Page 35 of Turning Back

Chapter Eight - Rochelle

After Quin leaves I have a sudden wave of loneliness. Adley sleeps past lunchtime and if we were home we’d be getting ready to go out to our special pool in the hot springs.

Home? Why did I just refer to Pagosa as home?

That’s not my home. This place isn’t my real home either, but it’s the closest thing I have. I grew up in Palm Springs. The desert. Mild winters and summers so hot, you really can fry an egg on the sidewalk.

I hated it there. Hated it. And yeah, most of my hate has nothing to do with the city or the weather. But that hate lingers.

My cell phone rings about an hour after Quin leaves. I know who it is, so I pick it up and say, “How can I help you, Mr. Bricman?”

“That went well, right?”

“Better than I could’ve hoped,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed.

“What’s wrong?” Bric asks, picking up on my melancholy.

“How long do you think he’ll want to do this?” I ask. “The three of us? Forever?”

“Forever?” Bric laughs. I roll my eyes, because I know his view on relationships and forever. “Nah. Why, you’re tired of me already?”

“Not you, really. Just… I’d like something normal. Eventually.”

“What’s normal?”

“Well, Bric, it’s definitely not a ménage à trois.”

“Says who?”

It’s a losing battle with him. He thinks everything that happens in that Club is normal. “Never mind.”

“Hey, if I’m a third wheel, just let me know and I’ll bail.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s Quin. We kinda talked and he’s into it.”

I can almost hear Bric smile on the other end of the phone. “So what’s the problem?”

“Nothing, yet. But like you always say, there’s no such thing as forever.”

“So just enjoy it while it lasts,” he says.

“I don’t want to lose this new game,” I admit.

“Well, you won the last round. Your chances of winning are good, brat.”

“Did I win?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? That’s never happened before. In fact, Rochelle, you’re a whole bunch of firsts for us. First girl to play for three years. First girl to get what you wanted. First girl to make Smith Baldwin quit early.” We both laugh at that. “First to turn back and play again.”

“I don’t want to play though. I want it to be real. I told you that.”

“It’s real,” he says, frustrated. “What’s not real about it?”

Good God. This man. He has no clue.

“I’m serious,” he says. “What part of this is tripping you up?”

“He wants me with you, Bric.”