Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

QUINN

"You cannot be serious right now."

Hayes shrugs like it's no big deal. "It's fixed."

"I can see that. I just…" I put my hands on my hips. "How the hell did you do this?"

"I went to the shop and paid for it and the guy handed me the keys and then I drove it here last night."

I thought his SUV sounded a little loud coming up the driveway, but I was so excited to see him that I didn't even give it a second thought. Now I'm thinking I should have.

I glare at him. "You know exactly what I mean. They've been running me around for the last two months. How did you get them to actually work on it?"

He points to himself. "Big scary hockey player." He turns his finger to me. "Pint-sized grown woman wearing fish-stick earrings."

I finger the jewelry hanging from my ear—the top half is a fish, the bottom is a tree branch. "How dare you insult these beauties!"

"They're hideous."

"I like them," Flora says as she runs her hands over Pickles's back. The two are so attached to one another that Flora can bring her outside and the cat doesn't even try to run. She's too busy being in love with the kid.

I give Hayes a look that says, See? She gets it. He rolls his eyes.

"This is too much," I tell him. "At least let me pay you back."

"No."

"Hayes."

"No," he repeats.

I stomp my foot. "Fine. Then take it out of my salary."

"I'll get right on that."

But he says it in a way that most certainly tells me he will not be doing so.

"Fine. Then I'm driving to Thanksgiving dinner and I'm using my card to fill up the gas tank."

"Fine."

He marches over to the SUV that, only if the information were tortured out of me, I'd admit I'm going to miss driving around and pulls Flora's booster seat from the back, then buckles it into the back of my cherry-red VW Bug.

He nods toward my car. "Get in, kid. Don't want to be late for dinner."

She picks up the cat. "Pickles loves Thanksgiving. She's so excited to eat turkey."

"You're not bringing the cat."

"But Mrs. Bess said I could."

"She did not."

"Actually," I interject, "she did. In fact, she said, ‘Now you make sure to bring Pickles to dinner. I want to snuggle that sweet little baby.'"

It's a lie. I was the one who told Flora my mother said she could bring the cat, mostly because I know my mother won't care at all if she brings Pickles along.

Hayes huffs. "Then bring the damn cat. But we have to go, especially if we're stopping for gas."

"And dessert," I call over the hood of the car as I make my way to the driver's side.

"What dessert?"

"Cookies," I explain as I take my spot behind the wheel.

He looks completely confused but opens the door for Flora—and Pickles—then climbs in behind us. He doesn't say anything else until we stop in front of George's.

"You're kidding me."

I shrug as I parallel park the Bug effortlessly. "Trust me, this is exactly what she expects."

"For you to bring someone else's cookies into her home for Thanksgiving dinner when she's been sweating over the stove all morning?"

"Yep."

"You're horrible." He pouts in the front seat as I exit the car and run inside George's.

"You fixed it!" the old man calls from behind the counter as I run toward the back.

"Hayes did!"

I snatch up a box of butterscotch cookies, then think better of it and grab two because I just know it's going to be a long day. When my mother found out Hayes hasn't had a proper Thanksgiving in far too long, she was not having it. She insisted he and Flora come to ours, and I won't lie, it made me love her even more. They both deserve this, to have some good homecooked food and to feel my mother's love.

"How'd he do it?" George asks as I approach the counter, but not before tossing a bag of butterscotch candies onto the cookies.

"Apparently," I say as I dig through my purse for the wallet I know I shoved in there, "he used his big, broad muscles that look far too good in a shirt and threatened them or something."

George doesn't say anything, which is incredibly unusual. I peek up to find him staring down at me, his bushy white brows nearly kissing his hairline.

"What?" I hand my card over. "Can I get some cash back too? Twenty bucks in small bills. I owe Flora five dollars because I bet her uncle would cave and let her bring Pickles to dinner."

He still doesn't say anything. He doesn't even move to grab my card. He just stares.

"Uh, Earth to George." I wave my hand in front of his face. "You're not having a stroke, are you?"

The side of his mouth kicks up into a grin. "You're playing house with him."

I jerk my head back. "Excuse me?"

"The hockey player. You're playing house with him, aren't you?"

I scowl. "No. Now ring me up, old man."

Slowly, he grabs the cookies, running them under the scanner. "You're lying, kid. To me, and to yourself."

"I am not."

But the words don't come out as strong as I hoped they would. Is he right? Am I playing house with Flora and Hayes? I know the lines are a little blurry given what's going on with Hayes and me, but do I look at us like we're one big happy family ?

Yes.

They're coming to Thanksgiving with me, for fuck's sake. I mean, sure, that was mostly my mother's doing, but I didn't even try to fight her when she suggested it. In fact, I was thrilled by the idea of bringing someone to dinner for the first time, having someone there just for me because they're mine.

Shit.

George is right. I'm playing house with Hayes and Flora.

And I think I wish it wasn't playing anymore.

"Whatever," I mumble, grabbing my stuff and heading out the door before he analyzes me any more. "Happy Thanksgiving!" I call over my shoulder.

"Quinn! We aren't done talking about this!"

"Yes we are!" I say back, running out of the store and straight to the car.

"You good?" Hayes asks as I hand him the cookies, completely out of breath.

"Yep."

But I'm not good. I'm not good at all.

"Are you nervous?"

I nod, blowing out a heavy breath as I stare at the lilac-painted door, the same color that welcomes you to B's Bakes. My mother's favorite, as Hayes will soon find out.

"To visit my family? Always."

I'm always on edge when we have family dinners, but today my nerves are extra frayed. It's all George's fault, that grouchy old man I love so dearly. He had to go and get all in my head about "playing house" with Hayes and Flora, and all I did on the ride over here was overanalyze absolutely every last second of the past two months.

Am I spending more time with them than I realized? Yes. Would I rather spend my off days hanging out and doing something with them than going somewhere on my own? Yeah. Is there a chance I'm inserting myself into their lives so deeply that when this is all over, I'm going to be irrevocably changed and completely crushed? Absolutely.

Yet I can't find it in me to stop. I love Flora. Being with her is the highlight of my day. I drop her off at school with a frown and pick her up with a smile, so excited to get to spend more time with her.

And Hayes? Well, it's safe to say I am immensely enjoying my time with him. Perhaps a little too much. We've gone from stolen nights to spending our time without Flora together doing the most mundane things like building a swing set and painting Flora's room a pretty blush and even doing laundry together. It's so…normal. And not at all like two people who swore it was just sex and nothing else.

"I thought you loved your mother," Hayes says, pulling me out of my head.

"Oh, I do. Very much so. My father too. It's my siblings that are the nightmare."

"That bad?"

He doesn't even know. Well, maybe he does a little since he has an awful brother too. It's not that my siblings are truly awful people. They have their faults, sure, but at their roots they're good. I think they just forget about being good where I'm concerned.

"Can I press the button now?" Flora asks, Pickles tucked safely in her arms.

"Just a minute."

I draw in another breath, then release it slowly, feeling Hayes's eyes on me the whole time. I'm sure it probably seems like I'm blowing this out of proportion, but he doesn't know what it's like to be the screwup in a family full of otherwise perfect children. I'd like to believe they're going to be on their best behavior with Hayes here, but I know they'll still take jabs at me. They might be jabs only I'll understand, but they'll hurt all the same.

"Whenever you're ready," Hayes says soothingly.

I nod. "I'm ready. "

"You sure?"

"Yep. Let's do this. Flora, go ahead."

I'm sure my mother will have something to say about how family doesn't have to ring the bell, but Flora loved the idea so much, so she's going to have to live with it. As we wait, I work through the breathing exercises I learned during that one yoga class I took.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

In through your ? —

Then I'm not breathing at all. Instead, I'm looking down, down, down to where Hayes has taken my hand in his, his long fingers curling between mine. He squeezes once, twice, then three times, and my worries slowly slip away. My shoulders relax and my breathing goes back to normal, not forced. It's like a weight has been lifted, and I have him to thank.

"I'm here," he whispers so low only I can hear.

I smile up at him, having no doubt he means it. He didn't let the body shop bully me around. He's certainly not going to let my family do it.

The front door clicks open, and I drop his hand, shuffling an inch away and trying to make it look as natural as possible, but it doesn't matter. My mother isn't looking at me. She's beaming down at Flora and Pickles.

"Oh my goodness! You brought a cat! "

"Wait," Hayes says. "I thought?—"

"Just like you requested, Mom," I say, stepping forward and widening my eyes, hoping she'll understand.

She nods. "That's right. I did ask to meet this adorable, lovely little thing. And the cat too, of course." She winks at Flora.

The kid giggles. "You already know me, Mrs. Bess." She holds the cat up. "This is Pickles. She's my best friend." Flora looks back at me. "Sorry, Just Quinn."

I grin. "That's okay. I'll allow it. Pickles is awfully cute."

"She is." She thrusts the cat toward my mother. "You want to hold her?"

"You know what? I do, but not right now. I've got some potatoes on the stove that need stirring and a turkey that needs basting. Can I hold her later?"

Flora nods. "I'll allow it."

My mother chuckles as she rises back up to her full height, smiling over at me and Hayes. "I'm so glad you came, though you could have just walked in."

Knew that was coming.

She waves us inside. "Come on in. Everyone else is already here."

Great. Even though I made sure we left ten minutes earlier than we needed to, I still managed to somehow be late. Can't wait to hear my siblings get on me for that.

We follow my mother inside, taking our shoes off by the door, and I watch as Hayes takes the house in. It's nearly the same size as his, but he's looking at it like it's a mansion or something, and I wonder if he thinks this is where I grew up.

"My parents moved here about two years ago," I tell him. "I grew up in a small town on the Peninsula."

"Gosh, I miss that house sometimes," Mom says. "Don't get me wrong, I love this one, but that one just had a coziness to it, you know? It was well loved."

"Small. She means small. I lived in the attic until I was fifteen."

"Because you chose to, Quinn Penelope."

Hayes smirks at me. "Penelope?"

"What? It's better than Adam Carlisle Hayes. I mean, you're named after a vampire doctor."

He rolls his eyes, and I stick my tongue out at him.

"This," my mother says, stopping at the hall closet door, "is my favorite piece of the house. I wanted to bring a bit of the old into the new and made poor Chuck pull it off the hinges and bring it with us."

She opens the door—also lilac—and proudly shows off the scratches on the inside, each one marking a different kid's height over the years. I don't miss his rough swallow as he takes it in. He hasn't gone deep into the particulars of what his home life was like, but I've surmised enough to know it wasn't anything like mine, and he certainly didn't have his parents marking his growth when he was younger.

"Can you guess which one was Quinn?"

"Well, considering it hasn't moved in twelve years, I'm guessing that one." He points at the line that is indeed mine.

"I swear I ate all my vegetables."

"That's a lie. I saw you put your Brussels sprouts in your napkin at our last family dinner."

I shrug. "Not all of them. I ate…two."

My mother shakes her head, waving us forward. "Come meet my other kids. They can't believe the Adam Hayes is having dinner with us."

I bet they can't. I guarantee each of them has charged their cell phones to the max and are ready to take pictures to post all over social media. I bet we don't even get the turkey carved before someone is asking for free tickets to a game. It's the thing they do with Brody. I'm sure they're proud of him in their own way, but they're mostly worried about what Brody can do for them, not what they can do to show up for him.

I wish he were here. He'd get the biggest kick out of me bringing Hayes to dinner.

"Chuck!" Mom calls as we enter the kitchen that has more lilac items spread around it. From the mixer to the custom-painted fridge, the color is everywhere. "Get your dang fingers out of that pumpkin pudding!"

"Sorry, sorry." My dad scoots away, holding his hands up as my mother swats at him. He catches sight of me, Hayes, and Flora and grins. "Quinnicorn!" He wraps me in his arms. "Good to see you, kid."

"Hi, Dad." I hug him tightly, then step back and point to Hayes. "This is Adam Hayes, my boss ."

Hayes coughs loudly, side-eyeing me because he's certainly not just my boss . He extends his hand to my father.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"Ah, no sirs. Just Chuck. I understand you prefer Hayes?"

"Please. I've never been a fan of Adam."

That's a lie. He likes Adam just fine when I'm screaming it.

I push that thought away. No sense in getting worked up with family around.

I point to Flora, who is trying to hide behind Hayes's leg. "And this is Flora."

"Flora. Oh, I've heard so much about you, little flower."

Her eyes widen. "That's what Just Quinn calls me."

"She does? Well, ain't that something. Say, is that a cat you're holding? "

"This is Pickles. Do you want to hold her, Just Chuck?"

My dad laughs at the name. "You bet I do! Come on. Let's go meet my grandkids. I think you're going to like them."

Dad takes Flora's hand—which she's surprisingly okay with—and leads her into the family room, which I have no doubt my nieces and nephews are having the time of their lives tearing up.

"Mom, do you need any help?" I ask her. She's already back at the stove, stirring this and mixing that.

" You're offering to help? Considering I'd like to eat sometime today, I don't think that's such a good idea, Quinny ."

I groan inwardly as Matthew walks into the kitchen, a beer in his hand. I have no problem with Hayes calling me Quinny —in fact I love it—but when one of my siblings does it? I loathe it. It's always so…condescending.

"Matthew. Hi."

"Hey, little sis. Want to introduce me to your friend?"

I feel Hayes step up behind me, his warmth spreading over me. He extends his hand over my shoulder, brushing up against me in a way that appears innocent yet is anything but.

"Hayes. "

I see Hayes's forearm muscles tense with how hard he shakes Mathew's hand, and I can't help but smile when my brother winces a little.

"Seattle Serpents, right? Heard you're kicking ass this year. You're what? Second overall?"

"I have no clue. I don't pay any attention."

Matthew laughs heartily. "Right, right. Sure you don't." He winks like it's some big joke, but I know otherwise. Hayes really doesn't pay attention to the standings like that, especially this early in the season. "Say, you ever need someone to come keep my sister and your niece company at the games, I'm always available."

Wow. That was fast.

Hayes gives him a tight-lipped smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

He won't.

"Hayes, dear, would you like something to drink?"

"I can grab him something, Mom." He gives Hayes the same slimy grin I bet he gives all his clients who pay him way too much money. "Guess Quinny left all her manners at the door." He rolls his eyes as he turns to the fridge. "What's your poison?"

"I'd like to poison him," Hayes murmurs into my ear.

I stifle a laugh—barely.

"Water is fine, thank you. "

Matthew grabs two from the fridge—one flavored and one not—and hands them over to us before leading us into the dining room where the rest of my siblings are gathered. On the way, Hayes takes the plain water from my hand, trading it out for the flavored one my brother handed him. I smile up at him, making a mental note to kiss him extra long later for the gesture.

Hayes meets the rest of my family, all of them somehow managing to sneak in a way to ask for free stuff within the first sentences spoken to him. All the while, Hayes sits by my side, his knee pressed tightly against mine under the table. Tension rolls off him in waves, and I know him well enough to know there are so many things he wants to say to each of them, but he's biting his tongue.

When my mother announces that dinner is ready, I offer to grab Flora and get her washed up. Truthfully, I just need a break. If I have to hear one more time about how perfect Liza's, Ruthie's, Daniel's, or Matthew's lives are, I might scream.

"Are you having fun?" I ask Flora as I stand in the hallway while she's rubbing soap all over her hands. "Is everyone being nice?"

"Yes. The one with glasses let me take his turn on the Nintendo. He's nice."

"Good. I'm glad. "

As much as their parents drive me insane, my nieces and nephews are all actually good kids. I guess those nice genes skipped a generation.

Flora rinses the soap off her hands, then dries them, and we reluctantly make our way back to the dining room. I take my place next to Hayes, who eyes me carefully. I send him a smile that says I'm okay , but he looks like he doesn't believe me, and I don't blame him. If I thought sitting through introductions was hard, small talk during dinner always turns into chaos, and I have no doubt this will be the same.

My dad carves the turkey with little fanfare, and we all pass the dishes around. Hayes even skips me when it comes to the Brussels sprouts, and I decide he's getting two extra-long kisses now.

"So, Hayes, how are things? I don't see you at the bakery much anymore."

"Good, Bess. Been trying to feed this kid less sugar."

He ruffles Flora's hair, but she doesn't care. She's busy stuffing her face with my mother's famous mashed potatoes that are perfectly buttered and seasoned.

"You've been staying away too, Quinn."

Because I've been spending all my free time with Hayes.

I shrug. "Sorry. Boss's orders."

My mother huffs like she's offended, but I know she's not. I just hope she doesn't suspect the real reason I haven't been around much lately.

"I take it you're enjoying nannying, then?" she asks.

I nod around a forkful of turkey, chew, and swallow. "Very much so. Flora's the best."

"I love Just Quinn," the kid says, and I swear my heart stops.

It's the first time she's said that to me, and it makes my eyes burn and my chest feel like it weighs a hundred pounds. She loves me?

"I love you too, little flower."

She nods, never once taking her attention off her mashed potatoes. I look over at Hayes, and he's staring down at her too, his eyes wide with surprise. I can't help but wonder how he feels hearing her say that.

Is he upset? Does he care that she's said it to me but not him? Is he worried we're getting too close? If he is, he doesn't say anything, he just takes a bite of his roll and continues with his meal like nothing happened.

Huh.

"Well, I bet you're glad I had the idea now, aren't you?" My mom reaches over and squeezes my hand, then winks at me, knowing what a big moment that just was.

"I am. So much so that I've, uh, been thinking about maybe going back to school. "

It's the first time I've said it out loud. Ever since Auden mentioned it at the family skate, I've been mulling it over, even going so far as to fill out half an application for classes before chickening out and shutting down my laptop entirely.

Matthew's fork clatters to his plate as he sits back and takes a swig of his beer. "Can't wait to hear what this is for now. Let me guess—clown school? Isn't that the only thing you haven't tried yet?"

I want to flip him off so badly, but it's a holiday, and I know my mother would kill me.

Instead, I settle for a glower. "Early childhood development, actually."

"You're kidding. You, a teacher?" This from Liza. She looks at her husband. "Can you believe that?"

He shakes his head.

"You've had one babysitting job and now you think you can be a teacher?" Matthew scoffs. "That's not how it works, Quinny. Teaching is a lot harder than that."

"I know that, Matty . I'm very aware it's different. It's just… Well, I've had so much fun with Flora and seeing her learn new things, so I thought, why not?"

"Why not fly to the moon? Why not go live on Mars? Why not eat ice cream for dinner every night?" Matthew rolls his eyes. "Give me a break. Right, Daniel? "

He shrugs. "I mean, it's kind of your thing, Quinn. You find something you like, then make it your whole personality. Like those stupid earrings of yours."

I clutch the turkey-shaped earring hanging from my right ear. It's not stupid. It's festive. I look at Hayes, but he's still staring down at his plate, and I don't know what hurts more—the fact that he's allowing them to pile on me or that he's staying silent, clearly agreeing with them.

"That's a big decision," Ruthie says. "You need to be really sure before you dive into that."

"I know that. I?—"

"Not to mention how much that's going to cost. Surely you can't afford to go back to school again . You're still paying on your loans from before, aren't you?"

That is true. However, I have what Hayes has paid me so far and then some in my savings account. I could pay off a decent chunk of them now, and when I get the other fifty grand, I can pay the rest.

"Yes, but?—"

"There's always a but with you, Quinny." Matthew scoffs, gulping down his beer.

I get it. I do. I haven't been reliable in the past. I've shirked my responsibilities and have changed what I want to do so many times over. I've thought about this a lot more than any of them realize, though. Being with Flora, teaching her…it's been the most rewarding experience of my life, and I want to help other kids too. I want to show them that someone cares about them. I want them to know they matter.

I want to tell them all of that, but I can't seem to find the words. So I don't. I finish my Thanksgiving dinner in silence, barely touching my favorite meal of the year. All the while, Hayes sits beside me, still not saying anything, and I know without a doubt he's thinking what they've thought all along—I'm not good enough.

For them or for him.

I'm not sure which part of that hurts the most.