"I've loved you since I was eleven, Quinn Davis, and I'll love you until I'm one hundred and eleven. You have no idea how proud I am to call you mine, and after today, you showin' me just how strong you are, baby, that pride is somethin' that brings me to my knees." His fingers flex and he pulls me closer, going even deeper. "There will never be a day you aren't feelin' my love for you, baby. I'll spend the rest of my life makin' sure you never, ever, regret givin' us this again."
My eyes close as he tightens his arms, holding me to him, pressing me closer to him as he brushes his lips against my cheeks, catching each of my tears as they slowly fall from my eyes.
"I love you, Grease."
I shudder a breath. "I love you, Starch."
27
TATE
"Brace for Impact (Live a Little)" by Sturgill Simpson
- -
I shut the door of the truck that Quinn just jumped down from and turn to follow her up the walk to her house, some lingering exhaustion still clinging to me even with the long nap we had when we got back to my house from the airport. Even though we were only in California for a short time, it was enough for the trip to drain us both.
My cell vibrates when I reach Quinn's side, and I pull it out of my pocket to see the word unknown on the display.
"How do your patients expect you to call them back if they're callin' from an unknown number?"
"No clue," I mumble, putting my cell back in my back pocket and pulling Quinn into my body with one arm over her shoulder as we continue to walk up to the porch.
"Did they leave a message this time?"
"No message. Must not be an emergency." Even as I say the words, I don't completely believe them. "I need to talk to Russ about gettin' us hooked up with an answerin' service. They could filter out the calls that need to reach me and avoid leavin' me worryin' that someone needs medical care."
Quinn hums and leans into my side. "That would beat you handin' out your private number to each one of those floozies that come into your practice."
I snort out a laugh and look down at her, careful as we steer our way up the porch steps of her and Clay's house. "You make it sound like they got pregnant just to get my number, Grease."
"Well, if you weren't my man I'm pretty sure I would be desperate to get that number myself."
I shake my head but smile at her crazy logic.
When we got home earlier this morning, I called her brothers to let them know we would be over later. As much as I knew they wanted to see her, her emotions were in overload territory and it was my job to help carry that load for her. They didn't like it, but they gave us the time we needed. It was a good thing too, seeing that she could hardly hold her body up to just walk through the airport, falling asleep the second she buckled up in my truck before we even pulled out of the parking spot.
I drove us back to my house and carried her to my bed. She didn't wake up once during all that until about an hour ago. While we were sleeping, I got an abnormal number of missed calls, though, and it's been nagging at me ever since. The majority were from her brothers, three from the office, two unknown numbers . . . and one from my parents' number.
It was that last call from my parents that was making me the most uneasy. They know better than to call. I made sure the last time I spoke to them that they knew never to contact me. It's kind of hard to argue with someone when they say they want you to forget they were ever born--that they should consider you dead to them forever.
They had never given me a single hint that they actually had hearts residing inside of the two of them, so I doubt they're calling to set up a reunion. No, something forced them to make that call. I'm just not sure I ever want to find out what it was.
"Hey!" Quinn calls out into the house after opening the front door and walking inside. I trail in after her, my mind still a million miles away. "I figured they would at least be around since they knew we were on the way," she huffs while her eyes roam through the parts of the house she can see from where she's standing just inside the entryway.
I shut the door and walk up behind her, not wanting her far from my touch with the unsettled nerves twisting my thoughts. Right before I reach out, my thoughts shift from her to the phone vibrating in my back pocket again.
"Hey," Maverick says with a deep grunt, coming out of the kitchen and hugging his sister. "I just called you," he says to me, holding his phone up and shaking it.
"Felt it, but we were walkin' up so figured I would check it later. My phone's been going off since we got back." I didn't realize I had been holding myself so tensely until he said he was the one that made my phone go off just now.
"Everything okay?"
"Gladys called a few times, but it was just some patients with questions. Other than that, yeah, nothin' I need to deal with at the moment."
He nods, brushing me off, but not in a rude way. He's worried about his sister and that's taking precedence in his mind right now. "And you? You okay?" he asks Quinn, his green eyes searching her face for clues as to how she's feeling.
I look down and watch her lips, feeling my chest get tight when she smiles up at her brother. I'll never get sick of seeing that smile.
"I told you yesterday on the phone that I'm fine, Mav. Honestly, I am."
I hear Clay stomping into the room, but I don't look away from her.
"You sure about that, sugar?"
She looks over at Clay when she hears his voice, and I lose sight of her smile. She doesn't answer right away, moving away from me to give Maverick a hug before stepping in front of Clay.
"Positive." She turns, the braid she pulled her hair into before we left swinging in an arc, and beams that heart-stopping smile at me. "Plus I had one hell of a support system with me."
I feel my face get soft as I smile at her. She winks before looking away and giving Clay a hug.
"Where's Leigh?" Quinn asks as she steps back and into my side.
"She's at the PieHole dealing with some prep for tomorrow or somethin', I don't know. Said she wanted to have her mornin' clear for some girl time with you, but I think she really just got sick of dealin' with his broodin'," Clay says with a gruff laugh, pointing at a scowling Maverick.
"Ask," Quinn says to Maverick, sighing and ignoring her brother's joke.
He frowns, giving her his back as he walks toward the kitchen. Taking it as a hint, we all follow, and she grabs my hand before we step into the room.
"I'm just worried about you," Maverick says, holding the back of his neck as he leans against the counter. "Seein' her wasn't easy for me, Quinny, but I hadn't been thinkin' she was some kind of fairy-tale mama. It couldn't have been that easy on you, darlin'."
Quinn walks over to the island directly across from him and hops onto it. I stand next to her with my hip against the counter and let her run the show. I look up, seeing her studying Maverick with a reserved look of love and acceptance--no pain--before glancing back at him.
"What do you want to hear? That it sucked seein' her? It did, but probably not because of what you're thinkin'. Mav, I felt nothin'. Not one thing gave me a connection to her other than the fact that I clearly favor her in looks. I walked in there and it was like lookin' in a freakin' mirror. I think that shocked me at first, but after that, nothin'. It was like everything I had ever thought I would feel if I saw her vanished. The things I thought I needed from her didn't matter anymore. All I felt was pity for her."
"Pity? You felt sorry for her?" Clay asks, a hard, bitter tone to his voice.
She turns, looks at me, and takes a deep breath. I can't tell what's she's thinking, but I know what she's telling her brothers, what they want to believe, is true. She really is okay. I press a ghost of a kiss against her lips and she pulls back, rolling her forehead against mine on her way to look back at her brothers as they lean against the counter in front of her.
"Yeah," she breathes, then clears her throat before finishing. "I felt sorry for her because she left. She left and because of that, she's miss
ed this," she says, lifting her hand and pointing between the three of them. "She'll never know what a strong man her eldest son is, how he protects us and worries about us like a parent and not a brother. She won't get a chance to know the proud and courageous man her middle son is. How he beat all the odds to take back the life he wanted. And, well . . . she won't know me. So yeah, I feel bad, because in my book, we have the whole world together and she's got nothin'."
"Christ," Maverick whispers under his breath.
"Fuckin' hell," Clay hisses.
I give the hand I had been holding a squeeze and let go when her brothers both push off the counter and step toward her. I want them to have this moment with her, alone.
"I'll be outside, darlin'."
She leans over and gives me a kiss before I turn and walk out of the Davis house with a full fucking heart knowing that I'm one lucky son of a bitch and the woman that I love with all my damn heart doesn't have a single fucking ghost clouding her eyes when she looks at me anymore.
Fuck, does it feel good.
When I got back to Pine Oak six weeks ago, I was too afraid to believe that I would actually win my fight for Quinn. I was determined, that's for sure, but fuck, was I nervous. Now here I am, her love given to me freely and her trust earned.
I glance over the pasture to the stables, seeing everyone down there busy at work. It's getting to be the end of a long workday and I bet they're ready to get home.
I take a deep breath and look up at the cloudless sky. The sun is shining and there isn't a single thing about the day around me that isn't perfect--except for the feeling crawling up my back. There's something in the air, and even with everything in my life sailing smoothly, I feel a storm rolling in.
"Shit," I hiss under my breath.
28
QUINN
"Ain't Always Pretty" by Logan Mize
- -
"You ready to head out, Starch?" Tate jumps when I step out on the porch, and I stifle my laugh. "Whoa there, cowboy. What's got you so jumpy?"
His eyes flash at my joke, but just as quickly as it comes, it's gone, a neutral expression in its place. I frown but write it off as him just being overwhelmed and exhausted from our trip. Even though the trip was tough for me, the quick back-and-forth must have taken its toll on him, too.
"Just tired, darlin'," he answers, confirming my thoughts. "You sure you don't want to stay here tonight?"
I smile and wrap my arms around his stomach, looking up at him as I hug myself to him. "As much as I appreciate you makin' sure I don't want to be with my brothers right now, my place is with you, honey. Mav is about to head home and Clay's headed over to Coal Creek tonight to meet up with some friends of his. They know where I want to be, so they didn't make plans to be here tonight."
His lips hit my forehead and I close my eyes in contentment, his arms tightening slightly around my shoulders.
"That's what I like to hear."
"Well, then take me to bed or lose me forever, Starch." I giggle, trying to keep a straight face.
He starts to smile, but when I feel the vibration of his phone under my clasped hands resting on top of his belt, he frowns, lines of stress forming between his eyes as his lips thin.
He doesn't move.
"What is it?" I ask apprehensively.
"This time? Not sure."
"Then what has you holdin' yourself so tense?"
I feel his heartbeat pounding against my chest, and a slight ripple of unease twists through my body.
"Someone called from my parents' number a few hours ago."
A flash of cold slams through my senses before I can prevent it. I know what he's said about his parents, and that alone makes me feel panic. I know he meant what he said about never letting them control us again, but still . . . They probably aren't calling to get a status update on our relationship and ask when the damn wedding is.
"And?"
"I'm not sure what to do with it, to be honest."
"Do they know about us?" I ask, trying to push back the worry.
He nods. "They know I was set on gettin' back what they stole from us. I doubt they know that I've been successful, though."
I take a deep breath and calm my roaring heart. I didn't get this far just to let someone else come between us again. "Well, honey, let's get in the truck and call them back on the way to your house. No sense in letting them darken our day any longer," I tell him with a deadly calm tone. His body deflates slightly at my words and I roll up to my toes to press a kiss against his jaw. "I love you, Tate. One battle at a time. We're almost at the finish line of the past and it's time we take those final strides so we can finally start our new life together."
Some of the harshness in his face softens and he takes a deep breath. "I love you."
I wink. "I know."
His chest moves as he laughs, and I feel my own worry wash away when he seems to return to his normal, confident self. I get a deep kiss from him after I climb into the passenger seat of his truck before he shuts the door and walks around the hood. He climbs in a moment later and starts the truck, turning and driving to the end of the long driveway.
When he reaches the turnoff, he pulls his phone out, looking down at the screen before glancing over at me. "You mind if I call them before we pull out of here? No offense to your family place and all, but I hope one day my house will be yours too, and I don't really want to bring my parents near there . . . even if it is with just a phone call."
Jesus Jones, if my heart could get any bigger, my love for this man just continues to grow. I shake my head and relax in my seat, letting him know I'm good. He nods and looks back to his phone, his fingers moving over the screen. It's only a short few minutes' drive to his house, but still, I'm glad he's making this call before we get there.
Tate presses the call-back button and puts the phone on speaker.
"Too busy in that backwoods town to answer the phone, Tatum?"
I jump when a nasal, high-pitched male voice answers. The man I assume is Tate's father sounds just as spineless as I know him to be. Good Lord, I'm glad his son didn't get his voice.
"What do you want?" Tate asks, voice harsh and tense.
I scoot as close as I can, with the center console in the way, and see his fingers tense around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. I place my hand on his thigh, giving him a gentle squeeze so he knows I'm here if he needs me. He looks down and the second my touch registers, he rips one of his hands free and wraps it around mine.
"What do I want?" The man laughs and I suppress a shudder when the mirthless, vile sound echoes around the cab. Tate's hold on my hand jerks. "A few months ago, my good-for-nothin' son told me he was runnin' back to the trash in Fisher's old town. You made it clear then that any association between us was to be severed. What I want is to know why your bullshit is floatin' up to darken my doorstep again."
I don't flinch at the implication that I'm the trash Tate was returning to. His father's words don't hurt me. They might have two months ago, before Tate and I made it to the solid ground we're on now, but not anymore. Tate looks over, eyes searching, and I give him a small smile and a shake of my head, reaching over to hold his hand between both of mine. I hope he realizes that I'm not affected by his father's hateful words.
"You hear me, Tatum?"
"I heard you, but I also heard you insultin' my woman. Don't make that mistake again."
His father grunts. "The last thing I want to do is think about that woman you've run back to despite all attempts at me trying to get you to see your error in judgment. What could you possibly see in a mechanic, of all things?" He spits out mechanic like other people would say hooker.
Tate's eyes spark with ire and I try to soothe his temper by shaking my head and rubbing my hand over his arm. I can feel his rage growing to be a palpable thing and I'm helpless but to witness the effect his father has on him. I can't imagine what it was like dealing with the man while he held the upper hand for s
o long.
"She is so much more than that, you son of a bitch," Tate practically growls. "She's everything that you will never find and would have never found in those idiotic women you had such high hopes of me ending up with."
"Oh, you stupid boy. Tell me, son, if she's all that you claim, care to tell me why I had to deal with one of those so-called idiotic women early this morning?"
I frown at the same time Tate does.
"Excuse me?" he asks in a calm voice that I know is just for show.
"Even when left to your own devices, you can't even find one that isn't fucked-up. Could've seen it with the hick, at least she was a looker with some great tits, Tatum. This girl that showed up, though, not sure you understood what I was tryin' to get you to go after if that's the side piece you're attemptin'. Want them mute and compliant, not mouthy and fuckin' crazy, goin' on about how you two are meant to be together and wantin' to see if you were around."
I feel a tremor of fear shake through my hands, something Tate doesn't miss, because his other hand drops from the wheel to hold mine tight. Confusion is still written all over his face, but, even not understanding what his father is saying, he's pleading with me to believe in him--in us.
Jesus Jones--can I do that, faced with something that has the potential to gut me deep, carving out a hole in the part inside me that had finally healed?
"I don't know what game you're playin'," Tate fumes through clenched teeth, and I pray for the strength to calm my breathing. "I don't give a shit if the goddamn president shows up lookin' for me next--you lose my number and forget that I was ever alive. I'm not your son. If in some unfortunate event we're to cross paths, look through me like I will you and pretend that we're strangers. I have a good life started here and I'm not going to let you rip it away again."
That evil-as-hell laugh booms through the line even before Tate has finished speaking.
Then, a ball of doom is thrown into our court.
"Well, I gave your crazy little bitch directions to Fisher's, so she should be well on her way. Have fun cleanin' up that mess, Tatum."
The phone disconnects and all that's left is silence between us.
"Tate?" I ask, my voice shaking as fear gets the best of me.