Page 71 of Home Coming

Quinn swallowed the coffee he’d had the misfortune of sipping at that very moment.

“Gummies?” he asked.

Any chance his father was speaking about gummy bears? Like the candy. The innocent non-drug-laden kind…

“Pot gummies. They’re really helping your father sleep at night. It’s like a miracle,” his mom explained.

“Where are you getting them?” Quinn choked out.

“The pot store that opened next to the bar. Didn’t you see it when you were here?” she asked.

“I think it might have opened after he left. Remember? We went after we got back from the cruise and they told us they hadn’t even been open a week yet,” his father pointed out.

“You’re right.” His mother nodded.

Gone was the feeling of familiarity. His old home might have looked normal inside at first glance but just beneath, everything was upside down. He felt like an alien in his own house.

The late breakfast had been good but after this conversation he could use a drink. Besides, he needed to catch up with Mark. Hopefullyhewas still the same. Normal right now would be good. After a quick text exchange they decided to meet at the Muddy River Inn.

With Carter on duty behind the bar and Quinn and Mark perched on matching ripped vinyl barstools it did seem normal—if he ignored the pot shop that had indeed opened next door.

Putting his father’s new gummy habit out of his mind, he turned to Mark.

“So it’s been eventful around here,” Quinn began.

Mark let out a snort. “You can say that again.”

“When Josie emailed that you had a night patrol stationed outside our house I came home intent on asking you why.” The internet had crapped out before he’d had a chance to email Mark and ask. Then things got crazy over there and Bailey’s tour started… At least he was here now.

“Then you got home and saw why?” Mark suggested.

Quinn bobbed his head. “Pretty much.”

“She’s a star, man.” Mark laughed.

“So I’ve heard.”

“I’ll admit I was wondering why they were still hanging around the house when Bailey was across the country. Then I did a little digging into the old internet archives and figured it out. They were waiting around for you, the mysterious bodyguard. You’d gone MIA.” Mark shot him a knowing glance.

He certainly had. He guessed leaving the house at zero dark thirty to make the first flight of the day out of Albany had been good for something. No surprise they couldn’t find him. The team had gone wheels up just days after he’d landed in California.

His being out of the country must have driven the reporters nuts. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that.

“So they figured out where Bailey was staying and just descended?” Quinn asked. “Because it seemed pretty calm around here when I left.”

“It was, until that next song released.”

He hated to admit his lack of information but he had no choice. “I’m a little out of the loop. Comms were…limited.”

“No doubt. And I won’t ask where because you won’t tell me but can I say, man, you have the coolest job.”

“Thank you. I agree. So the song…” Quinn prompted his friend.

“So it all started when she released the next song,” Mark began.

“Wasn’t just the song,” Carter said, emerging from the kitchen with a basket of fries he delivered to the guy seated at the end of the bar. “They’d already spotted Bailey in the city without you so the questions and the theories were flying. Where were you? Did you break up? What had happened? Why did she have this old dude as a bodyguard now?”

He pushed down the satisfaction he’d felt when he’d seen that picture of theold dudeand tried to concentrate on Carter’s explanation.

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