Page 58 of Turning Back

And Quin isn’t making any move to leave the game.

I’m not winning this time. Because I want to trust them. I want them to be real and I know they’re not.

I’m so off my game. The rules have changed and no one bothered to tell me.

I’m an amateur. All my moves are clumsy, all my motivations jumbled.

I learned a long time ago that you can’t trust people. I have lived with too many lies and disappointments to count. I have learned the ways of the world through the lens of dishonesty. Deceit. Cheating and backstabbing. I have wounds from those lessons. I have deep scars.

I’m gonna lose, I realize. I’m gonna lose this game. Because I desperately want to trust these men and I know it’s a bad idea. I want them to heal me, but they have long claws and sharp teeth.

Bric is trying to claim my heart by going through my daughter. And it’s working. I like him so much more now than I ever did before.

And Quin has always had my heart. But now I don’t have his.

No. There is no win in my future.

Chapter Twelve - Bric

“Is everything OK?” I ask Rochelle as we eat dinner. I stopped by this new restaurant a block away from the Club and picked up the most amazing sea bass tacos. Plus a little side of candied sweet potatoes that they whipped up special for the pumpkin. Almost none of it made it to her mouth because she’s got it all over her chubby face and fingers.

“Fine,” Rochelle says. She ate her food, so I’m going to assume that was an honest answer. When she goes off her food, that’s when I know to worry. That was, after all, the only weird thing I noticed about her behavior right before she took off last year. “But he’s late.”

“Only five minutes,” I say, glancing down at my watch.

“He used to be early. And whenever we had breakfast in the White Room booth, he used to sit across from me. He told me he liked it better than sitting next to me because he wanted to stare at my face.”

Hmmm. Is she overreacting? I’m not sure. “Well, look, Rochelle, you need to give the guy some time. He’s processing.”

She sighs and gets up. Disappears into Adley’s bedroom and comes back with a little pink washcloth to clean her messy face.

Adley balks. Squirms. And when Rochelle is persistent, she cries.

“You’re a good mother, Rochelle.”

She stops cleaning up Adley to smile at me. “Thanks.”

“I mean it too. You did good. And all by yourself. Don’t let this thing with Quin derail you. Don’t let it upset you or rob you of all the great things happening in your life right now.”

“I know,” she says, releasing Adley from the chair and picking her up. “You’ve been pretty great.” I shrug, going for a sheepish response. Rochelle doesn’t fall for it. Sheepish isn’t a word anyone would use to describe me. “We both know you’re going out of your way to help me right now. I’m just not sure what you’re getting out of this, Elias.”

“I’m getting you.”

“Typical, typical answer,” she says.

“And the pumpkin.” I smile big at the new addition to my typical response. “I like her. A lot.” I get a sad smile from Rochelle. And I know her well enough to read her mind. So I add something else to the new addition. “But don’t worry. If you and Quin work out and want me to back away, I will.”

Rochelle stares at me for a moment, unsure if she should take that promise at face value.

Even I’m not sure she should take that promise at face value. So I don’t make another addendum.

“I’m gonna give her a bath and get her ready for bed. Be done in thirty.”

“Sure,” I say, standing up. “I’ll be here.”

I gather up all the dinner trash and hit the elevator button to take it down to the dumpster in the garage. When the doors open, I practically slam into Quin.

“Shit,” he laughs. “You almost knocked me down.” He’s still wearing his work suit, but he’s holding dry-cleaning bags.