Page 71 of Good Graces

I read it again. And again. Until the words blur, like maybe I’ve conjured them up by sheer force of will. Because Quinn doesn’t ask for things. Not like this. She’s too stubborn, too proud. She always leaves first. Always makes sure she’s the one walking away.

But here she is, offering me the chance to hurt her first.

I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if this is about closure or second chances or something else entirely. But I do know this: whatever she’s offering, I’m not strong enough to turn it down.

Warren

now?

Quinn

it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. what do you think this is, mercer? a booty call?

I snort, dragging a hand down my face. Only Quinn could drop something that heavy and follow it up with a joke like it’s no big deal.

Warren

then when?

Quinn

tomorrow. our field with the pretty blue flowers. around noon? you know the one x

I know it. A stretch of grass and wildflowers, a small pond tucked past the tree line where the fireflies hovered like embers. Where we lay on our backs and whispered under the stars like the world had gone quiet just for us.

Where we slept together for the first time.

Warren

yeah. I’ll be there

* * *

The phone is ringingwhen I wake up. Loud, jarring, vibrating against my nightstand like it’s got a personal vendetta. I blink at the screen, still half dreaming, half-convinced I’ve been imagining things since—

Dad. Dad. Dad.

My stomach twists.

I let it ring once, twice, three times. Just long enough to consider ignoring it, long enough to remember that ignoring him never works. He just keeps calling, keeps wearing me down until I break.

I grope for the phone and hit Accept, voice still rough with sleep. “Yeah?”

“Warren? Jesus Christ, finally.”

I sit up straighter, dread settling low in my gut. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come down here.”

“What happened?” I ask, already swinging my legs over the side of the bed, pulling on yesterday’s jeans.

“It’s—it’s the staff, alright? They’re trying to screw me over again. Bunch of goddamn crooks, I swear to God. They’re threatening to call the cops if I don’t calm down, and—hell, I’m calm, Warren. I’m so fucking calm. But they’re pushing me. Trying to make me out like I’m the one causing problems when I’m just—damn it. You just need to come down here.”

I shove my feet into my sneakers. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he snaps, like I’ve got no reason to ask. “They’re just—look, can you just get here?”

“I’m on my way,” I mutter, already grabbing my keys.

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