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I flip the channel to something else and sink further into the couch. The anxiety creeps in as my mind replays the words the sports analyst said about me. Washed up. Already past his prime. Could’ve been special. The last one hurts the most. How was I not special? What was I supposed to do? I took my team to the playoffs every year and won the championship. Football is a team sport, not a me sport. I can’t do it all.
The doorbell rings, saving me from flipping back to the sports coverage. Before I can make it to the door, the bell chimes again and I groan. “Wh—” I say as I open it but stop. “Why’d you knock?” I ask Quinn as I step aside.
“I wasn’t sure you were home.”
“Ah, the car’s in the garage. Peyton’s been getting deliveries, and I didn’t want to worry about someone coming down that incline and smacking into it. What’s up?”
“Not much. I was in the area.”
He’s lying. We live out of the way from where he lives, works, and plays. But, if he says he was in the area, who am I to say otherwise.
“Want something to drink?”
He nods and follows me into the kitchen and heads right to the refrigerator. I don’t care if Quinn helps himself. Sometimes he can be really introverted and it’s like taking a bone from a dog to get him to open up.
“Where’s Peyton?”
“She took Stevie Nicks to the park with your mom and Ollie.”
Quinn grabs a bottle of soda and sits down at the island. I stand on the other side, waiting to see if he’s going to open up or if we’re just going to hang. I’m honestly good with either.
“I think I might miss the births of my nieces or nephews.” He sounds distraught. I didn’t think this would be something that mattered to him.
“Oh?”
He nods. “The tour. It’s going to be for six months, I think. And it’s going to start in September.”
“What’s Elle doing?”
“Uh . . .” Quinn runs his hand over his beanie. He’s so much like Harrison, it’s uncanny. “I think she said something about taking her last semester off.”
“Trimester,” I say, correcting him. “Pregnancies are tracked in trimesters.” This is probably more information than he needs to know, but at least when Nola and he decide to have a baby, he’ll be ready.
“Oh, right.” He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a drink. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“You knew with my sister that she was the one, right?”
“I did. Are you thinking Nola isn’t the one?”
Quinn shakes his head. “No, but I wonder if I’m her one. Something’s off and it has been for a while, but she’s my first real girlfriend and I don’t know if I’m just looking too deeply into things or what.”
“Maybe she’s just under a lot of pressure from school.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. I’ve told her she doesn’t need her masters, but I also understand her need to be independent. Depending on someone isn’t exactly . . . I don’t know what word I’m looking for.”
“I know what you mean. And I gather from the last time she was here, she’s not excited about the tour?”
Quinn shakes his head again, but this time he’s looking at me and his movements are much, much slower. “She’s pissed, actually. I guess I didn’t ask her and assumed she would go. She wants to spend time at home, which I get. I’m sure she’s homesick. I’ve suggested her parents come out here, but I don’t think they like me much.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because when I offered for us to go out there, she said it would be better if she went alone.”
“Oh.” Now that he’s said this, I believe Peyton or Elle may have mentioned it. “Well, they’re being ridiculous.”
Quinn chuckles a bit. “I’m sure I’m not the picture they had in mind when their daughter brought someone home. They’re definitely prim and proper. Her brother wears a suit every day, and her sister is the lovely housewife, raising babies. According to Nola, she should’ve been married by now.”
