Page 50 of The Fire We Crave

She huffs and shakes her head. “Not really. Ember dropped by with cupcakes, and Dawn gave me a bottle of champagne. It was nice and quiet.”

“I’m officially too fucking old for you.”

Quinn stands. “Stay there. I’m going to get a few things.”

“Take the key, it’s on the table.”

I wonder if the conversation about our ages made her leave. Melody was older than Quinn. She was eighteen and I was nearly twenty-one. Three years in your thirties is nothing, but three years between twenty-one and eighteen seemed scandalous.

At least, Melody and Quinn’s parents seemed to think so.

Melody used to joke it was only two years and however many months it was.

But her parents? They’d say why is the older guy hanging around all the time? Isn’t it weird he wants to hang out with you? They turned it into something ugly when it wasn’t.

But now, the seven years between Quinn and I don’t seem quite so fucking awful, even though I’m still too old for her.

There’s a loud bang outside, and I guess someone is setting off fireworks. A fucking terrible idea, given how dry the summer has been. But I can’t bring myself to get up and go outside to make sure they’re being set off safely and responsibly.

It takes a while, but when the door finally opens and Quinn returns, her arms are full.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and can’t help but stare at the way her sundress dances around her thighs.

“You wearing panties beneath that dress?” I ask.

“You’re too drunk to be asking me that question. Here, I made you toast. They didn’t have any nice bread, so you got what they had. But you need to sober up.”

I pout, sticking out my lower lip. “What if I don’t want to sober up? What if I want to stay drunk so I don’t have to take accountability for anything?”

She hands me the plate. “Then I’d ask you how that’s going for you. Because I’m pretty sure being drunk has made it harder to ignore the things on your mind rather than making it easier.”

The toast smells amazing, better than all the fancy barbecue crap I ate earlier. “Fair.”

I take a bite, and the buttery toast feels like comfort. I chew slowly as I take in everything else she’s busy laying out. There are two large bottles of water placed next to the bed, along with a bottle of some kind of painkiller. A large plastic bowl from who-the-fuck knows where, scissors, a large, thick black garbage bag, and some tape.

“Are you about to kill me and bury me in the dirt?”

“Eat,” she says.

I do as she says and finish both slices of toast. “Feel like I could eat all that again.”

“Now drink some water and take two of those.”

I think about what Atom said about liking it when Ember plays nurse. “You want to role-play being my nurse?”

She shakes her head. “I want to role-play keeping you alive and not letting you choke on your vomit. Will that do?”

“Spoilsport,” I say, tipping two of the pills into my hand. I chug them back with a large swallow of water. Then another.

Fuck, the water tastes good.

I’m about to tip the bottle back again when Quinn takes it from me. “Small sips. You’re gonna make yourself throw up if you keep drinking it so fast.” She screws the lid back on the bottle, and I feel like a naughty five-year-old caught drinking milk straight from the carton.

“Sorry, Mom,” I say.

Quinn rolls her eyes, but there’s humor in them. “Now stand up and take your shirt off.”

“Yes, the getting-naked part of the day. Perfect.” I flip my shirt over my head and go to pull down my boxer briefs.

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