Until Next Time (15 page)

KC grumbled. “Figures. Playing favorites.”

Sarah leaned close to him. “You can be my favorite.”

“Just as you’re mine,” he replied, stealing another kiss.

“Remember it’s only a game,” Ma cooed.

“When do I get to move my yellow piece?” Piper asked.

“The actual moving of the players’ pieces depends on how many people answer this question right about Quinn—since that’s whose name you landed on.” He plucked a card from the top of the deck and handed it to her. “Read this—out loud—and put Quinn’s name in the blank.”

Piper took the card, smiling mischievously at Quinn. “Imaginiff Quinn were a Beatle, which one would he be? One: John, two: Ringo, three: Paul, four: George, five: Volkswagen, six: dung.”

At the last number, Piper erupted in laughter.

“Now,” Grandpa said, “all of us will pick which one we think fits Macy, here, best and pick the corresponding number card from our own stacks and put it in the middle of the board. You, too, Piper.”

Piper’s forehead crinkled in thought. Quinn whispered to her, “It’s not brain surgery.”

She playfully shoved him away. “Stop distracting me. I’m thinking here.”

Finally, everyone had laid their cards facedown in the middle of the board.

Grandpa said, “Okay, we’ll all flip our cards over and whatever players agree—and have the majority vote—get to move their pieces forward.”

In unison, everyone flipped over their cards.

Piper took in all the answers, stopping at KC’s card. Another burst of laughter erupted from her. “Dung beetle?”

Quinn yanked the card up and tossed it at KC. “Nice. Real nice.”

KC chuckled. “Hey, they play a very important part in the ecosystem, my friend. And you play an important part in this family.”

“Nice save,” Ma called out.

Sarah gave a hearty laugh, wrapping her arm around KC.

“I don’t think that’s what he had in mind,” Grandpa added.

“I know.” Quinn shook his head, but took it in stride, grinning.

Quinn finally looked at the number Piper had. She’d picked number five: Volkswagen. “A car? You think I’m like a car? Man, I can’t get ahead here, can I?”

She gave him a soft smile and leaned closer to his face. “Volkswagens are the most dependable cars on the road, you know. Safe, secure, reliable…” Her words drifted off, her eyes glassed over as she looked away. “Plus,” she whispered, “I don’t know anything about the
other
Beatles.”

Grandpa’s voice snapped them out of the awkward moment. “Okay, what have we got? Well, looks like Marcus and Macy move forward—no one else but those two agreed on their answers.”

Quinn looked up at his dad. “Thanks for remembering how much I liked Ringo.”

He tapped his head. “I’ve got your back. I always knew playing those oldies for you would come in handy one day.”

Quinn focused back on Piper. Had she scooted away from him? And here he’d thought they were doing so well. Getting closer with each passing second. One question and…poof?

He blew out a breath, drawing his attention back to the game. He’d tangled himself with an incredible, complicated girl. Now only if he knew the best way to tread these uncharted waters.

Chapter Twelve

Piper nerves were stretched a little too tight. Then again, maybe it was her jeans and all the nachos she’d shoved down during that insane dinner conversation. Why had she told Quinn all that stuff at dinner anyway?

Because she’d needed to tell someone how she was feeling. And Quinn was so easy to talk to. He listened,
really
listened, to what she said. And it made her feel cherished.
No. Special.
Wanted?
Cheese and crackers, she didn’t know. Quinn made her feel so many things she didn’t even know if her head was screwed on straight at the moment. What was she going to do about him?

And now, of all places, she was sitting in the middle of Mr. Oliver’s living room, huddled around an enormous wooden coffee table, playing a game that was plain silly and somehow very…real. Every time someone picked up a card, she was so grateful that the main marker wasn’t on her name. When it was, she’d felt exposed, answering those question about herself. The family took it all in stride, though. For the most part, they made a great game out of it, playing up their answers and picking the most ridiculous choices to the questions. But Piper couldn’t settle on ridiculous at the moment. Her chest was too tight, her brain too fried to do anything but think about reality and how Quinn sat within inches of her, constantly murmuring in her ear, stroking her arm, her hair, and telling her she was doing great. Comforting her and making her feel so at ease, even when she was truly at her worst. Like he had when he’d picked her up from her apartment. Just as he had during dinner. He was already so under her skin, and she doubted he knew it. And she had no idea how to dig him out. Which was why, she mused, she hadn’t tried.

Which by her calculations was mistake number three.

She needed to get up. Get some air. Figure out what, in the name of chocolate, she was doing thinking these things and feeling this stuff. It was dangerous territory.

She bolted to her feet. “I have to, uh, use the restroom.”

And like that, she bustled herself out of the room and down the hall. Forget about the fact that she didn’t know where the bathroom was; she didn’t really have to go. She just needed a second. Who would have thought a board game could make you think so much about the people you were playing with? The game was like dissecting them, getting in their heads and letting them get into hers. Yes, dangerous territory, indeed.

“Piper?”

Sarah voice drifted down the hall. Piper twisted, flattening herself against the wall. “Yes?”

“I was checking to make sure you knew where the bathroom was.” She paused, stepping closer and giving Piper a comforting smile. “And to make sure you were okay. You left abruptly.” There was a flicker of something there, an understanding Piper couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll be fine.”

Sarah drew up next to her, taking her by the elbow just as Quinn had. “You know,” she said quietly as she led Piper down the hall, “Quinn thinks the world of you.”

Piper’s cheeks went hot. “Good to know he talks about me to everyone.”

“He doesn’t. I can see it.”

They stopped at a solid oak door at the end of the hall.

“Do you know what I can also see?” Sarah added, pointing to the door.

“No offense, but I’m not sure I want to know.”

The woman’s wrinkle-free face split into a smile, and her eyes glimmered. “I like you. I think you’ll be good for our Quinn.”

“That’s good because I’m not so sure.”

“You know, Piper, sometimes you have to have faith in the things you can’t see. Trust me on that.” She dropped her hand from Piper’s elbow. “Quinn and I have a lot in common, so if you ever need to talk about anything, I’ll listen.”

Piper did her best to hide her confusion. This woman was starting to sound like a therapist. And with the lull of her voice and the way her calm eyes danced carefully around Piper’s face, Piper actually had the urge to talk to her. She blinked and took a step back.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, twisting the bathroom open and jumping inside as fast as her feet would take her. Sarah’s smile remained confident and sure until Piper closed the door with a click.

Bizarre. This night was just weird. Forget about the games, forget about the family, forget about what she’d said, learned, done, whatever. Piper was in up to her eyeballs with feelings swirling deep in her chest, confusion mounting with each step closer to Quinn, and old pain trying to pull her back from the edge of a cliff she knew she was getting ready to jump off of.

Yes, she was in deep trouble. She was quickly learning that Quinn wasn’t the only one in his family who was so caring, so concerned, and so ridiculously amiable. Being surrounded by such normal people, having them chat with her like she was one of them, having them concerned about her well-being, and having them want to help her—even when Piper wasn’t sure what was wrong with herself—made a recipe for disaster, if you asked her. They were too close, too fast. It was too much.

After splashing a burst of cool water over her face, Piper straightened herself up and headed back into the fray.

“Good, she’s back,” KC called out as Piper stepped through the door frame. “My turn.”

He waited until Piper found her seat before flicking the dice over the board.

Quinn tugged her close. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Again, a lie. She would never be fine again so long as she was with Quinn. She either had to come to grips with that or do something about it. As she turned and looked into those iridescent green eyes, she knew she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Two,” KC called.

Piper pulled her gaze from Quinn. Her eyes danced over the white marker. KC picked it up and moved it two spaces to the left, setting it right on top of Piper’s name. She held her breath. Here we go, again.

KC plucked a top card from the stack and read the question. “Imaginiff Piper was an invention, which would she be?”

Whew.
Piper let out a sigh of relief. Nothing truly personal about that question.

KC continued, “One: penicillin, two: a laptop, three: a blow dryer, four: an atomic bomb, five: a zipper, and six: a robot.”

Piper mulled over the inventions in her head. Was she like penicillin? She didn’t save people; she prepared people for death, so that one was out. A laptop? No, she didn’t really have a technological bone in her body. She dealt with dead people. An atomic bomb? Well, she was all over the place sometimes, but she didn’t self-destruct and take millions of people down with her, so that was out, too. A zipper? She inwardly chuckled. She had no idea how anyone could compare themselves to a zipper. Finally, a robot? Robots were trained to do the same thing over and over. They led a stagnant life, did what people told them to do, didn’t really have any emotions, and all around were kind of
there,
following routines, doing what they had to do to get through the day. Yes, that was it. Piper was like a robot. She laid down her number card, noticing she was the last one to do so.

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “I had to think about that one for a minute.”

Quinn’s mother gave her a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s hard when you’re choosing these silly answers for yourself. I don’t know how anyone can compare themselves to any of these things really.”

“It’d be easy for me,” KC piped in. “Atomic bomb, hands down.”

“I’d have to agree with that,” Sarah added.

Laughter rolled out of Quinn and his father. “That’s no kidding,” Quinn said. “Wasn’t it you who set the neighbor’s cat on fire with the fireworks that one year?”

KC’s face went red. “That was Del…
and
me, thank you very much.”

“Well, good,” George said. “Two atomic bombs in the family. I’m glad I’ve got my penicillin right here, then.” He patted Quinn on the arm.

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because I can fix everything?” He gazed at Piper. “Not as much as you’d think, Grandpa.”

Her cheeks went hot. She glanced at her card on the table. She suddenly didn’t want them to see her answer.

“Flip ’em over,” KC announced.

Piper hesitated, and then complied. Her eyes darted around the table, wondering what everyone else had chosen. Quinn’s mother had picked zipper. She didn’t bother to ask why. Quinn’s father had picked zipper, too. Weird. KC had picked laptop. And Quinn’s grandpa and Sarah had picked zipper as well. What on earth? Her eyes flitted to Quinn’s card. He had picked penicillin.

Her eyes flew up to his. Why had he picked penicillin? But his eyes weren’t on her. His forehead was folded into a deep frown as he looked at her card. Her gaze flicked between his distressed expression, his card, and then back to her card.

“Zipper wins it!” George called out. “That means…” He moved his blue marker across the board. “Yes…I won!”

“Only because you’ve been around the longest and know us all the best,” KC grumbled.

“KC,” Sarah murmured, “it’s only a game. Don’t scare Piper now.”

“Thank you, Sarah,” Quinn’s mom said. “Let’s not scare anyone away.” She gave Piper a comforting look.

“Yeah. Right, only a game…” Marcus added.

They all laughed.

Piper wasn’t listening to the commotion. Quinn had finally focused on her. His normally light eyes were filled with concern, his face still strained with something.

Without saying a word, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “It’s getting late,” he announced. “Thanks for another rousing evening of Oliver Family Game Night.”

Piper barely remembered going through the motions of saying her goodbyes. She barely remembered Quinn helping her into her side of his car. And she could barely contain her unease at his silence on the drive to her home.

Finally, she had to say
something.
“Why did you pick penicillin?”

The corner of his lip quirked, but his eyes remained on the road. “Because every time I’m around you, you make me feel better.”

Oh.

“Might I ask why you choose robot?” he asked, his gaze still firmly ahead.

Her shoulders lifted and fell. “Robots do the same thing every day. They are the most constant creatures, right? And they don’t have to deal with emotions. Sounds about right to me.”

“I think you’re short-changing yourself there, Piper.”

“No, it’s true.”

“No, it’s not. Otherwise, my family wouldn’t have picked zipper.”

That made her stop short and swivel in her seat to face him. “
Why
did they pick zipper?”

Another slow grin lifted both sides of his face. “Zippers are easy.”

“Easy?”

“No, no, not like that
.
They’re simple to navigate and use, and you, Piper, to them, are easy to talk to and navigate.”

“It goes with the funeral director territory.”

“I know. They haven’t seen the side of you I’ve seen. The side you don’t let people see.”

“And what side is that, exactly?”

He pulled into her driveway, slowing the car to a full stop. Once his seat belt and the ignition were off, he turned to face her. “The one with the emotion.”

Her breath hitched at the flash of intimacy in his eyes. Eyes that under the darkness of the moon still glowed with light.

“Which is why you floored with me your robot card,” he added. “I hate that you think your life’s like that. It’s no way to live.”

“It’s the only way I’ve known.”

His fingers brushed her cheek, making her shiver. “For that, I’m sorry.”

Air, she needed air. And fast. With a bustle of movements, she flew out of the car and up her steps. Now there they were, standing on the porch of the funeral home, with Piper shifting awkwardly on both feet, trying to do anything but look at Quinn.

A no-strings-attached relationship is what she’d asked for. It’s what she’d always had.
Always.
But now, with Quinn at her side, sensations rolling through her chest like a tidal wave, she wondered if anything would be possible with him. Hadn’t she known from the beginning that he could make her feel? Make her think?

The door lock clicked open, and she went to give the door a shove. Quinn’s hand clasped around her arm, his heat pressed into her back.

“May I come in?” he asked.

No.
“Yes.”

She ambled through the door, Quinn still a constant presence behind her. His hand fell to the small of her back as she made her way up the stairs, to her door, and finally they crossed the threshold of her apartment.

Her eyes instantly fell onto the stupid box still perched on the coffee table.

“Give me a sec.” She ushered him in, snatched up the box, and tossed it in the bottom of the only storage closet in her apartment—her bedroom one. She would need to permanently dispose of it tomorrow. She still didn’t know why she’d even bothered dragging the darn thing out of the dumpster, anyway.

Rushing back into the small space of the living room, she found Quinn grabbing two glasses out of her kitchen cabinets.