AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Bailey, I know things have been…difficult lately, but I do love you.”
Pausing, I turn to him and study his face. “I used to think so. But now I think you’re lying. To yourself and me.”
*****
I’ve had a great day, and all it takes is walking into my parents’ house to have my mood plummeting. Is it sad that I would call scrubbing walls in preparation for painting a great day? Maybe. It’s tedious work, and my arms and hands were cramping towards the end, but there is a certain satisfaction in the physical labor. Between that and joking around with my friends, I managed a few precious hours to shut off from my own life.
I’m so proud of Aspen and the progress she’s made with the shelter. When I first saw it, I had my doubts. Its previous owner had died, and the place had been abandoned while her son had tried to sell it. By the time Aspen bought it, it was rundown and needed a lot of work before it could start operating again. I thought she was crazy taking on such a big project but rescuing animals is her dream, and if anyone can make it work, she can.
But now, everything comes crashing back. Quinn’s car isn’t in the drive, and I have no idea if he’s coming. He hasn’t bothered to let me know, and if it wasn’t for the fact that I would have to try and explain his absence, I would have preferred him not to be here.
Whichever way, I’m not looking forward to spending an evening pretending in front of my family.
“There you are. I was starting to think you weren’t coming,” Amelia says, plucking the bottle of wine from my hands and heading to the kitchen.
“As if not coming is an option. Pour me a glass,” I call after her, grinning when she throws up a hand. Sometimes, I think the only thing that gets me through these family dinners is the wine.
“Hey, Dad. How was fishing?” He tilts his head absently, and I give him the obligatory peck on the cheek. A glance at the TV confirms that he’s watching one of his favorite fishing shows. Growing up, Sundays were known as Fishing Day, and to this day, his routine has never wavered. After church, he’d pack his truck, and off he went for the rest of the day. And if the weather didn’t permit it, he would be out back in the shed, rearranging his tackle box or whatever it is you do to take care of fishing…stuff. Not that I know anything about that. He took me once, and I was so bored I fell asleep, losing the pole in the process. Needless to say, he never took me again.
“Not one single bite,” he grumbles, his eyes glued to the TV.
“That’s too bad.”
“Enjoying the show?” I ask Gabriel with a smirk on my way to the kitchen, a long-suffering sigh his only answer.
“Bailey, you’re here,” Mom says, pausing long enough to give me a quick peck on the cheek.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I never miss these things.”
“These things?”
“You know what I mean,” I mumble, stifling my sigh at her frown and snatching the glass Amelia thrusts at me.
“Where’s Quinn?”
“Not sure.” I shrug, taking a healthy sip and turning to Amelia, hoping to change the subject. “Where’s the kids?”
“Gabriel’s sister. We’re picking them up after.”
“What do you mean? He didn’t come with you?”
I sigh, cursing Quinn for not phoning Mom. “No, he had a few things he had to take care of.”
“But he is coming?”
I shrug again, grabbing a cherry tomato and popping it into my mouth. Mom looks me over from head to toe, her eyes narrowed, as if I’ve done something wrong, and looking long enough will point out exactly what that is.
“Call him,” she demands, her hands on her hips.
Amelia sniggers, and I throw her a dirty look.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s an adult, and I did remind him about dinner. I don’t see the need to do it again or police his whereabouts.”
I’m not about to tell her that when I left this morning, I had the urge to lurk outside our apartment building and follow Quinn to see where he goes and what he gets up to. That a little seed of doubt has sprouted in the deepest part of me, and no matter how much I want to deny it light to grow, it’s there now, its roots firmly planted.
