuck would I know about this?”

I don't believe him. I can’t put my finger on why, but I don’t believe him.

“I swear, Quin. I had no idea she was in town. But now that she’s here you should go talk to her. Say what you have to say. Set things right.”

“Set things right?” I ask. “In what way do you see me setting things right? I didn’t do anything. I didn’t leave her. I didn’t run away. I didn’t tell her to get an abortion. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t tell her to get an abortion, either,” Bric growls. “And now that you know she kept the baby, don’t you want to see her?”

“How do you know the baby’s a her?” I ask.

“Not the baby, asshole,” Bric says. “Her, as in Rochelle.”

Do I want to see Rochelle?

I can honestly say that up until this revelation, that answer was yes. So many yeses. No hesitation, no qualms, no conditions. Yes.

I thought I’d feel relief when Rochelle was found. We did look for her but Bric never had any luck. And every time he called with a report I’d have a little flutter of hope in my heart that he’d say he knew where she was. I’d imagine how I’d go to her. How we’d reunite and all the bad things would disappear. All the sadness and anger and confusion.

But now that this moment is real… I’m so fucking pissed off.

And she had my baby.

I missed it. I missed the pregnancy. Her belly getting big. The heartbeat. That picture thing the doctor takes that people post all over social media. The birth. What did she name it? What does it look like?

I missed everything. She took it all away from me and I don’t think I can ever forgive her for that.

“Quin.” Bric interrupts my thoughts. “Come on. You need to do this.”

“No,” I say, the anger melting away. “No. I’m not going.”

I turn to leave but Bric has my arm again. “You’re going, Quin. This shit is over now. You and Smith are my best friends and Rochelle tore us apart.”

“Exactly. So now it’s over, Bric. I’m done. I don’t even care what you did or didn’t do. We can be friends again.”

“We can’t,” he says. “It’s not the same. You know it’s not. You’re still pissed off at me about this shit and if we just go over there like Smith says, and have it out with her, it will be better. I know it.”

I just look at him, trying to figure out his angle. He always has an angle. “Why do you care?”

“Why?” He laughs. “Why? I’m playing the fucking game with Jordan Wells, Quin. He’s just not my type.”

I laugh. I can’t help myself.

Bric laughs too. “I’m totally fucking serious. I can’t, man. I can’t have sex with that guy two on one. He’s an asshole. It’s nothing like it was with you and Smith. And OK, Smith is out. Fine. But if you were still in… It’d be a whole lot better than me and Jordan Wells.”