Dearborn Page 5

  Though I knew no one else could see them, the colors around Quinn were not just in my head. Color bathed him. It should have been off-putting, but it had the opposite effect. The colors were beautiful, their glow stunning against his skin. The effect was magical, making something in my chest flutter despite the unease in my stomach.

  I scrambled to erect the wall, even though I knew it would be mostly ineffective against him. I tapped on the window. “Quinn.”

  His head immediately popped up, and I was blasted with the same crippling anxiety I’d felt when he had walked into my café. His emerald eyes were dark, and depicted every emotion I sensed visibly.

  My legs threatened to buckle.

  I thought I might have to sit down in the parking lot or open the door to the truck and crawl inside. That would be something to explain. Excuse me, Quinn, as I crawl across you and try not to vomit on your lap.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have to. Anxiety was replaced with recognition. With a few blinks, his expression changed from tortured to wary yet welcoming. The red morphed into a Caribbean turquoise, and the worst of my discomfort disappeared.

  Did I have the same calming effect on him that he had on me during high school?

  He rolled down the window. “Hey there, Willow.” His voice was hoarse as if it was the first time he’d spoken all day even though we were well into the afternoon.

  “Are you okay?” I placed a hand on the window frame of the truck, more for support than anything as I waited for his answer. He looked at it as if he wasn’t sure about my proximity, and a hint of yellow snuck back in again.

  There goes my calming theory.

  I let go of the truck and took a step backward, nearly laughing out loud. I was the one who couldn’t get within a city block of him without getting sick, yet he was the one eying me like he thought I might rob him.

  He turned his gaze to the front window of the truck and seemed to focus on something he found out there. His fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was trying to figure some things out, I guess.”

  I tried to think of something—anything—that would ease the awkwardness between us but came up short. “Figuring things out is good.” I nearly rolled my own eyes at the ineptness of my answer.

  He shrugged, his eyes still focused on anything but me. “A necessary evil, I guess. Woodland Creek seems so different to me now.” A rich blue entirely replaced the yellow. Drowning in it, I had the urge to lay my head on his shoulder and bawl all over it.

  What was it like to be Quinn? He’d put his life on hold, sacrificed everything, and risked it all. What would it be like to devote yourself to your country with such purpose? And then, in a flash of an eye, be dumped back into your old life? My guess was Quinn couldn’t simply pick up where he’d left off. Life in Woodland Creek had moved on without him. His young dreams of playing professional football were long gone. While he’d been away fighting for our freedom, someone else had cashed in on his dream and taken his place.

  I had a sudden desire to know him—really know him. To know what he’d given up. To know what he’d gone through. To know everything about him. Considering my churning stomach, it defied all logic, and Ryan would not be a fan of this new plan.

  “So are you coming or going?” I asked

  “Coming.” His jaw ticked with determination.

  “Are you taking a class?”

  “No. I have an appointment with a course counselor. Do you know what time it is?”

  I looked at the phone in my hand as it vibrated with an incoming text. “Almost five-thirty.” I quickly read the message from Ryan. Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Will come by later and explain.

  I knew his explanation somehow related to Vanessa. I sighed, knowing I needed to get used to being second in line.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked; his green eyes filled with a concern I felt all the way to my bones.

  I forced a smile. “Oh, it’s nothing. Ryan was supposed to help me with a project tonight, but he can’t make it now.”

  “Oh.” Quinn ran his fingers through his hair, as he seemed to mull something over. The rainbow shifted around him as his conflicting emotions warred with one another. I tried not to stare, but his emotional instability was one of the loveliest, most awe-inducing things I’d ever seen. It all stabilized when he came to a decision. “Is it anything I can help you with?”

  “Trust me. You do not want to get involved with me.”

  He laughed, his eyes sparkling with a lightness that had been missing before, but then the rainbow surrounding him suddenly disappeared. My brain scrambled to figure out why but found Quinn to be a blank slate. He cocked his head, his lips quirking upwards into the first real smile I’d seen from him. He probably thought it was hilarious. Odd little Willow still had a crush on him after all of these years.

  And it was a ridiculous notion. I told myself that my interest in him stemmed purely from curiosity. I simply wanted to know why he had the effect on me he did, why he seemed to magnify the curse I’d been living with my whole life, and find a way to deal with it. If he had this effect on me, there would surely be others.

  Right.

  Why are you even thinking about this? He’s clearly a head case too. He’s avoiding his friends. He eats oatmeal because his stomach is a wreck—and that’s nothing compared to what he does to yours or what is going on in that head of his—and now he’s sitting in his truck avoiding his future.

  Nope. I wasn’t interested in him. Not like that, anyway.

  As much as I’d wanted it to, dating normal guys had never worked out for me. So dating one who made me sick every time I was near him was out of the question. I’d never be able to put up the façade of normalcy. Ryan was right. I needed someone who was different like I was different. Sure, Quinn was a walking rainbow, but he wasn’t the kind of different I was looking for even if the view was lovely.

  “I meant, involved with this project,” I continued, rolling my eyes at the additional layer of awkwardness I’d interjected into our conversation. As if we really needed any more. “You don’t want to get involved in this project. It’s huge and doesn’t pay well.” I laughed. “Or at all.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. I can do huge.” He winked at me, and suddenly, those eyes gleamed as if he was eighteen again with none of the burdens of the last fifteen years behind them. My heart stuttered to a stop, and my cheeks caught on fire. He was a big man. I was sure he could do huge. His eyebrows arched. “The project, of course.”

  I gaped at him and backtracked. “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

  “I missed it an hour and a half ago. I’m sure she gave up on me by now and is probably heading home. You said it’s after five.”

  Geez. He’s been sitting in his truck for an hour and a half?

  I should’ve heard warning bells. They should’ve been clanging as loud as a Catholic church when the pope comes to visit, but it was silence all around me. My nausea had completely passed, and the Dearborn rainbow was conspicuously missing. Could we work together without it making me feel as if I was going to collapse? Maybe Ryan was wrong. Like Vanessa, Quinn seemed to be able to block me at times. I needed to find the loophole.

  I also really wanted to work on the bathroom. I had goals. A schedule to keep. “Do you really want to help me?”

  He nodded. “More than anything.”

  I laughed. “Do you think, maybe, you’re using me as an excuse to avoid your future?”

  He nodded again. “More than anything.”

  “You should talk to someone about that.”

  “I’ll look into it.”

  I looked down at my phone again. “I ordered a pizza. I need to pick it up on my way home.”

  “Dinner’s included, too? What a deal.”

  “Of course. Dinner and beer. I don’t expect you fellas to work for free.”

  His face fell ever so slightly. “What about Ryan? Will he care?”

  Most def
initely, he would. “Not at all. He’ll be glad you took his place.”

  “Oh, I’m not taking his place,” Quinn said quickly. “I don’t want him to think that. I just thought, you know, you helped me out once when I needed it. I want to return the favor.”

  “Well, that’s entirely unnecessary. I was paid to help you out, and I enjoyed it.”

  “I wouldn’t have gotten to play the championship game without you. I want to do it. I can pick up the pizza and meet you.”

  “Are you sure?” I dug through my purse for some money. I felt bad letting him pick up the pizza, but I could use a few extra minutes to pick up the house before he got there.

  “I’m sure. Where am I going? Pizza Pi?”

  “The one and only.” As in literally. It was literally the only pizza place in town, though if Quinn hadn’t been anywhere but the grocery store in three months, he probably didn’t know that. I pulled out a twenty and held it out to him.

  He shook his head. “No way.”

  I reached through the open window and dropped it on his lap then immediately started backing away so he couldn’t hand it back. “I pay for dinner or there is no deal.”

  He cocked his head but put his truck into gear. It let out a big groan in response. “Where to after that?”

  “The green and purple house next to the diner.”

  He nodded and the truck began to inch forward. “See you in a few.”

  “Oh, and Quinn?”

  He stopped suddenly and the truck lurched. “Yeah?”

  “Ryan is only a friend.”

  His smile as he drove away had a more devastating effect on my jelly legs than anything else he’d inflicted on me.

  It was only after he’d turned the corner and his truck was out of sight that I realized he hadn’t even asked about the project. He was helping me and going in blind. I had a feeling this was not a new concept for First Sergeant Dearborn.

  QUINN

  I SAT OUTSIDE THE PIZZA place gripping the steering wheel of the truck as if I could choke answers out of it. How was I going to make it through an evening with Willow if I couldn’t even force myself to go inside and pick up her dinner? It was a terrible idea.

  I twisted my hands back and forth around the worn leather wheel. You can barely help yourself. How are you going to help her?

  I had to find a way. I was messed up in the head, but I wasn’t so messed up I didn’t know what I wanted.

  I’d been ready to bolt from this town. There was something about it, something that made it hard to escape from Woodland Creek; something that yanked you back even when you did. I was proof of it. I’d come to visit my mother and ended up staying three months even though I wasn’t myself here.

  All it had taken was one look from Willow to put my escape strategy on hold.

  I’d packed my bags. I was ready to roll. I went to the diner planning to say my goodbyes before I’d even said hello, but I hadn’t expected her. I’d been so worried about meeting with the guys I hadn’t even considered the fact that Willow might be there, too. Then again, why would she be there fifteen years later?

  She’d been smart—super smart, in fact. Hell, she’d tutored me in math when I was a senior and she was just a sophomore. She should have left this two-bit town and never looked back. Working in a diner and going to school at night didn’t seem like a big enough life for a girl like Willow—correction—for a woman like Willow.

  She was all grown up now, and I wasn’t sure which side of her I liked more. While working, she’d pulled her dark hair up into a messy knot on the top of her head. Food splatters had covered her Creek Café shirt and grease streaked her apron. Tonight, she’d left her hair down and long brown ringlets fell down her back. She’d swapped her t-shirt and apron for something that showed off a few more assets. I guess I liked both sides. She was the sexiest thing I’d seen in fifteen years, and I’d seen a lot.

  I’d gone home from the diner and finally unpacked my bags.

  There was something about those almond-shaped eyes, the color of dark honey, wide and sparkling, that held me captive and made the prospect of staying a little more bearable. I just needed to keep my shit together long enough to have a normal conversation with her.

  Not that I could pull anything over on her.

  When she looked at me, I could tell she saw it all. The madness, the misery, and the hopelessness all reflected in her eyes. She knew exactly how messed up I was.

  But I could see something else reflected in them, too. She remembered the boy I’d once been, so innocent, eager, and full of life. She looked at me as if she thought there was still a piece of that kid somewhere inside of me—but I knew better. He was a mirage that vanished as soon as you reached for him.

  A part of me wanted to duck my head and hide all the awfulness from her. A part of me wanted to bare it all to see if she could help me find him again.

  WILLOW

  I SCRAMBLED THROUGH THE HOUSE, grabbing shoes and stray clothing as I went. I threw them into my bedroom without even looking and pulled the door closed behind me.

  The kitchen was next. The open cereal box went back in the cabinet. I stashed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher where they belonged. With everything put away, I began wiping down the countertops and kitchen table. The house wouldn’t have gotten this kind of treatment for Ryan. He would have eaten pizza on top of my crumbs without complaining, and I would expect that of him. But I couldn’t ask the same of Quinn.

  I tossed the rag into the sink, hoping the kitchen looked like I actually lived this way and not like I was trying to impress him.

  On my way to the front door, I worked on my wall, reconstructing it brick-by-ineffective-brick. I reached the door at the same time as the doorbell rang and forced myself to count to five before opening it. He didn’t need to think I was standing by the door waiting for him. He was more agitated than he had been at the end of our conversation in the parking lot, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as when I’d found him with his forehead pressed against his steering wheel.

  I welcomed him in, and whatever inner conflict he had felt when he stepped onto my porch passed. He stepped into my entryway draped in a faint seafoam hue as calming to me as he felt. As he shrugged off his jacket, I took a moment to look at him. He wore cargo pants like you would find at a department store. A plain black t-shirt stretched nicely across his chest. The jacket he threw onto the hall tree appeared to be military issue. The combination was telling, as if he’d tried to make an effort to look like a normal civilian but couldn’t completely surrender to it. Once a soldier, always a soldier. Was that how it worked?

  He glanced around the entryway with genuine interest. “I’ve always thought this house was so cool.”

  “Really?”

  “When we were kids, everyone thought this house was haunted and that Janice Crabtree was a witch, mixing spells in the basement. I never really bought into that nonsense though.”

  I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. It was a rumor perpetuated by the kids from the newer side of town where Quinn had grown up. Because I was from the old part of town, I knew better. The house wasn’t haunted, and Janice hadn’t been a witch. There was no such thing in Woodland Creek.

  There were a few wizards scattered around though, and the rumors about Janice mixing spells in her basement were not too far from the truth. Not that she minded them. To the contrary, I’d always suspected she’d painted her house lime green and purple to feed the rumors. The old Victorian monstrosity—complete with round room and turret—looked like a witch should live there. Experience had taught me that there was a grain of truth at the heart of every rumor, no matter how seemingly outlandish.

  “Hmm. I’m sure they probably say the same things about me now,” I said, laughing.

  “Nah, you’re too pretty to be a witch. Not that Janice wasn’t pretty in her day. I’m sure she was,” he added quickly. “Is she here?” His gaze traveled up the grand staircase leading to the second floor.
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br />   “No. She died a few years ago.” Guilt-tinged grief washed over me. I was glad he didn’t suffer from the same affliction I did, so he couldn’t feel it too. It had been almost six years since her heart attack, but I still missed her terribly. “Come on,” I said, trying to change the subject. “We can eat in the kitchen.”

  I turned in that direction, but he stopped me. He looked at his hand as if he was surprised he had touched me, and both his expression and his touch caused my stomach to do flips. This time, in the very best way. “I’m so sorry, Willow. I know you two were close.” Melancholy wafted off him, matching my own.

  He gave my arm a squeeze, and then I watched his hand fall. I was sure my expression gave me away, too. It had been a while since a man other than Ryan had touched me, and even longer since one had made my heart stutter and race as his touch had. I led him through the house, fighting the urge to grab his hand and pull him along simply so I could touch him again.

  “I know people thought Janice and I were an odd match. They couldn’t understand why I would want to hang out with someone fifty years older than I am, but she was one of my best friends.”

  “There are no rules when it comes to friends. Besides, even witches have a family, right?” He laughed at what he still considered an absurd notion. “I figured she was an aunt or something since you were always here and helping her at the diner.”

  In the kitchen, I took the pizza from him and placed it on the table. I pulled some plates out of the cabinet and set them down too. “We were family in all the ways that mattered. I was all she had, and when she died, she left me the house because she knew I loved it.”

  He looked at me incredulously. “Really? She gave you her house?”

  “And the diner, too, though I think she considered it a payment for an old debt.” I opened the door to the refrigerator. “Beer?”

  “That would be great. What kind of debt?”

  I ducked my head into the refrigerator. “Thanks for picking up the pizza,” I said, changing the subject. I’d already said too much. If I kept it up, he’d know all of my secrets before we were done with dinner, and I’d be in a heap of trouble.