Page 45 of Hard Hitter

His mother held the door open and ushered them into the new, clean living room where they all took seats; Rae and Quinn on the sofa, Molly across from them in a matching overstuffed chair.

"Good to see you two are still together," his mother said, as her gaze traveled between the couple sitting on the sofa.

Quinn and Rae exchanged brief and awkward looks, letting out uncomfortable laughter.

"We weren't-"

"I mean, we were together a lot, but-"

"Andnow- um- well-"

"We were always friends," Rae stated, and they settled with that. Their friendship had come first, and it was something Quinn felt they both valued above whatever else may have happened between them. It was probably the best way to put it without having to get into theWhat Are We Nowdiscussion.

Molly eyed them with a curious smile. "Well, you could've fooled me."

Another awkward laugh in each other's direction told Quinn they were likely thinking the same thing:If everyone else had seen it, why hadn't they done anything about it before now?

"I remember the first time you came over here to see Quinn," Molly mused. "You were both so little. Six? Seven?"

"Seven," said Quinn, looking curiously at his mother. "You actually remember that?" He'd always had the impression his mom was too high or simply didn't care to notice what was going on in his life.

"Of course," Molly said, then turned toward Rae. "Your dad drove a black BMW. I thought it was some government lawyer or someone coming to ask around. But instead a little blond girl came up to the door and asked if my son could go swimming with her and her family at their country club."

Quinn and Rae exchanged grins at the memory. Quinn said, "I had no idea what a country club was, but it was like a hundred degrees and swimming sounded like a good option."

"I saw the car and heard the words 'country club' and thought, 'hey, my son got in with the right people on his own'," Molly said. "After that I didn't worry too much about where you were going when you snuck out."

This new information rolled around in Quinn's head for a few moments. He wasn't sure when he'd taken Rae's hand in his again but was suddenly hyper-aware of her presence as she rubbed her thumb back and forth across his knuckles.

Where would he have been without her? Who would he have been friends with? Before she came along he had been an angry kid. He got into fights and was called into the principal's office a few times a week. The teachers and other school staff had labeled him "troubled" and he'd received several home visits from concerned staff members.

There had been people throughout his life who had looked out for him in ways that his mother never had. Teachers who had taken a particular liking to him, coaches, school social workers. But what Rae and her family had done almost seemed like too much. She had insisted on being his friend- for some reason. Mr. DeRose never asked too many questions, but Quinn had always suspected he knew on some level what he was dealing with at home. Regardless, he'd made it clear that their house was always open if he needed it.

That day Rae had showed up on his doorstep asking him to go swimming only a few days after her birthday party, he'd been in shock. When Mr. DeRose had insisted on giving him a ride home from the beach, refusing to let him walk home in the dark, Quinn was sure someone who could affordthatbirthday party andthoseclothes andthatcar wouldn't want to be his best friend once they saw the run-down little structure he called his home.

But she had shown up. She could have asked any of her friends to go with her that day, but she had picked him. And then she continued to pick him after that day.

Quinn looked at Rae, sitting there on the sofa next to him, and suddenly felt so overcome with gratitude. She had done everything for him just by choosing to be his friend. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, shower her with kisses, and never stop giving her any and everything she wanted or needed or asked for.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Rae asked, a curious smile on her face.

Quinn cleared the lump in his throat and shook his head, "Just thinking about how lucky it was that I went to the beach on your seventh birthday."

Rae's smile brightened and she leaned into him. Quinn put his arm around her and planted a kiss on top of her head.

He looked across to his mom. The woman who had failed him in so many ways. He was a long way from forgiveness, but in this moment he wondered if he would have connected with Rae on the same level if he hadn't been so lonely. If her bright, sunny persona would have attracted him so much if he hadn't been starving for some light in his life. Would he have valued her friendship as much? Would he have allowed himself to see what kind of person she was if he hadn't needed a friend back then?

Clearing his throat again he asked, "So… when did you decide to get sober?"

Molly smiled, eyes tearing up again, and she wiped away the tears before they could fall onto her cheeks. She stood up and gestured toward the hall. "Come on, I have something to show you."

There were three doors down the hallway and Molly pushed open the door that led to Quinn's old bedroom. The last time he had been in this room was to pack the rest of his things after coming home for a couple of weeks during the summer before his sophomore year of college. The paint on the walls had been peeling, the carpet was worn and scratchy, and the furniture was all second-hand from Goodwill or Salvation Army. He'd still had a twin bed even though he'd outgrown it in high school- his feet would just hang off the end. His wooden ceilingfan was old and squeaked, and there had been a Detroit Tigers poster on the wall his bed was pushed against.

Despite the changes to the rest of the house, Quinn still found himself expecting to see the exact same space he'd left behind. Untouched. It would make sense that his mom would have ignored his room just as much as she had seemed to ignore his own existence.

He was wrong.

The bedroom had not only been repainted, it had new floors and new furniture. Even the window he'd snuck in and out of so many times looked new. But the thing that really caught his attention was the long wall that had once sported his only piece of personal touch. In place of the Tigers poster, the wall now featured a poster of him in his white and blue LA uniform, along with all of his jerseys. His number seven Traverse City Trojans jersey, the number twenty-one he'd worn for the Arizona Sun Devils, and his number twelves for both Atlanta, whom he'd been drafted by right out of college, and of course his current team in Los Angeles.

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