Page 49 of Quinton's Quest

“So you’ve said.”

“And it’s true.”

He let out a sigh. “Yeah. Thank you.” He chuckled. “You and Quinton, eh?”

“We’re just friends.” Said as quickly as I could.

“He’s a good guy, Leo. Throws great parties, but also seems really nice. You could do worse.”

“I’m not looking.”

“I wasn’t either. Love—” He swallowed. “Sometimes you don’t have any say in the matter. I choose to try to live without regrets. It’s not always easy, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for contrition, Leo. We both made choices. We both have to live with the consequences. As long as neither of us is bitter—and neither says anything negative to the children—then I think we’ll do okay. We were once best friends. I hope one day we’ll be that again.”

I wanted to tell him that we were still friends. But a shit ton of crap had happened. I was only just learning to trust him again. Clearly, he was still sorting out his complicated feelings for me. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Sayhito Quinton for us. And thank you for letting me know. You didn’t have to…I appreciate that you did.”

“Goodnight, Gideon.”

“Goodnight, Leo.”

He cut the line.

I stood motionless for a very, very long time.

Chapter Thirteen

Quinton

Mama baked her oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for me, as I’d come home from my night shift exhausted and in need of a good six or seven hours of sleep before heading to Leo’s.

“Fresh baked.” Mama placed the container on the table as I ate the meat buns she’d steamed for me. “And not too sweet.”

“You don’t have to cook for me.” I smiled. “I appreciate it—but it’s not necessary.”

She patted my back. “You work hard. I love cooking for my son.”

“You work as hard as I do.”

“Perhaps. I need to stay occupied.”

“You’re eligible to retire.”

“I’m not ready to retire.” She slid into the chair across from me. “What would I do? How would I spend my time? Baking cookies? We’d likely gain weight.”

We were both slender. I did some weight lifting to keep in good shape given how physical the job could be.

“A craft? Volunteering?”

“Quinton, we’ve had this discussion.”

“I just feel like you deserve more.”

Her dark-brown eyes held my gaze. I hadn’t realized how much silver threaded through her black hair. She was aging before my eyes. Yes, that was what happened as people got older—I just didn’t think it would happen with my own mother.