Page 4 of One Night Entanglement

The thing about Jeannie Davis is not a surprise. A lot of employees of our unemployment program have unexpectedly retired courtesy of them helping themselves to some extra benefits during the COVID lockdown. I’d long suspected she was one of them. I smile a little at that. It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving wretch of a human being.

“Miss Hollingsworth?”

I look up to see the mysterious Mr. Mattingly standing in the doorway of one of the offices, so I get to my feet. “Yes.”

“Normally we require an appointment for in-person meetings, but I’ve had a cancellation. Please come in.”

I follow him into the office, and for the first time in a good long while, I have some hope.

Forty-five minutes later,he’s shaking his head. “I don’t understand this. There is no actual foundation for your benefits to have been denied. How did this happen?”

“You’re not from here,” I tell him gently. “And there are things about small towns that are great and things that aren’t. Everyone is connected… and it so happens that the person I reported to the police for driving under the influence was the nephew—by marriage—of your predecessor.”

He’s still shaking his head, his thinning hair swaying with the motion. “I’ve never seen such an ethical breach, Miss Hollingsworth. Had Ms. Davis not retired, I would be reporting this… I can approve you today and you will begin receiving benefits at the end of next week. If you wish to pursue backpay for the weeks you were denied?—”

“I’ve kicked enough hornet’s nests for one day. What I really need, Mr. Mattingly, is help finding a job. I am perfectly willing to commute to Lexington or Louisville if I have to. My preference would be something closer to home, simply because the expense of commuting is prohibitive right now.”

“If I hear of anything, Miss Hollingsworth, I will certainly forward that information to you,” he said, getting to his feet. “Again, I must apologize for the terrible miscarriage of duty that resulted in your being here today.”

This poor man is not going to last long around here. The good ol’ boy system that’s in place will make his very literal and rule-bound brain explode. “Thank you, Mr. Mattingly. You’ve been beyond helpful. I hope you have a wonderful afternoon.”

I leave the office and I want to do a little celebratory dance as I make my way to my car. And I would, but for one thing. Jenna Stevens is parked across the street leaning against the driver’s side door with her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face. She’s watching me with all the venom she can muster. Which is a lot.

And suddenly, I’ve hit my limit. I take off, marching straight toward her. “You wanna go, Jenna? We’ll fucking go. Right here and right now. I’m already unemployed. I don’t have a damn thing to lose.”

I’m halfway across the street when she apparently realizes I’m dead-ass serious and slips behind the wheel. She peels out, just dust and the echo of squealing tires in her wake. And me? I feel good. Okay, so maybe I made a little spectacle of myself. But I’m not sorry. Sorry hasn’t gotten me shit.

So I hop in my car and head home, stopping along the way to splurge on a piece of cake from Sally’s and a bottle of cheap wine. And when I pull up in front of my house, Quinn’s truck is already there. And the thing I’m more excited about than the potential of actual income, of standing up for myself and watching Jenna Stevens bail like a rat from a sinking ship… it’s telling him. Telling him that I’m back. I’m me. And he’s the cause of it.

“Cecily, you are in deep shit,” I whisper to myself. But it doesn’t dim the excitement. Not even a little.

5

Quinn

Her scent precedes her. It kept me awake at night while I was overseas in a fucking tent with the rest of my unit. I'd close my eyes and think about Cecily, the life we were going to have, and the future we should've had. Since we were teenagers, that scent has been the same: coconut with a touch of spice. It used to get me hard when I'd catch a whiff. Still does.

"Are you cooking?" Cecily asks as she comes through the back door, putting her bag on the catch all. She comes over to the island and stands on her tiptoes to watch as I finish seasoning the potatoes and then put the lid on the pan.

"Yeah, it's one of those things I learned how to do once we broke up." I smirk at her over my shoulder. Never mind that I had to. It was either that or starve. "And I'm hungry. Since you weren't here when I got home, I figured you took my advice."

She sighs heavily, closing her eyes. "I did, and I'm not going to lie. It pissed me off, what you said. But you also had a good point. I've been running scared..."

"Ehhh, wouldn't call it running, considering you were okay just to stay in this house."

"You know what I mean." She throws a dish towel at me. "I've let them get in my head. I've let them break me. That's not me. I never should've done that." Her jaw tightens.

Walking over to her, I grip the back of the chair so that I don't reach out and touch her. "It's okay. We all have times in our lives when we'd rather curl up on the couch and wish the morning wouldn't come. But the fact of the matter is, we need each other, Cec. If I'm gonna fight, I need you to do it, too."

"I know." She lifts her shoulder. "That part of me got lost. It's been that way since you left, Quinn. I've put on a brave face, don't get me wrong. People who know me well might not even notice, but I knew if you ever came back, you would." Her tongue slips from between her lips and travels over the dry skin there.

My fingers grip the chair harder.

"What's wrong?" she questions, giving me an odd look.

"I'm trying to remind myself that we aren't together anymore. That I don't have the right to kiss you. Old habits die hard, I guess."

Her eyes grow darker, and that tongue comes out again. "You do have the right, though, don't you? We're still married."

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