Page 50 of Tin

“I don’t know how much you know about Jackson.” She reaches for her key ring, and she starts moving the keys as if she’s organizing them somehow, but really she’s just sliding them around in circles. She’s nervous too.

“I know he hit her. And I know she killed him. In self-defense.” I kind of assumed that was the gist of it, but watching Kirsten trying to decide where to start suddenly makes me feel like I wasn’t even close.

“Yeah. I mean, that’s the short version, I guess.” She tilts her head back and forth. “The really, really short version. More like the blurb, really. You know. Like on the back of a DVD?”

I know. Idon’tknow why she’s rambling on about movie summaries.

“Anyway, the more extended version started when she was fifteen. He was twenty-six.”

The storm in my stomach rages, and my fists clench under the table. I’m pretty sure if I open my mouth to say anything right now, it won’t be good, so I shut up and just nod.

“Quinn was friends with his baby sister, who was seventeen at the time. Ashley. The two girls met through barrel racing when Quinn was eleven, and over the years their paths kept crossing until a friendship developed. So, naturally, when she met Jackson and he started spending more time with the girls, no one really thought anything of it. He was a roper. And with the girls getting older and participating at bigger events, more often than not they were all at the same ones.”

She sets down the keys again and lays her hands flat on the table. “We just...we never suspected anything inappropriate was happening. We knew the family. Our parents were friends. Jackson seemed like a good older brother who was just looking out for his little sister and her friend. I mean, we actually appreciated how much he watched over them at these events. You have to understand, men like Jackson have a way of hiding in plain sight, using their charm and permanent smile to cover up the beast that lives below. We had no idea.” She shakes her head, guilt brimming in her eyes. “Wasn’t until she was eighteen and moved in with him that we found out they’d been dating the entire time. She insisted they never slept togetheruntil she was legal, but we all knew that was bullshit. The second she turned of age, everything shifted. Suddenly he made no secret of his claim on her. It was almost like he was rubbing it in, that he’d stolen her right out from under our noses. And she was so young and so in love, she didn’t even see it.”

“Was he already hitting her?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I don’t need any more reasons to despise the man. No. Not man. Perverted piece of shit.

“Yes. I think so. She wouldn’t ever admit it, but she’d turn up with bruises and broken bones and blame it on some accident while riding or working horses. At one point my parents were ready to sell her mare because of it, but she begged them not to. After that, she got better at hiding her injuries. Even later, during her trial, she refused to go into much detail. Her stupid-ass pride just wouldn’t let her. But you’ve seen the marks. And I’m sure you’ve noticed how her left arm won’t straighten completely. Or how she limps ever so slightly on days when it’s overcast. He didn’t just break her spirit. He literallybrokeher. Countless times.”

“He’s dead now.” I’m reminding myself. But hearing her confirm it again wouldn’t hurt.

“Yeah. He’s dead.” She wipes her eyes delicately with the tips of her fingers, careful not to wipe away any of her perfect makeup. “But she’s still not free of him. Some days I wonder if he killed her before he went. If maybe the Quinn I see is just a ghost. An illusion I hang onto because I’m not capable of letting go. Because that’s all she’s been. An empty shadow of the girl she used to be. Until you. You don’t know what it’s been like, Riker. What it means to me to see her smile the way she has since she’s met you. You brought her back. You did the one thing none of us were able to do...you saved her. From him.” She clears her throat. “Now all that’s left is to save her from herself.”

QUINN

It’s surreal being back at my parents’ house. I haven’t lived here since before I was eighteen. And even back then I felt like I was hardly ever home, but here I am. Standing in my old room. Or what used to be my old room. My mom turned it into a guest suite somewhere along the way. She’s apologized about a million times for doing so, but, honestly, the last thing I need right now is to be surrounded by all my old crap. The only piece of my past I wish was with me is Harley, but the flight here would have been rough on him, so he’ll have to stay put with Kirsten a little while longer until I can figure things out. If I figure things out.

“I made soup burger.” My mom stands in the doorway, smiling. “It’s still your favorite, isn’t it?”

I haven’t had soup burger since I was about eleven. And she knows that. She’s just desperate to see me eat something. So I nod.

“Soup burger sounds perfect, Mom.” I even force the corner of my mouth upward. “Thank you.”

Relieved, she walks from the room, and I follow her out to the kitchen, even though I have no idea how I’m going to force down even a bite. I haven’t felt like eating anything in days, and now the thought of putting anything in my mouth, let alone something that’s the equivalent of a creamy sloppy joe, makes me want to vomit. On the plus side, there’s nothing left in my system to do so with.

“Is Devyn still coming by this afternoon?” she asks while she makes me a plate.

“As far as I know.” I feel like I’ve been talking to her nonstop for days. Up until now she’s handled everything without me, but now that the trial is actually starting, I can’t bury my head in the sand any longer.

“I talked to Kirsten earlier. She said she and Sophie will be here tomorrow afternoon. She wanted to be here in time for the opening statements, but she couldn’t get the flight she wanted.”

She places the plate in front of me along with a tall glass of chocolate milk. I love my mom. I love her even more for trying to bring back some sense of normalcy. But then I kinda hate myself for making her revert to a time when I still wore pigtails and thought boys were gross.

“I told Kirsten she didn’t need to come at all. I wish she wasn’t putting Sophie through the rigmarole of all this—taking her out of her normal routine, and making her sit in the middle of all this crap right when her school year is starting. It sucks. At this rate, the girl is going to grow up thinking I ruin everything.” My gaze keeps bouncing back and forth between the creamy ground-beef mess on a bun and my glass of chocolate milk. I can’t decide which to tackle first.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she’s coming. We’re all coming.” My mom pulls out her chair with a little too much force, causing her to hit the table and nearly knock over my milk. I catch it just in time.

“Mom.” But she won’t meet my gaze. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I am so sick of everyone’s life being put on hold on account of mine. And this time, you really don’t have to be present. There will be limited testimony. Most of the evidence was already submitted during the discovery process. I just need to show up, go through the motions, and wait for them to tell me how much I owe. You all dropping everything to sit through the tedious trial with me won’t be helping anyone. Least of all you.”

Finally, she takes her seat, but it’s like she completely tuned out the last thirty seconds when she declares a simple, “Eat.”

I don’t argue with her. I just scoop up the bun and whatever is willing to stay in it and take a hearty bite. With everything I’m putting her through, the least I can do is deal with a bout of nausea.

“Thank you.” She sighs, then rests her chin on her hand. “You’re scaring me, you know? More than usual. And between you and me, that’s quite an accomplishment.”

I gulp down some milk. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. Saying I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to cover anything anymore. I feel like a broken record every time I utter those hollow words, but they’re all I’ve got, so I say them anyway.

“What happened in North Carolina? Kirsten won’t tell me, which makes me think it’s horrible. Is it horrible? Because you’re not eating or sleeping, and you’re...giving up. And I don’t understand. Please, help me understand.”

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