Page 31 of Four More The Merrier

She shrugs, but I catch how her shoulders tremble. "It is what it is."

"No, it ain't." The words come out fiercer than I meant them to. "Look, I heard you sing that first night. Hell, I've heard you every night since then. You've got something special, Quinn. Something raw and real that can't be taught."

Her eyes meet mine, glistening with unshed tears. "You're just saying that to be nice."

"When have you known me to just say things?" I crack a small smile. "I'm the quiet one, remember?"

That gets a watery laugh out of her.

"I mean it though." I take off my hat, running a hand through my hair. "Your voice... it's got this way of making people feel things. Making them remember things they thought they'd forgotten. That's a gift."

She wipes at her eyes with her sleeve. "You really think so?"

"Know so." I settle my hat back on my head. "And if it's any consolation... I believe in you. So does Lyle. Hell, even Jarron and Austen are coming around I think, though they'd rather eat glass than admit it."

"Thank you." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "That... that means a lot."

I shift my weight, adjusting my hat. "You should come have dinner with us."

Quinn blinks, mascara-smudged eyes widening. "What?"

"On the bus. We've got enough food to feed a small army." I gesture toward the door. "No one should be alone on Thanksgiving."

"I don't know..." She tugs at her sleeve. "Jarron and Austen-"

"Can kiss my ass." The words come out sharper than intended. "Sorry, but they don't get to decide who I invite to dinner."

A small smile tugs at her lips. "You sure?"

"Positive. Besides, Lyle's already setting you a plate."

She glances down at her sweatshirt. "I'm not exactly dressed for dinner."

"You look fine." I wave off her concern. "Hell, Jarron's probably wearing the same shirt he passed out in last night."

That gets a real laugh out of her. "Alright, just let me wash my face."

While she disappears into the bathroom, I text Lyle: Bringing her down. Tell the cousins to behave or I'm shoving drumsticks somewhere uncomfortable.

The reply comes quick: Already threatened them. They're playing nice. For now.

Quinn emerges, face fresh and hair pulled back neatly. She grabs her room key and phone, then pauses. "Thank you, Beau. Really."

"Don't mention it." I hold the door open. "Now come on, before Lyle stress-eats all the sweet potato casserole."

She follows me out, and I notice her shoulders aren't quite as slumped as before. Maybe this holiday won't be so bad after all.

16

QUINN

The cold Idaho air bites through my sweater as I follow Beau's towering frame across the parking lot. The tour bus looms ahead, fairy lights strung around its awning creating a warm glow against the darkening sky. My stomach growls at the smell of turkey wafting from the open door.

"Look who I found," Beau calls out, ducking his head to enter the bus.

"Quinn!" Lyle bounds over, wrapping me in a bear hug that lifts me off my feet. "I knew you weren't going home. Come on, we've got enough food to feed an army."

"Or just Beau," I joke, earning a deep chuckle from the gentle giant beside me.

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