“C’mon, Rae. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
The bright sting of tears stopped Rae from readying a defense. Better than most people, she knew just how awful Quinn’s parents were—once, she’d had the misfortune of crossing the Galeckis’ path. Ironically, she’d been the same age Quinn was now, a naive kid without the experience to understand the danger she’d put herself in.
“I see it differently,” she tossed back, aware that she couldn’t justify her actions without telling Yuna about that night. Which will never happen. I’ll never discuss it with anyone. Frustrated, she added, “Doesn’t Quinn have anything better to do with his free time?”
“We both agree Quinn isn’t a bad kid. He’s a seventeen-year-old who’s been through too much. Does it matter if he walks around the barn?”
“It matters to me—and to my dad. He’s retired and spends too much time worrying about the . . . reconnaissance. At least that’s how he sees it. If he catches the kid trespassing, he’ll blow a fuse. He’s not Quinn’s number one fan.”
“Maybe Connor needs to recharge his social life. Whatever happened to his geriatric homeboys? He hardly sees them anymore. At least you have diversions—working too many hours and driving me to distraction. On weekends, you both spend too much time cooped up in the house.”
Rae bristled. It was bad enough that Quinn worked part-time at the shop. A definite breach of her friendship with Yuna, although the reason for the act of charity was obvious. Yuna had given Quinn the job last November, a few weeks after his unnerving questioning by the PD. The officers had kept him on the hot seat for hours before releasing him—a grueling ordeal for any kid.
Under normal circumstances, Yuna’s charitable instincts were great. Rae also believed in fighting for the underdog. The two women had first grown close while volunteering at Chardon’s food bank, nearly a decade ago. The following year, they’d sealed their friendship by cochairing the committee tasked with expanding the local Meals on Wheels program for seniors.
The Galecki boy was different. Not only because of the startling facts Rae continued to resist. Not only due to the PD’s report, which she’d tossed into a forgotten drawer. Quinn was off-limits. The reasons were complicated, with roots deep in a seedbed of shame too dreadful to share.
A frigid silence overtook the stockroom. Rae wasn’t sure how to break it.
Yuna said, “Tell me what to do to make you feel better. Name it. I’ll do whatever you’d like.”
The comment broke through Rae’s muddled thoughts. Moisture collected at the corners of her eyes. She felt vulnerable and confused. The combination blurred her vision as the office chair groaned to a halt.
Yuna came to her feet. “Should I have a heart-to-heart with Quinn?” On tiptoe, she studied Rae closely. “Persuade him to stop trespassing on your property? It’ll open the door to a conversation I don’t want to have with him. He’s not ready to talk about it, and I’m not either. I’m hurting too, you know.”
“I know.”
“I’m his employer, not the village priest. It’ll weird him out if I meddle in his private life.”
Rae took a swipe at her watery nose. “Get real,” she muttered, hating the way she fell apart without warning. Her eyes were leaky too, spilling hot rivulets down her face. “Quinn doesn’t have a private life. He has school, part-time work, and a future of breaking and entering. He’s getting lots of practice, sneaking around my place.”
“Stop complaining—and hold still.” Yuna was a head shorter, but her maternal instincts were on full display. With soothing movements, she wiped the tears away. When she finished, she asked, “What’s the verdict? How do you want me to handle this with Quinn?”
Distracted, Rae combed her fingers through the tumbling lengths of her reddish-gold hair. Did she really want her bestie to have a heart-to-heart with the kid? It didn’t seem like a great solution.
As if there were a great solution on offer. There wasn’t.
“Don’t you own a hairbrush?” Yuna asked. With a sudden grin, she twirled a hank of Rae’s hair. “Let’s schedule an intervention at my salon. Bring smelling salts for my stylist.” She wagged the long strands, drawing a howl of protest. “After we revive her, she’ll make you look fabulous.”
Rae swatted her away. “What’s your next suggestion? A fashion overhaul, like metallic leggings on my oak-tree legs? Girlfriend, you’re crazy.”