Page 132 of When We Were Reckless
We went for coffee in the cafeteria. I didn’t want coffee, but it was clear that they had something to say, and until they said it, I wasn’t getting anywhere near their daughter.
They asked me to wait until Quinn was older, and if I still wanted to be with her then, they wouldn’t try to stop us. Really big of them. Note the sarcasm.
“No disrespect, but this is Quinn’s decision, not yours.”
That’s what I told them. I was prepared to fight for Quinn. She was worth it. Nobody was worth fighting for more than Quinn was.
“What are you doing with your life now, Jesse?” Mark had asked, his tone casual, although I suspected it was anything but.
Not sure it was any of their business, but I told them anyway. I didn’t want to be combative with Quinn’s parents. She loved them, and they were just trying to look out for her. Couldn’t really blame them for that. If I had a daughter, I would do the same.
“So you’ll be traveling a lot.”
I nodded. Couldn’t deny that either.
Long story short, they grilled me about my life choices for thirty minutes, and by the end of our conversation, one thing was blindingly obvious. For the next year, for the foreseeable future, really, I wouldn’t be around much. I’d signed a contract with an FMX team, and we were set to tour North America and then Europe.
In the end, it was my decision to walk away from Quinn.
Not because I didn’t love her, but because I did. I couldn’t expect her to build her life around mine. To sit around and wait for me while I was traveling. That conversation with Quinn’s parents reminded me of everything Alessia had said to me about the sacrifices she’d made for my career. In Alessia’s case, that wasn’t entirely accurate, but nevertheless, there was some truth in it.
It wasn’t the life I wanted for Quinn. I didn’t want her to give up anything for me. Not when she’d worked so hard to get to where she was.
So I walked away and told myself it was the best thing I could do for her.
I had been telling myself the same thing every single day for the past month.
I wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t responded to any of my text messages.
Until today. Today she sent me a text.
I reread it in the van on the way back to Temecula. Colby was passed out in the seat next to me, and the adrenaline rush had worn off. I loved the highs, but I hated the lows.
Dear Jesse, if I had your address, I’d send you a letter. Or a birthday card.
I typed and deleted this message so many times, and I’m still not sure if I’ll send it. But I just wanted you to know that I don’t blame you for anything. It was my fault that I fell off your motorcycle. I let go. I let go because I felt like that was what I needed to do. To stop holding on so tightly to a dream that was never mine.
And I lied to you. I just wanted you to know that too. I lied because I didn’t want you to think that I wanted more. Which was stupid. Why should I feel like I deserved so little? But that’s not entirely true either. You gave me so much. You really did. I’ve gone to the beach a few times, cast and all, and I wore a bikini top with shorts while I hung out with my new friends. It makes me feel like a badass. Like a brave warrior for baring my scars. You always made me feel beautiful, and that was such a great gift.
I finished the book I was writing. You helped me with that too.
So even though I’m angry with you, and sometimes I convince myself that I hate you, I’ll never forget what you did for me. It was a good ride, Jesse. I don’t regret a single minute. Happy Birthday from your sunshine girl
As if I needed further proof that Quinn was worth fighting for, she sent me that text.
Fuck it. I didn’t want to go another day without telling Quinn how I felt about her. But that wasn’t something you could do in a text or on the phone.
Chapter Forty-Six
Quinn
Last week,I kissed a boy who wasn’t Jesse. A California boy with dirty blond hair and bronzed skin. He knew how to surf, and he said he’d teach me when I got my cast off. But I felt like I was cheating on my first love, so I said no. Which was so stupid.
Because my first love had left me, hadn’t he? And God, I had cried for weeks over him. Meanwhile, he’d ghosted me. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d texted me, but his texts made me so angry I hadn’t even bothered replying.
I’m sorry. For everything.
As if to say I had been a mistake and he was sorry he ever got involved with me. So no, I didn’t reply because he didn’t even deserve a response. But three days ago, I texted him for his birthday, and as soon as I’d hit send, I regretted it.
