Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Quinn!” My mom’s voice floats down the stairs again. “The babies are awake!”
I smile to myself. Time to go be Uncle Quinn again. But now, for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to what comes next.
The weather is crisp but welcome. I leave Peyton’s early, needing the fresh air, hoping it will give me, in some odd way, the courage I need to tell my family about Justine. Telling them that Nola and I are done went better than I thought, but it also freed me to admit my feelings for Justine. Telling her where my head and heart are felt liberating. It was like a cinderblock had been lifted off my chest.
Now to tell my family about Justine. I’m not sure if I should tell my parents first and then my sisters or what, but I’m worried about Elle and how she’s going to react. There’s a lot at stake if things with Justine and I go south.
After telling my parents about the breakup yesterday, I figured they would corner me and ask me to share my feelings about it. They didn’t, which was a relief. Except, I wonder how badly I fucked up by dating her. Did anyone like her? I know I did, until I didn’t.
Last night, while I lay in bed—thinking about going up to Juniper’s room and holding her—I thought back to the beginning of the tour, looking for the first clue when I stopped liking Nola. When I stopped loving her. I can’t pinpoint the moment, but I can safely say that each memory includes Justine, and I believe there’s a reason for that.
I climb the now steady ladder of the Beaumont water tower and walk the mesh walkway until I come to the spot I’ve sat in a few times. This was never my thing. Not like Noah’s or the twins’. Once Noah graduated, I didn’t come back here. The people we hung with were his friends, not mine. I gravitated toward the band kids. They were more my speed, willing to jam on the weekends instead of getting drunk.
Leaning back, my head touches the cool metal of the long defunct water container. Liam has fought hard to keep this here, calling it a tradition of Beaumont teens, a rite of passage. The town was going to tear it down until Liam offered to buy the property. Without a doubt, this place is a liability, but he doesn’t seem to care. He wants the kids to have the same high school experience he did.
A truck pulls in and parks. Liam, JD, and my dad. They get out and head this way, only without a cooler of beer, which I suppose is a good thing since it’s too early for that shit. Another truck pulls in—and backs up to the tower—this time it’s Noah and Ben.
“Hey,” my dad says when he and Liam get to my spot.
“Hey. What are you guys doing here?”
“Nick called, said he saw you walking over this way, and there’s only one reason we come to the tower,” Liam says as he sits down.
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?” I ask, laughing lightly.
“Women,” Dad says. I give him a confused look, curious about what kind of issues he could have had with Mom. They’re the two most compatible people I know.
“We’re here with provisions,” Noah says as he sets a bag down. He opens it and pulls out jugs of orange juice, bottles of soda, and those bottles of coffee sold in the cooler section at the convenience store.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m about to tie one on,” Ben says as he rubs his belly.
“You’ll have to wait your turn, mate,” JD grabs a bottle of juice and twists the lid off, flipping it toward Noah’s truck.
“You guys, I meant what I said yesterday—I’m good.”
“We know,” Dad says as he puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Seriously though. This isn’t some cover,” I add. I feel like I’m begging them to understand.
“We’re just here to chill,” Liam says.
The six of us sit there, drinking OJ, iced coffee, and soda, saying nothing until my dumb ass blurts out, “I think I’m in love with someone.”
“Yes, mate!” JD holds his hand up high and then sighs audibly when I just stare at him. This doesn’t call for a celebration moment, even though I’m happy on the inside. It’s a heavy admission to say you’re in love with someone else after dropping the bomb that you and your fiancée are no longer together.
JD keeps his hand there and nods for me to slap it. I finally do. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he says as he sends his empty bottle of iced coffee toward Noah’s truck. The glass shatters, which means we all cheer. I swear this shit is therapeutic.
“Is it Justine?” Dad asks.