Saving Quinton (Nova #2)(19)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

Lea parks a ways back in the gravel parking lot and then turns off the headlights, like she’s scared someone is going to see us. We lock the doors and leave the engine running. There are hardly any vehicles around and the ones that are parked in the area look like they haven’t moved in ages. There’s a massive billboard near the entryway, but the paint is peeling off and I can’t tell what it used to be an advertisement for. There are also a group of women loitering at the bottom of the stairway, smoking cigarettes, chatting and being really loud. I don’t want to be judgmental, but they look like hookers, wearing tight dresses, bras for tops, and five-inch stilettos or knee-high boots.

We have the air cranked up full blast and the sky is nearly black, the sunlight about to completely disappear behind the horizon. Behind us the city flashes in the distance, neon colors and sparkling sighs, and I can almost feel the electricity in the air.

“What number did you say it was?” Lea asks as she pushes the emergency brake on.

I check the screen of the GPS. “It says twenty-two, but…” I look back up at the building, squinting to see if the doors have numbers on them. Lights on above some of the doors and I can tell some have numbers, but not all of them.

“Maybe we should come back in the morning,” Lea suggests, biting her fingernails as she eyes the group of women near the stairway. Lea has never been part of the drug world and even though she’s gone to parties, they’ve been mellow parties with kegs and wine coolers, where people hang out and dance, not get stoned and either pass out or trip out of their minds.

I want to say yes to her suggestion and tell her we should go home, but at the same time I can’t help but think of the what-ifs. Like what if I walk away right at this moment and something bad happens to Quinton tonight? Or what if he vanishes overnight? Plus, knowing he’s probably right there, in one of the apartments just in front of me, makes it hard to walk away. What if I miss my chance like I did with Landon? What if I leave and never get the courage to come back? What if something bad happens?

Shit.

Nova, stop it.

Stop thinking about the past.

Focus on the future.

“Okay.” I pry my fingers off the edge of the seat, then reach over my shoulder to grab the seat belt. “I’ll come back in the morning when the sun’s up.”

“We’ll come back.” She pops the emergency brake. “I don’t want you coming here alone and I promised your mom I’d take care of you.”

“I feel like a child,” I admit, buckling the seat belt. “And you’re my baby-sitter…I feel like my mom should be paying you or something.”

“She just loves you,” Lea says as she starts to put the shifter forward. “And I’m happy to do it…it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

I hesitate. “Lea, are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened with you and Jaxon?”

She bites her bottom lip as she fights back the tears. “Not yet…I just can’t yet, okay? Especially not here.”

“Okay…well, I’m here when you’re ready.” I sit back, fidgeting with the leather band on my wrist. I feel restless but attempt to hold still as she starts to back the Chevy Nova out of the parking lot, cranking the wheel to the side. I start to settle down as she gets the car turned around, but then I see a guy walking up beside the car, heading for the apartments with a large bag of ice in his hand.

“Wait a minute…” I mutter, leaning toward the window. “I know him.”

“What do you mean you know him?” Lea asks, pressing on the gas.

I don’t respond, too fixated on an old memory walking just to the side of me, like a ghost. Even in the dark, I recognize Tristan’s blond hair and facial features immediately, although his cheeks are a little sunken and either his pants are just really baggy or he’s lost a lot of weight. Still, I know it’s him.

He looks like he’s in a hurry, smoking a cigarette as he strides for the apartments, his lips moving like he’s talking to himself.

“Stop the car,” I say, reaching for the door handle.

“Nova, what the hell!” Lea exclaims as I crack the door open before she can even get the car stopped. She taps on the brakes and I push the door open all the way and swing one of my legs outside. But then I pause when the seat belt locks and jerks me back against the seat.

“Shit,” I curse and press back against the seat to unbuckle it.

“What are you doing?” Lea asks with wide eyes as she holds her foot on the brake, keeping the car halted at a crooked angle.

“I know that guy.” I push the door open the rest of the way as Tristan starts to take notice of us—or the car, anyway. He pauses to admire it as I land just outside the car with an ungraceful stumble but regain my balance quickly.

He grazes his thumb across the cigarette, sprinkling ash on the ground before putting it back between his lips. “Hey, what kind of car is that…?” He trails off as I step forward and the lights from the motel and the street give him just enough of a glow to see my face. “Holy shit, Nova,” he says with a bit of a startled laugh, his lips parting and his cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth. He quickly plucks it from his lips and positions it between his fingers, continuing to gape at me. “Where the hell did you come from?”

I point back at my car. “I drove here,” I say, not ready to tell him the real reason. Tristan, while nice for the most part, is also in as deep as Quinton is, and the last thing I want to do is declare to him why I wanted—needed to come down here.

“I can tell that…” He looks at the car with appreciation. The lights around us fall across his face and I’m even more aware of how different he looks: tougher, rougher, harder, drowning in more darkness, and I wonder what exactly he’s been doing to get to this place. “Is that your car?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s mine.” I wrap my arms around myself, even though it’s not cold. It’s almost like a defense mechanism as old feelings press up like shards of glass and vivid memories of the time I spent with Tristan swarm through my mind. “It was my dad’s…or used to be, anyway.”

His brows knit. “You didn’t drive that back in Maple Grove, did you?”

I shake my head. “No, I always rode around in Delilah’s truck.”

“Yeah…she actually got rid of that a few months ago,” he says. “Sold it, you know, so she could have some cash.”