The Passing Storm(61)

“Why would you get takeout?” Quinn glanced at her peevishly. “I cook on Mondays. I’m making rosemary chicken patties and garlic potatoes. Connor’s helping me.”

“Sounds heavenly.” She closed the fridge. “You know, we appreciate all the great meals. Before you moved in, we lived on lunch meat and frozen entrées. But you’re under no obligation to pull kitchen duty. If you have to study or aren’t in the mood to cook, just give me a call. I’ll pick something up.”

“The recipes are easy. It won’t take long.”

“How’s it going with the decorative lights?” She’d been too busy to check. “My dad says you’re making great progress.”

Quinn reached for his book bag, then reversed the motion. “Great,” he said with exactly no enthusiasm. In another worrisome habit, he began picking at his nails. “We’re on the fourth tree now. We’ll have all the lights strung this afternoon. We might get started on the fifth tree, if the weather holds. Connor thinks it might rain later on.”

“The forecast doesn’t call for rain until tonight. Only a twenty percent chance.”

“Whatever.”

A snippy response, and totally not Quinn’s style. “Do you need lunch money?” she asked, determined to get him talking. There was a chance bribery would soften up the churlish teen.

His eyes flashed. “Why would you give me lunch money? I’m not your kid.”

“I’m feeling generous this morning,” Rae tossed back, thinking, Hit the brakes. Trouble ahead. Speeding up instead, she asked, “Any new text messages from your mother? I’m hoping Penny had better things to do than badger you all weekend.” A touchy subject, but Quinn was already peevish.

“I took Connor’s advice and blocked her. He got pretty mad when I showed him the texts.” Dots of blood appeared on Quinn’s pinkie as he tore the nail too close to the skin. “He said a grown-up shouldn’t talk filth, especially to her own kid.”

The self-inflicted injury made Rae wince. “I agree. Parents should treat their children with love and respect.”

“Someone should tell my mom. I hate her stupid texts. She knows more cuss words than anyone on the planet.”

“Tell me about it. I googled a few of the unfamiliar ones.”

“Me too.” Quinn hesitated. “I also blocked my dad.”

A trill of fear swept through her. “You did?” Blocking Mik was like throwing down a gauntlet. There would be repercussions.

“I figured, what the heck. No guts, no glory. That’s what Connor says when I get hung up on decisions. The glory feels like a reach, though.”

Her heart went out to him. “Finding courage is never easy, Quinn. What matters is that you make the attempt.”

“Yeah. Learn to stand up for myself.”

“You will, in time.” Rae’s pulse jumped as she struggled for a placid tone. “Don’t let anyone stand in your way.”

Quinn rubbed his temples, as if dispelling a disturbing thought. “My dad will be angry when he figures out why he can’t reach me.”

“Just remember what I told you. The choice on where to live is legally yours. Mik has no power over you.”

“He won’t see it that way.”

“Maybe not, but you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

This didn’t sound nearly as positive as she’d like. Pausing, Rae dug deep for the right words. Quinn was learning to stand up for himself. She refused to let him down.

She caught his gaze. “I want you to stay, Quinn. You’re doing well in my home, and I like having you around. The last months have been hard . . . You’ve been an incredible help. More than you imagine. Plus, my father adores you. He seems ten years younger since you moved in.”

It was too much affection too fast. Quinn looked pained, too distraught to respond. Silently Rae chastised herself. His emotions were a delicate ballet. She was still learning the steps.

She picked up her briefcase. “I guess I’ll head out.” The urge to embrace him was powerful. To give physical proof to her desire to stand by him. Rae warded off the impulse. “If there’s anything else you’d like to discuss, I don’t have to—”

“No. I’m good.”

“Sure. Well, have a great day at school.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” she added, stalling.

Quinn’s expression churned, and she knew there was something more. Another problem he seemed incapable of sharing.

With misgivings, she pivoted away.

“Wait.” Quinn bit at his lower lip. “Rae, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I shouldn’t have waited this long. A dumb move, on my part.”

“Sure. I’m all ears.”

“It’s about Lark . . . what she was doing without telling you. I suppose she would’ve filled you in, eventually. I don’t want you to get mad, finding out now.”

The oxygen left the room. A new, darker element rushed in.

“I won’t be angry, promise.” She dredged up an encouraging smile. “What is it?”

“It’s about the stuff you wouldn’t tell her. The things you and Lark fought about.” A darting glance, this one anxious. “You know—about her dad.”