“Hey, Nelsy. What’s up?”
“Just wondering if you and my sister had killed each other yet.”
Quinn let out a mirthless laugh. “No, but there’s still plenty of time.”
“Sarah can be a little … intense, but she’s good people.”
Intense. Yeah, Quinn would go with that. It was more PC than any of his descriptions. “So she mentioned you don’t have a way to work out. Why don’t you come over tomorrow and help yourself to the equipment here? This house came with a full gym that’s a fitness nut’s wet dream.”
“Can’t. Team says no mingling. At all. Which is the other reason for my call.”
“Yeah?” Quinn plopped on a formal couch in a formal room he’d never used and tossed a formal pillow into the air. He caught it and tossed it again.
“Heard from anyone on the team?”
Another catch and toss. “You’re the first since our fun times at the press conference. No one else is talking to me.” Yeah, he’d been a dumbass, but cut a guy some slack. “What’s going on?”
Nelson blew out a breath on the other end. Uh-oh. “So one of the trainers is sick, and they’re testing him for COVID-19. On top of that, that dick of a reporter’s whining that he’s sick too, so the team’s paying to test him.”
Quinn let the pillow fall to his feet. “You’re shitting me.”
“Wish I were. It’ll take a few days to get the results. I wanted to give you the heads-up so you can lay low. People are still worked up over the press conference.”
“You’re not, though, are you?” In that moment, Quinn needed to know he and Nelson were okay because neither Shanstrom nor Grimson were talking to him, though he’d tried apologizing by phone, by text. Multiple times. With barely a response, which bothered the shit out of him.
“Nah, we’re good. Don’t get me wrong. That was a really stupid move on your part, but I know where you were coming from. You’re not out to hurt anybody, but a little more impulse control on your part would’ve gone a long way. Feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you. But shit, I couldn’t have given them the virus.” Could I? Cold needles of ice spiked along Quinn’s shoulders and neck.
“Doesn’t matter right now. Everybody’s on edge. Like I said, I wanted to let you know so you don’t get blindsided.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate you.”
“Oh. And another piece of advice? Don’t be putting moves on my sister unless you want me beating your ass.”
Like Quinn needed the reminder. “Ha! Farthest thing from my mind, dude. Your sister’s safe with me.” Can’t imagine being that desperate. Besides, that little wildcat would scratch my eyes out just for trying to read her latest ridiculous T-shirt.
When they hung up, Quinn sat in the dark, turning over Nelson’s words. When he’d touched the mics, he’d done it … Why? Just another jaunt into Quinn World. Impulsive. And senseless. Wouldn’t be the first time. No, he never did anything halfway. But damn, he’d never intended for anyone to get sick. Hell, how could anyone have gotten sick from him when he wasn’t sick?
His second phone was tucked beside him on the couch, signaling he had a voicemail. Without bothering to listen, he stuffed the phone back in his pocket. The other phone, his regular phone, he carried in his hand as he padded back into the kitchen. The soft giggling of women, all high and musical, reached his ears. He rounded the corner and stopped. The kitchen was completely buffed, as if a tornado had scoured and polished every surface, and on the family room couch sat his mom and Sarah Sunshine. His mom was stroking Archer’s head, which was planted on her thigh, and Sunshine’s head was down, as though she was looking at something in her lap. What was obviously a chick flick played on the TV screen—he knew because a trio of hot girls were laughing at some clueless guy.
His mom’s head turned toward him. “Quinnie! Come join us.” He squinted to get a closer look. She was smiling, and she looked about ten years younger than she had the other night. Maybe Sarah had colored her hair already? No, he hadn’t been gone that long. Besides, it looked the same. But her cheeks were rosier, her face less lined.
A little gust of air left his body, unwinding a few coiled muscles. “Uh, I’m good, thanks.” Life might be going to shit, but there sat his mom, actually enjoying herself, and for a moment he didn’t feel guilty. So hey, a silver lining in a black thundercloud. Miss Sunshine didn’t look up, and he found himself wanting to make her acknowledge him.
“Got everything you need?” he directed at both of them. His mom nodded, but Sarah stayed focused on whatever the hell was in her lap. “How about you, Sunshine?”
She didn’t raise her head. “I’m good, Sparky.”
Sparky. Great.
He couldn’t help himself. “Whatcha got there?”
“The latest issue of Civil Engineering.”
“Can I read it sometime? Sounds interesting.”
“Mm-hmm.” She still hadn’t looked up.
It occurred to him that her magazine was way more interesting than he was. With a puff of his cheeks, he spun and retreated to his room, where he shut the double doors behind him. He scrolled through his regular phone, relieved to find nothing on his outburst in the press conference—yet—and laid it on top of the nightstand. Sliding the second phone out of his pocket, he stared at it a beat before powering it off and stowing it in his nightstand drawer. He threw himself on his bed, locking his hands under his head. Stared at the ceiling as if he could find the answer to what the universe had in store
