I wasn’t happy being his kept boy. And when I made noises about returning to school the following semester, Clay came up with a tantalizing offer to take me to LA, a mecca of interior design, where he had a friend looking to get into the business. It was easy to see now that he’d held out the carrot and I’d followed like a hungry rabbit. We’d never made it to LA, of course, and Clay hadn’t been happy when I went back to work, but I couldn’t stand staying cooped up in that house with no purpose to my life.
Impulsively, I grabbed my coat and went out the back door. I followed Jonas’s tracks, but even so, my pantlegs got soaked up to the knee. By the time I got to the shed, I was regretting my spontaneous decision to make myself useful by shoveling the drive. But when I’d asked Jonas about taking the Jeep instead of the snowmobile, he’d said we’d have to dig it out and shovel the drive before we could even consider going anywhere. I knew it’d take a couple of days before the main roads were clear enough to travel, but it couldn’t hurt to get a head start, could it? It wasn’t as if I had anything better to do.
I pulled on my gloves and flipped up my hood, then got to work clearing snow from the driveway. Long unused muscles burned in my arms and my back as I dug the shovel down, pushed it under the snow, and flung it aside. I shoveled until my limbs felt like Jell-O and my heart pumped hard enough to keep me warm. I was dimly aware that my feet were numb and my hands were growing stiffer by the minute.
I took a break to build a small snowman and admire my handiwork. I reached for my phone to take a snow selfie, then remembered what I’d see if I dared to look at my notifications.
Clay.
My mother.
They’d want answers.
With a sigh, I returned to shoveling the walk.
JONAS
I spotted Quinn in front of the cabin when I returned. It looked like he’d cleared a good portion of the drive, but it seemed a little premature. What if it snowed again? It would be better to wait until we knew the main roads were clear to drive, but I suspected he wouldn’t want my two cents on the matter.
I pulled into the shed and carried my load inside, expecting he’d meet me there. When he didn’t, I left the bags on the counter and went to the front door, opening it and calling out. “Yo, Quinn! Come help me with breakfast.”
He turned a little too slowly for my liking and blinked at me. “You’re back.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” I felt a flash of concern and hurried down the porch steps. I practically had to pry the snow shovel from his grip. I tossed it aside, taking his hands in mine. “Can you feel your fingers? How long have you been doing this?”
“I don’t know. Soon after you left. I’m okay.” He pulled his hands free and started trudging toward the door. I watched him critically, but he seemed steady. “I should finish the drive after breakfast.”
“There’s plenty of time,” I said. “I can do the rest.”
Quinn turned on me, eyes flashing. “Stop doing that!”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to take care of me, or…be the hero, or whatever it is you’re doing.”
I was caught off-guard by the display of anger. “You’re half-frozen. I was concerned.”
“You were out in the cold just as long,” Quinn pointed out.
That was true. I trusted myself to take care of myself, though. I didn’t know Quinn well enough to trust he could do the same. Maybe I was treating him like a priceless treasure I needed to protect. It was hard not to feel protective of Quinn. He’d always seemed so fragile, like one more crack and he might shatter. But he wasn’t that same kid anymore. There was a fire in him now that he’d never shown back then.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I am just as capable as—Wait, what? You’re sorry?”
“Yeah, I guess I worry too much. I should trust you to know your limits. My bad.”
“Your bad,” he echoed, a quizzical note in his tone.
I stomped my feet on the welcome mat to shake loose snow, though it was a losing proposition. The stuff had crusted all long my pantlegs. “At the rate I’m going through laundry, I’m going to be your naked roommate soon.”
Quinn made a strangled sound. “There’s a washing machine.”
“There you go, ruining all the fun,” I teased as I walked inside, tugging off my gloves. Quinn followed me inside, removing his outwear, which wasn’t nearly warm enough for these temperatures. I resisted the urge to point out that my coat and gloves would have kept me far warmer than his wool material that no doubt soaked right through.
“Sorry,” Quinn said. “I guess I have a short fuse when it comes to certain things.”
“It’s cool. We’re still getting to know each other better.”
“Yeah, and that’s the thing…”
“What is?”
“I don’t like being dependent on you,” he said. He crossed his arms and looked away. “Like you said, we don’t really know each other that well. I was clearing the drive because I want to go get my car as soon as possible. I want transportation. I want the freedom to leave if I need…if I want to.”
“Okay,” I said as evenly as I could. It was clear that Quinn’s concerns ran a lot deeper than I’d considered. Did he not want to stay here with me? I knew our situation was awkward, but it hadn’t occurred to me that Quinn might feel trapped.
I turned back to the groceries so he wouldn’t see my expression. “I’m going to put a batch of cinnamon rolls in. Then change my clothes. But I think we should talk after. Clear the air.”
“We don’t need to talk,” Quinn said quickly, almost anxiously. Was he afraid of me? This morning he’d joked around with me, assured me I wasn’t his least-favorite Brooks. Was he just saying what he thought I wanted to hear? Or was there something else going on that made him so edgy?
I’d promised Dad I’d look out for him, but what if that’s the last thing Quinn wanted from me? I’d only ever wanted to make him happy, but maybe I needed to accept that was never going to be in the cards.
“It’s just a conversation,” I said as gently as I could while I rolled out the cinnamon roll dough onto a baking sheet. “We’ll talk over cinnamon rolls and coffee. What’s not to like about that?” I shot him my best attempt at a smile. “A little sweetness will do us both good.”
And then, if he still wanted to leave, I’d help him—just as soon as the weather allowed.
QUINN
As soon as Jonas left the kitchen to change, I fled up to the loft, feeling like a dumbass. I’d overreacted; I’d known it even as the words spilled from my mouth. Clay had been on my mind a lot, thanks to that dream. Being around Jonas also stirred up a lot of strange emotions too: the temptation to trust and rely on him and the fear that if I did, I’d come to regret it. I knew that was my baggage, not his.
And now he wanted to talk.
I groaned as I peeled off my wet jeans and pulled on sweats once more, too disheartened to care one tiny bit about my appearance. My sleeves were wet and chafing my wrists, so I pulled on my favorite navy-blue hoodie and reluctantly returned downstairs.