Page 3 of One Night Entanglement
"Very. I can't wait to see what this kid is going to do with his life. There are times when I look at him, I realize I'm not his biological father, and I'm thankful every day he decided to not push me away. There were moments when I wondered. I mean, who doesn't want an ex-pro athlete to be your dad?"
We laugh together. "He's a good kid."
"The fucker turned eighteen in February and hasn't let us forget he's a damn adult," he grumbles. "But for the most part, he is a great kid."
My phone buzzes, and I grab it, surprised to see it’s Cecily. I gave her my number before I left the house today, not expecting that she would actually call me. Holding up a finger to Troy, I walk over to a private area and answer. "Hello?"
"Was it you?" She's pissed.
"Was what me?"
I can hear the steam coming through her nose. "I have brand-new tires, courtesy of Ford Gambrel and his mobile mechanic business. Since I know I didn't ask him to do it, the only other person I can think of is you."
Fuckin' hell. "It was me."
"Why? I can handle this shit on my own, Quinn. I've been surviving just fine without you for years."
Now that hurts, but I'm used to it from her. Maybe it's because I've been surviving too, but not living, and I desperately want to live. "That might fuckin' be true, but you can't sit in that house wallowing in self-pity, waiting for one of those assholes to show up. That's not you, and you aren't going to survive if you do it. Fact of the matter is, we both need money. I've got a job, now it's on you to get one, Cec. You're a nurse, you've been a waitress, and there's a million other things I'm sure you can be halfway decent at. Get off the fuckin' couch and go find something to get up for in the goddamn morning."
She doesn't say anything for a few moments, and I know I've pushed her a little harder than I should've. But at the same time, I can't stand to see her letting this family make her be smaller than she is.
C'mon, Cecily, fight me on what I've just said. Don't let them take away your spark.
"Fuck off, Quinn." Then the dial tone.
With a smirk, I turn back to Troy, pleased with myself. That annoyed phrase, along with her hanging up on me? That tells me everything I need to know about how hard she's willing to fight for what's hers.
4
Cecily
I’m not a pushover. I’m not some spineless twit waiting to be rescued by other people. One, I’m glad he recognized it and reminded me of it. Two, I’m fucking pissed at myself for forgetting it. The thing is, you can only take so many hits before getting back up stops being just stubbornness and starts being idiocy. And I kind of hit that point when I lost my job, when I got denied unemployment benefits, when I couldn’t make my credit card payment, when I couldn’t make my mortgage payment, when I had to pick and choose whether to have groceries or a much needed oil change for my car.
I’ve been a responsible adult since I was eighteen years old. I had to be. I’d never tell Quinn this, but after our little stunt of running off and getting married, my dad—even with the annulment that apparently never was—still washed his hands of me. I paid my way through school. I did the renovations on my house. I did it all on my own. Because I could. No. Because I can.
Maybe it’s seeing Quinn, but something has changed in me. Some spark of that girl that I used to be, the one who’d stare thedevil in the face and fucking dare him to make a move, has come back to me.
First stop, the unemployment office.
Getting out of my car, I walk in and see Randa Cooper sitting behind the desk. She’s not filing her nails like she did through the entirety of our senior English class. Nope. She’s doing the modern-day equivalent and scrolling through her phone.
“Do you have an appointment, Cecily?”
“No. But I’m more than willing to wait,” I tell her, taking the seat directly across from her desk. I sit up straight in my chair and lock my eyes on her. I’m not going to budge.
Six minutes into the ten minutes I’d betted on, she caves. “Let me see if Mr. Mattingly can help you.”
“Mattingly? Not Davis?”
Her lips purse. “Ms. Davis retired… unexpectedly.”
“Retired?”
Randa leans across the desk and whispers theatrically, “She got fired! Apparently, she’d issued unemployment benefits to a few of her family members back during lockdown… and kept on sending them payments even after they’d gone back to work. It’s those Social Security taxes that tripped her up. Charlie got a legit job and started paying them.”
Charlie Davis got a legit job? Randa might as well have said the moon was made of cheese. “No shit?”
She nods, even as she’s tapping out a message on her keyboard.
