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Though he felt he could argue that point, Quinn didn't want to talk about her right now, but he was interested to know she was still in the area by the sounds of it. He had no intention of letting either of them know that his mind went straight to her at the mention of a long lost love.

Quinn was reaching for his drink again when Chris shrugged. "Not that it matters, I guess. She got engaged."

The rocks glass tipped over, ice and whiskey spilling onto the bar. "Shit…" Quinn began to reach across the bar at the stack of napkins to clean it up, frustrated that his hands were shaking and betraying his plan to keep it cool. "Engaged? When?"

"Oh, that's right," said Jett, using a much more effective bar towel to clean up the mess, "Sometime last February, I think. Some big shot corporate lawyer."

At that moment, Quinn was completely unaware of his facial expressions or actions. All he knew was the knotted feeling in his stomach was back and he really needed another drink. A double.

"Name’s Emerson Yates," said Chris. "He's a big, Thor-looking dude."

Quinn's face twisted in disgust and he scoffed.

" Emerson Yates? Is he fucking sixty years old?

Does he smoke a pipe in his fucking study with, what, leather-bound books in his.

..his fucking plantation? The fuck kinda name is that?

Emerson Yates? " He shook his head. "You guys are shitting me.

There's no way the Rae I knew would marry a guy named fucking Emerson Yates . "

Chris and Jett exchanged triumphant looks and Quinn realized his mistake too late. With a grin, Chris said, "I don't remember mentioning Rae. Do you remember me saying that name?"

"No, I don't, Chris" said Jett in the same obnoxiously aloof tone. "That is interesting though. "

"Fuck you guys," said Quinn, taking a refill from Jett. Well played, they got him. Since there was no taking it back he asked, "So, you guys were messing with me?"

"Technically, no," Jett said. "They did get engaged last February."

Chris paused before providing the last piece of information. “It only lasted a couple of months though.”

Quinn let out a long breath, feeling both relieved and annoyed at how relieved he was that Rae really wasn't getting married. "What happened?"

"The guy was an asshole. He cheated on her," Jett replied, leaning against the bar top.

"More than once, from what I heard," Chris added. "I don't know the details-”

“I do!” Jett piped in proudly. “I know it all.”

Quinn turned a curious eye on Jett, “Oh yeah?”

Chris snorted. “You know Jett; all the ladies go to him when their love lives come crashing down, but not for anything else.”

Jett glared before snapping the bar towel at Chris. “Dick.”

Anger simmered momentarily in Quinn's stomach as he found himself caught between being outraged for Rae that someone would do that to her, and yet grateful that it meant she at least wasn’t getting married.

Satisfied that they'd gotten Quinn to admit he did in fact think of Rae as his One That Got Away, the conversation transitioned into discovering what Chris and Jett had been up to since they'd last seen each other. Jett was still a bachelor, and according to Chris, had absolutely no game.

Chris was happily married, which Quinn had known.

He remembered feeling awful about not being able to be there for the wedding, but had sent a generous check to the newlyweds, hoping to make up for his absence.

They’d already started a family and had a two-year-old daughter, Sophia.

Chris shared pictures in the way all proud fathers do, with a beaming smile at each image of his daughter doing literally anything- striking a pose with her mother, eating a birthday cupcake, or dancing in the kitchen.

"Wait, do you think you could be my wing-man?" Jett pointed at Quinn. "I mean, you're Quinn fucking Casey! If they see me with you-"

"They'll take one look at you and go home with him," Chris said, cutting him off.

Jett took the bar towel and whipped Chris in the shoulder while Quinn laughed. His face was sore from laughing so much and he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed just sitting down with two people and talking about life.

"First of all," said Quinn, "Stop calling me Quinn fucking Casey, it's just weird from you guys. Maybe you should start calling yourself Jett fucking Miller, the confidence will come, and you'll finally get a little action."

"I told him it’s all about confidence. It’s like he clams up and forgets how to speak when there’s a pretty girl in front of him," Chris said.

Quinn finished his drink and slid the empty glass across the bar. "I should probably get going, but I'll come back tonight when you've got some girls in here and observe. Worst case scenario, nothing changes for you and I get to take someone back to my hotel room."

"Fuck you, man," Jett said, unable to hide his grin.

"Good luck," Chris said, giving Quinn another back-slapping hug. Jett came around the bar to give Quinn a handshake, pulling him in and slapping his back, too.

"Oh, before you take off," Chris ripped a half piece of paper out of his notebook and wrote something down. "Rosewood Medical Group. They offer a ton of different services, but their sports medicine PT is the best around. Athletes from all over the state request appointments there."

Quinn looked down at the piece of paper then back at his friend, “Thanks, man.

I didn't bring any of my people to schedule shit for me, so this will save me some time doing research.

" He grabbed the wallet out of his back pocket, awkwardly fumbling between holding the piece of paper and opening the wallet.

"Jett, just grab something out of my wallet for your tip and put this in its place," Quinn said, giving up the task and handing it over.

Jett opened the leather wallet and let out a low whistle. "All I see are hund-o's." He slid a blue-tinted one-hundred dollar bill out and waved it in front of Quinn.

"Take two if you want, just don't lose that paper," said Quinn. He felt it was the least he could do for these guys after being absent for so long.

With his wallet back in place, Quinn told the guys he'd see them again soon, put his sunglasses on and stepped back out into the sunshine and seventy-five degree weather, the bright sun shocking after the dimly lit bar.

He felt significantly better after seeing his friends, letting some truth off his chest for a change.

He hadn't even been perfectly honest with Mitch and Zoey about why he had to come to Michigan, and why he needed to come alone.

Knowing that he had real friends in his corner who knew about the skeletons in his closet made the prospect of entering his old house a little less daunting.