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Well, yes, I was. For a few days. And then I realized I didn’t miss Kevin all that much. I more so missed theideaof him. He filled the empty spaces of my life easily, but the truth is, I’d never loved him.
And to be honest, the sex was subpar. Passable, but not really enjoyable.
“I’m fine,” I say, not quite sure what to say to her.
“Well, Quinn talks about you all the time,” she goes on. “Really looks up to you.”
Huh. I don’t see why. I glance down at my worn work boots and my faded, loose jeans. I rub at my black t-shirt with some lingering script lining the front. Well, I could probably dress nicer, but I don’t really care much to change. And I’m decent-looking, I guess, with dark-brown hair shaved close to my head and stubble lining my jaw. My work as a delivery driver has me moving often and lifting heavy things so I’ve always been in shape, but as an entire package, I sure as shit don’t think I’m anything to aspire to.
Shit, I never even went to college. In fact, if there was ever a bad decision to be made out there, I’m pretty sure I’ve made it.
“Mama, really,” Quinn says, moving into the hallway, his hands clasping a duffle bag, a pillow, and a sleeping bag. “Stop telling him my secrets.”
His mom laughs and pulls him into a hug, kissing his temple.
“Well, that’s no fun.”
Quinn pulls away and I reach out, grabbing his duffle bag, and then I can’t help but ask once more. Just to be sure.
“You’re sure it’s fine?” I ask, needing reassurance.
“One hundred percent,” his mom says, and Quinn eyes me quietly.
“Well, you two have fun. Send me pictures if you remember.”
“Yeah, I will,” Quinn replies as the two of us are making our way outside, the humid breeze hitting me almost immediately.
“Josh is an idiot,” Quinn says when we reach the truck.
I look over at him and shake my head. “No, he’s just young and trying to live his life. Plus, his mom tells him a lot of not-so-good and very untrue things about me. I don’t blame him for the way he thinks,” I say, and Quinn rubs at his chest.
“Yeah, well, he’s missing out. I’m just sayin’,” he replies as I toss his things into the back seat of the cab and then walk around and slide into the driver’s side.
As soon as the engine rumbles on, I turn to look at my son’s best friend and my heart thumps awkwardly in my chest.
“Ready?” I ask, wanting to give him a final out, just in case.
“Hell, yeah, Grey. I’m fucking ready.”
I eye him, those high cheekbones, those red lips, those dark lashes, and then force my gaze back to the road.
Yeah, okay, here we fucking go.
ChapterTwo
Grey
As soon as we hit the highway, Quinn is fiddling with the truck’s stereo system, connecting his phone via Bluetooth, and minutes later, soft music floats through the speakers.
“You like this kind of stuff?” he asks, peering over at me, his phone spinning in his hands. Those knuckles of his are still caked with clay, and I wonder if it’s just permanent. Like, no matter how much he washes, he can never remove his art from his skin.
It’s a part of him.
“It’s cool.”
“I know you like country. I can pull up a playlist if you want,” he says, and I shake my head.
“Nope, this works. Really.”
