As You Turn Away (The Walker Boys) (2 page)

“
Seems
.” Quinn’s mother made a face. “That’s the key word. She doesn’t know
what
she wants.”

“Moira, we’ll talk more about this
after
dinner.” Her father reached over and took her hand, holding on for just long enough to give her hope.

The arrival of her parents’ salads saved Quinn from tears. She ordered quickly so the waiter wouldn’t linger, and watched her mother pick at her food. Once their server brought Quinn her salad, she dug in, enjoying the taste of the crisp lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and dressing marrying together. Eating gave her something to focus on instead of the silence that stretched on until their main courses were brought to the table.

“How was your performance?”

Quinn looked up from pushing her baked spaghetti around on her plate. Her father was actually leaning toward her, as if he wanted to know her answer. With her mother circulating the room, it was just the two of them.

“I think it was really solid.” She took a bite, thinking back to her time in the spotlight. “It means a lot to me that Jonathan trusted me with a solo performance. I’ll find out on Monday what he thought, but I hope I did well enough to please him.”

She didn’t miss the crinkle around her dad’s eyes; those little wrinkles only appeared when he was smiling, or when he was thoughtful. She’d missed them. It was such a small thing, but the gesture reminded her of the dad she’d grown up with, instead of the stranger of the last years. Seeing the glimpse into her past was both a source of hope and an ache for all she’d lost. She knew better than to hope for the same possibility with her mother. Considering her mom cared more about dashing off to cuddle up to every person of influence in the room, Quinn was fairly sure that ship had sailed a long time ago.

“If you did your best, then I’m sure you stunned him. You put such heart into your performances.” A full smile took the place of his earlier stunted expression.

Quinn put down her fork, giving the conversation her entire attention. As impossible as it was to believe, her dad might finally be trying again. Quinn’s departure laid the first bricks in the wall between them, but his words and actions since then had added new layers. After awhile, she’d simply grown too afraid to try to tear it down, leery of what waited on the other side.

“Thanks, Dad.” Quinn felt her throat tighten, and she lowered her head. She heard her father’s intake of air, and glanced at him.

“Quinn.” She nodded at him when he paused, hoping he would continue. “I know all of this—” He gestured around the room, frowning. “I know it makes you feel out of place, but I hope you can understand that there’s more here for you than just social events. There always has been.”

She’d never heard her dad at such a loss for words. He’d been quiet throughout dinner, and now, as she thought about it, for the first time in ages, his manner with his various business acquaintances had been polite but almost impatient. Could he have resented the time it took to talk with them—time he didn’t get to spend with
her
? Was what she’d hoped for so fervently finally a possibility? All she ever wanted was for him to respect her decision to leave. To be in her life, even if she didn’t live with them anymore. To understand her need for a life of her
own
, on her terms.

“There is?” Quinn’s voice trembled around the words. She could have played off the emotion with a cough, or some other excuse; instead, she leaned toward him.

“Well,” her mother’s voice trilled shrilly, “what are you two killjoys up to?”

Quinn went back to her meal, but it had gone cold, and she couldn’t think of anything less appetizing. She kept her head down as her mom noisily took her seat at the table. She hadn’t realized her mother would put on such a performance—flitting from table to table like a hyper butterfly, never pausing long, but making sure her laughter rang out often and loudest. Quinn would have been satisfied if her mother stayed away entirely. She knew her mom saw her flinches and rigid posture when she was around, but Quinn couldn’t help the responses. Her childhood ingrained them within her.

Her dad sat back in his seat, his brows drawing together. “We
were
talking, Moira.”

“I’m sure you were, Clay. You always have so much to say when Quinn isn’t around. So many commentaries on her life. Strange how your opinions change when she’s here.”

Quinn took in her mother’s cutting, triumphant smile, and her father’s stricken expression in fragments that didn’t mean anything. The only thing that penetrated and made any sense was the realization that once again she’d trusted the wrong person. She let herself think that even if her mother didn’t want her in her life, maybe her father did. Quinn stood, shaking off the hand her father reached out to her.

“That’s not true, Quinn. Please, don’t listen to her.”

Quinn jerked away and her chair tilted, then toppled backward. She heard conversations around them taper off as she rushed away, and then in the middle of all the opulence, and gossip, her mother’s voice rising, chasing her. Always chasing her. Always reminding her of her many shortcomings.

“Look what you did now!”

She wasn’t sure who her mom was talking to, and in the end, it didn’t matter. Quinn almost ran through the lobby and outside, where she gulped in the night air greedily. She felt like her skin was crawling from the hours spent
wasted
with her parents, and she couldn’t believe she’d trusted her father for even a minute. How could she have forgotten years of hurt the moment he spoke a kind word to her? Was she that deprived of his love? Was she still looking for his approval, deep down? Hadn’t she given up yet on ever regaining it? He’d made it clear over and over again where he stood when it came to her, and somehow she’d forgotten that tonight.

All she wanted was to be on a plane back home.

Instead, as her father’s car stopped near her, Quinn pulled back her shoulders and got in, knowing that the best answer was to follow through with the promise she’d made, and get this nightmare over as soon as possible. She twisted, trying to find the seat belt buckle as her dad merged onto the highway.

“…can’t believe you made such a scene!”

“If you were more of a husband, I wouldn’t have to make a scene!”

“Honestly, Moira, I am
this
close—”

The sound of squealing tires silenced the argument. Quinn usually thought it was ridiculous when she heard people saying that something happened in slow motion, but she swore the world paused as she saw the car skidding toward them just as their light turned green. Their car lurched forward; her father must have pressed the gas pedal before he could curb the reflexive action. There was no way he could stop in time now.

Even though she knew it wouldn’t change or help anything, Quinn threw her hands out in front of her face before she could rethink the action. She heard her father’s loud curse, her mother’s scream, and her own gasp just before the car slammed into them.

Their car spun twice, and then slammed into another car. Quinn screamed as the impact thundered through her. Her head crashed into the window, and she felt nauseous almost immediately. She caught a glimpse of the stars through her window, and then the sound of breaking glass followed her into darkness.

Quinn could only stare as he killed the engine and stood, helmet dangling from his fingers. The wind ruffled his black hair around his face, and he filled out his leather jacket in a way not many boys her age did. Quinn watched as he walked toward her, telling herself to look away before he caught her. But the way he moved with such purpose got to her. He had confidence and a beautiful face.

Plus the most gorgeous green eyes she’d ever seen. They were like hitting a cool spot in the lake on the hottest summer day. His eyes unnerved her in the best way.

Quinn went weak-kneed as he came closer. She quickly unlocked her door and snatched her cell phone, then shoved it in her pocket. She made a beeline for the diner, her eyes downcast. She wanted to be in her seat before Mystery Guy came in, so she’d have a mooring. And maybe a vantage point for more staring. She wasn’t used to feeling this rattled by anything, especially not by a boy. She sped up, and reached for the door handle, but grasped warm fingers instead.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The words tumbled out after her gasp. A low laugh brought her gaze up, right into those eyes, and something in her stomach clenched in response.

“It’s alright. I wasn’t watching where I was going, obviously. I’m sorry. I was thinkin’ about a cheeseburger, honestly.”

“
I
was thinking about
your
eyes.” Quinn clapped her free hand over her mouth, but not fast enough to muffle the squeak she made. “I mean, I wasn’t. I mean, I was.” She fumbled, and finally shut her mouth, since Mystery Guy wasn’t going to offer her a graceful way out of the mess she’d made.

“Well, I like them too, but this is the first time they’ve had
this
effect.”

By some miracle, he was still talking to her. Quinn dropped her hand to her side, and then yanked the other one away from his when she realized she was still touching him. His skin was warmer than hers, the sort of heat that zinged through her. “What effect?”

“Rendering a pretty girl speechless.” He grinned at her, and opened the door to the restaurant. “After you...”

“Quinn.” She reached for the door handle again; her hand closed around metal this time. “Quinn Reynolds.” Oh, his voice. He should be announcing radio. Or saying her name, over and over again.

“Jonah Walker. Nice to meet you, Quinn.” Another smile, this one heart stopping in its glory.

Walker? As in Walker Farms? As in Reece Walker? Reece was something of a legend; even Quinn knew who he was. Reece was one of the best baseball players to come out of their town’s program in the last five years. But he was also known for being a heartbreaker, a hard partier, and the ultimate bad boy. Quinn honestly lost count of the number of lectures she’d sat through from her mother about how she was
not
to socialize with
any
of the Walker boys.

“You too.” Quinn barely let herself return his smile before she darted into the diner and to her booth. She didn’t trust herself to look back at Jonah, because she already knew no matter what, staying away from him would be impossible.

His car idled in the driveway as Jonah Walker surveyed the house and the land surrounding it. Someone had repainted the barn at some point since he’d been here, and the shutters on the two-story house looked new. But otherwise, the farm was the same: fields ready for crops, land in need of working, and cattle and horses grazing. Jonah shut off the engine and got out, shouldering the duffel containing his belongings. He took a deep breath, and inhaled fresh air, hay, and home cooking—all scents he tied to his growing-up years.

It felt good, putting his feet in familiar soil.
Right
in a way Atlanta never had—especially not in the last year or so. Life in the city had begun to irritate him, and make him see clearly everything he’d taken for granted back home. A family who loved him. Land to work. People who knew him.

Jonah squinted and raised a hand, shading his eyes against the sun to make out the figure ambling toward him from the barn. The familiar lazy walk told him all he needed to know after a moment’s study, and he lengthened his stride to meet his father halfway.

“About time you showed your face around here.” Sam Walker’s face creased into a smile that took Jonah back years; even though he was two inches taller than his dad was, he felt small again, but in a good, comforting way.

Jonah took another step forward, and then he put his arms around Sam, squeezing him tight. The embrace from his father was just as familiar as the house and grounds, the city limits sign, and the tree-lined drive that brought him here. Jonah clapped his dad’s back as he pulled away.

“Hey, Pop. How’re you doing?”

“Fine, fine.” Sam wiped his forehead with a rag, and then stuck it in his back pocket. “Glad to see you made it home okay. Your brothers are anxious to see you. They haven’t stopped yapping about you comin’ home since we got back from your graduation.”

Jonah hitched his duffel higher on his shoulder, and fell into step beside his father. He stuffed his worn hat in his back pocket, knowing that his mother would have a fit if he walked into her house wearing it. She barely tolerated Sam’s ridiculous collection of cowboy hats.

The screen door flew open with a bang and Jonah smirked at the two figures tumbling onto the porch and down the stairs, feet drumming against the ground. Reece’s dark, unruly hair was in disarray as usual, flying around his face. An eyebrow ring caught a glint of sunlight. His brothers came at him full speed, and he barely had time to drop his duffel bag and brace himself before they barreled into him—Ethan on one side, Reece aiming for his legs. Jonah held his ground until Reece slammed into him, then he toppled, and managed to take Reece with him. Reece landed on Jonah’s legs, and Jonah punched him in the stomach, hard enough to make his point but not to hurt. Reece emitted a puff of air, not quite a gasp, and Jonah smirked.