Page 59 of The Way We Swing Back

“I don’t need to cool off,” I said.

“Sure you don’t. But can you come into my bedroom? I have something to show you.”

He left without waiting for a response, both of us knowing he was full of shit and I’d follow him anyway.

By the time I got to his room, my drive to keep yelling had subsided, and I spent the next twenty minutes bitching about Zach while Gavin mindlessly doodled on a piece of paper. But two doors down, Zach was still awake, still barely talking to me—and no amount of venting was going to fix that.

Chapter 26

“Easton, can you come here?” Mr. Quinn shouted up the stairs. Tanner’s room had been quiet except for my pencil scratching out answers to my math homework and my sappy music by sombr playing from my phone. I thought I’d been alone, so the voice broke me out of my trance. I turned off my music, not wanting anyone to realize what I listened to.

“One second,” I yelled back, my mind wandering to the one and only time that had been my response to my dad and the bruises that had followed. I touched my right pec, making sure the bruise wasn’t still there; the muscle was stiff and as strong as it should be.

I finished writing the equation I was working on and made my way downstairs, the silence of the house a stark contrast to what I was used to, a sense of foreboding vibrating my body.

“You have a minute?” Mr. Quinn said, his face unreadable as always.

I paused for a second and said, “Sure,” before flopping onto the couch.

“Nothing huge,” Mr. Quinn said, and the knot in my stomach loosened but did not become completely undone.

Mr. Quinn had worn a full beard since I’d met him, with no gray hair mixing in with the brown yet. He had Zach’s build more than Tanner's or Gavin’s—thick around the shoulders, thighs, and face, but never bordering on fat.

“First thing. Morgan and I have started working on the restraining order against your dad. Do you still want to do that?”

I nodded before I’d processed the question then leaned back in the chair. It wouldn’t stop Dad from coming around, but if he did, there’d be consequences. Maybe I’d stop seeing ghosts every time I stepped onto the field.

“Perfect. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Next up—Berry and I have been talking, and he said the only thing that can stop you from playing for Central Missouri is your SAT score. Zach and Tanner went to an SAT prep class. It’s a bit late for it, but do you want to try to find one still available?”

“No,” I answered quickly. “Tanner’s been meeting me at the library a couple times a week since the offer came in. Your kid is a freaking drill sergeant, but I feel really good about where I’m at. I promise.”

“You’re sure?”

“Even Tanner says I’ll be fine.”

Mr. Quinn started again. “Okay. Last thing. I have a bit of a tradition with my boys. Once every couple of months, I ask the rest of the house to leave for a couple of hours, and we have a one-on-one talk on life. You’re living under this roof now, so I figured it was time we started. Are you okay with that?”

I took a breath, leaning my body closer to him, my mind now focused. “Talk about what?”

Mr. Quinn opened his hands toward me. “Well, that’s up to you. I started with the boys when they were seven, so you being eighteen is a whole different ballgame. We’d both be learning how to do this.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to digest the conversation; the lingering quiet reminded me of sitting in silence with Tanner, both of us forgetting how to talk.

Mr. Quinn was unable to sit in the silence, though, and he fidgeted like Gavin did when he got antsy, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands moving everywhere. “Would you like to hear ideas of what I’ve talked about with the other boys?”

“Yeah, that’d help.”

“Gavin likes to ask me to teach him stuff, like how to shave or how to change the oil in a car. Zach asks about alcohol and drugs, trying to make heads or tails of what he hears in school. Tanner used to ask a lot of evasive questions about sex, but I don’t think I handled that one great since I had no idea he was gay.”

He looked away from me after he said it, staring at the wall like he was leaving a space open while giving me the grace to not try to read my face.

My mouth went dry. For one second I let myself imagine it. Saying the thing. Here, in the safest room in the safest house I’d ever been in, to one of the only adults I’d never had to fear. The words got as far as the back of my throat.

Then I thought about what I’d done with his son, two years ago, in this exact house, over and over again. About Tanner and Calvin and the version of me that had been too much of a coward to be the one Tanner didn’t have to hide with.

“You know what would be cool?”

Mr. Quinn’s eyes came back to me. Maybe I’d just imagined him opening the door. “What’s that?”