Page 24 of Good Graces

A couple of other patrons are already moving. Someone’s getting the parents. I hoist the kid onto the deck, kneeling beside him as he coughs up water, his eyes wide and wet and panicked.

“You good?” I ask, giving him a second to breathe. “Can you tell me your name?”

He nods shakily. “Owen Satterly.”

“Alright, Owen.” I shift back, letting him sit up. “You’re safe now. But no more deep end unless you’re with an adult, yeah?”

Another nod, this one more embarrassed than scared. I sit with him for another minute until his breathing evens out, until his parents arrive, fussing and thanking me a hundred times before leading him off with a towel wrapped tight around his shoulders.

The second they’re gone, I exhale, rolling my shoulders.

It wasn’t bad. A routine save, nothing I haven’t handled before. But I suppose you never get used to the fear of thewhat-ifs.

It’s also enough for management to call it for the day. The pool’s too crowded, too chaotic, and Robbie—our manager—doesn’t like taking unnecessary risks. He blows the final whistle and calls for maintenance to shock the water, using it as a tidy excuse to shut everything down until morning.

By the time I’m drying off and heading to the staff room, Zane’s just showing up for his shift. He takes one look at my damp hair and smirks. “You finally fall in, Mercer?”

“Kid needed a pull,” I mutter, shaking water from my ears. “Pool’s shut down. Did no one tell you?”

Zane groans. “I hauled my ass here for what? To stand around and look pretty?”

I snort, but my attention flicks to the schedule taped up on the wall. I already know what it says. I checked it this morning. And yesterday. And possibly the day before that, too.

Quinn was supposed to be caddying for the Mancini group, but I haven’t seen a glimpse of her all day. In fact, the Mancinis are with Mikey—I saw them together when I came in this morning.

I shouldn’t notice. Shouldn’t care. But the empty space where she’s supposed to be? I feel it anyway.

“Where’s Quinn?” I ask, voice even. “She’s on the schedule.”

Robbie glances up from the paperwork he’s stacking. “Called out.”

I nod, but something tightens in my chest.

Robbie studies me, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You gonna act like you haven’t been tracking her whereabouts like it’s your second job?”

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I’m not tracking anything. She was just supposed to be here.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek and sighs. “Look, I probably should’ve told you she was coming back. Thought about giving you a heads-up. But I didn’t want to lose you.”

I keep my posture relaxed, my tone flat. “You probably would have.”

Robbie’s lips twitch like he doesn’t buy it, but he lets it go.

I grab my bag and head for the door. Almost out. Almost clear.

Then he says, “It was a family thing.”

I pause. Turn back. “What?”

“That’s why she called out. Said it had something to do with her little brother. Some kind of emergency.”

The truth hits me hard. I know her brother, Wesley. He must be a junior in high school by now.

He’s sharp like she is, but he was born early. He spent months in the NICU, small and fragile in ways Quinn never was. Even after he got stronger, there were always complications. The seizures. The heart condition. The way his body never let him feel completely safe in it.

I remember the hospital visits. The middle-of-the-night phone calls. The way Quinn used to balance everything—school, work, life—like she was always bracing for something to go wrong.

She never talked about it much. Not in detail. But I didn’t need the details.

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