Page 49 of No Place Like Home

“Are you still journaling at least?” he asked as I turned around.

“Prescott,” I sighed. “I’m fine.”

I hated spending too much time around him, because he looked at me as if I would snap.

“If you say so,” he said as he started to walk to his house.

“If I’m not married by thirty, you’re marrying me. I like this view.”

He laughed. “Not happening, kid.”

“You’ll be forty, not to mention old and ugly. I’d be doing you a favor.”

It was a lie, and we both knew he would still have it going on.

“You deserve love, Jess.”

My response was to flip him off.

“You’re still my favorite!” he yelled after me.

When I got to the house, I stopped before opening the door.

“Was he awake?” I asked the dog.

Woof.

Yeah, I had no idea what the hell that meant.

Since the house was quiet, I figured he was probably downstairs again.

The first thing I noticed was the television playing another game at full blast.

“There are three seconds left in the game; there’s no way they can make it. Hardwell throws the ball, Dunn is running mid-air, and touchdown!”

I didn’t know football, but I knew it was a game from his college days based on his uniform.

“You have to be shitting me,” I hissed as I saw the mess he had made while I was at school.

Without thinking, I marched up to him and snatched the control away from him.

“What. The. Fuck?” he growled when I took the control away from him and turned off the television.

“What the fuck? Dude, I spent all fucking night cleaning up your fucking mess!”

My patience had run thin. I was angry, sleepy, and, for some reason, hurt.

“I didn’t ask you to do anything!” Quincy seethed as he took a sip of his bottle.

“I was trying to help you!” I ground out.

He looked at me through half-mast eyes. I felt his gaze travel from my head down to my toes.

“You want to help me?” he mocked.

Instinctively I took a step back. At that moment, I didn’t see Quincy, but my father and how he would talk down on my mother.

Quincy licked his lips.

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