Chapter fifteen: Quinn

Chapter Fifteen

Quinn

Two weeks later…

I stretch my arms out in front of me, slowly rolling my wrist. It’s aching today, and I forgot my wrist brace at home. I remembered my posture brace, at least, and stand for the first time in hours to get it from my bag.

My office is warm today from having multiple computers running and my door closed. I found a snag in the software design and have been pulling my hair out all day trying to fix it. I think I’m the only one left in the office. Opening my office door, I twist my hair into a bun and use a pen to secure it on the top of my head. Grabbing the posture brace, I unbutton my blouse and take it off, tossing it in my oversized purse. I’m wearing a sheer white cami underneath, so it’s not like I’m just sitting in here in just a bra. I slip the brace on and sit back at my computer, feeling a bit better to have my shoulders held back into place.

As soon as I sit down, the nausea I’ve felt all day hits me hard. I get up to get some water, and as soon as I set foot out of the office, I run into Jacob.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks with a smile. And then his eyes drop to my chest. The brace smooshes my breasts together and up, working better than a pushup bra. If only I could hide it under clothes…

“Working. But what are you doing here?”

“Same thing. Well, kind of. I had to pick up files to sign off on.”

I casually pull up the collar of my cami, trying to cover my breasts as much as possible. “You should have asked me. I could have dropped them off to you. I go by your office on my way home.”

“Yeah, I thought about it, but wasn’t sure if your boyfriend would be mad.”

I let out a snort. “Archer isn’t my boyfriend.” Anger surges through me, but I should be proud. It’s the first time in two weeks I’ve said his name without sneering. Though, I really shouldn’t be mad, right?

There was no promise of commitment. My feelings for him stemmed from a teenage crush and it was my own naivety to think sleeping together would make him suddenly love me.

“Oh, you two looked, uh, close?”

I wave my hand in the air. “I’ve known Archer for years.” A twist of nausea hits me, and I put my hand over my stomach, grimacing.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think all the coffee I’ve been chugging is finally catching up with me.”

He laughs. “I’ve been there. So, since you’re not dating the doctor…”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Please don’t ask me out.

Jacob shuffles closer. “I know it’s only Monday and things come up, but do you want to grab dinner Friday?”

“Oh,” I start, and watch the hope rise in his eyes. Dammit. “I’m going to my parents’ this weekend. I haven’t seen my nephew in a while.”

“Right. I forgot about that. It’s nice you do that. Is Daisy still out of the picture?”

“Thankfully, which might sound awful to say.”

Jacob’s face softens. I’m not interested in dating him anymore, but it’s nice to have someone who knows my family history to talk to.

“I don’t think it’s awful. She’s the awful one. I mean, who can just walk away from their family like that?”

“She’s got major issues. The only reason I hope she shows her sorry ass is so she can get served with divorce papers.” I shake my head, feeling sorry for Wes. “Anyway, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday for that meeting.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe we can grab lunch.”

“I think we can do that.” I smile, already knowing Marissa will tag along and keep it from feeling anything like a date.

*

I fall into bed as soon as I walk through the door of my room. “I’m literally dying,” I grumble to the cats, who followed me in wondering why the hell I went in here and not the kitchen. “Feed yourselves.”

It’s Friday and I just got in from the office. I have a laundry list of stuff to do before driving down to Eastwood, but this week has killed me. I pulled a late night at the office Monday and was so tired by Tuesday it physically hurt to keep my eyes open. I crashed on the couch when I came home and was in bed by eight-thirty. Wednesday wasn’t much better, and I was cramping so bad from my impending period I didn’t have much of an appetite. I think the lack of food furthered my exhaustion and coupled with the stress of this project that I finally figured out today, I’m just done.

I lazily strip out of my office attire and snuggle into bed. Not meaning to fall asleep, I feel a bit of panic when I wake up about an hour later. Shit. I sit up too fast and get hit with dizziness. Rubbing my eyes, I force myself up, chug some water to try and feel better, and get a move on.

“Sorry, guys,” I say to the cats. Going as fast as I can, I feed them, set cans out on the counter to make it easier for Marie, my neighbor who comes and feeds them when I’m out of town. I quickly pack a bag, make my bed, and try to muster up the energy to vacuum. I’m not a neat freak or anything, but I like things to be tidy when I come home after a weekend away.

There are dishes in the sink, but I don’t want to load them in the dishwasher and leave it running after I leave just in case it leaks or something weird. I pull on my pink rubber gloves and turn on the water to hand wash what’s in there.

The smell of my yogurt bowl from this morning makes me gag. It hasn’t spoiled or anything, yet that fruity scent is sickening. I turn my head and inhale, trying not to breathe as I scrub out the bowl. I’m feeling so sick by the time I finish the dishes, I’m worried I came down with the flu. I crawl to the couch and curl up, closing my eyes for just a minute.

Half an hour later, my phone rings. I sit up, blinking, realizing I fell asleep again. I don’t feel nauseous anymore at least. I grab my phone and answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” Mom says. “Are you still coming? I haven’t heard from you and you’re usually getting here around now. I saved a plate of dinner for you.”

“Yeah.” I sit up, blinking rapidly to try to force my eyes to focus. “I’m leaving here in a minute. I fell asleep on the couch. It’s been a long week.”

“You’re not too tired to drive, are you? Should you stay home and come in the morning?”

“I’m okay. I’ll regret it in the morning and wish I’d left tonight. I’ll swing by Starbucks on the way. I’ll grab my stuff, say bye to the cats, and be out of here in ten minutes.”

“Be safe, honey. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

I hang up, grab everything I need and haul it to the door and say goodbye to the cats, who are more interested in the handful of treats I scattered on the kitchen floor before making my exit.

I wait until I’m out of the city to get coffee and sing along to the radio to help keep myself awake. As much as I love my loft, there’s something so comforting about my childhood bedroom. We moved into the old house when I was twelve, and back then it was in really rough shape. It scared me at first, and Logan and Owen had fun telling me how haunted the place was. Obviously, it doesn’t scare me anymore, but I still think it’s haunted. The ghost is friendly at least and I’m pretty sure her name is Anna Beth. Or at least that’s what the spirit board told me one night when I was sixteen.

By the time I pull into my parents’ driveway, I have to pee so bad it’s not funny. I’m already strategizing where to park, how I’ll only grab my purse, and then run straight to the bathroom. There’s another car in my spot, one I don’t recognize right away. Then I get closer, and I know exactly who that Jeep belongs to.

Archer Jones.