Page 35 of The Road to Forever (Beaumont: Next Generation #7)

TWENTY-FOUR

M y phone buzzes with a text.

Justine Floyd

Hope your Christmas was amazing. Free to video chat?

I slip away from the chaos of Christmas cheer and head downstairs to the studio where I know no one will bother me.

My body feels the weight of the surprising revelation that apparently none of my family liked Nola, and I’m worried they won’t like Justine.

As soon as I have the thought, I know it’s bullshit. Everyone already loves Justine.

It’s hard not to.

But they may not love it if I’m with her .

After a few rings, Justine’s face fills my screen, her hair falling loose.

When the tour started, her hair was short, maybe below her chin, and now it’s almost to her shoulders.

Wherever she is—either her apartment or Keane’s house—there’s a soft glow of Christmas lights twinkling behind her, making it look like she sparkles.

“Merry Christmas,” she says, smiling. “You look exhausted.”

I laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Family will do that to you. Especially when there are five babies involved.”

“Five incredibly cute babies,” Justine corrects. “That picture you sent of you holding Juniper—I might have saved it.”

“You did not,” I tease, but I feel a warmth spread through my chest.

“I did. It was sweet.” She adjusts her position, pulling a blanket around her shoulders. “So, how was the big James-Westbury Christmas extravaganza?”

“Chaos. Absolute chaos,” I say, but I’m smiling. “JD nearly woke all the babies when he arrived, Elle showed up with the twins when no one expected them, and Paige got a car for Christmas.”

“A car? Nice.”

“With conditions,” I add, mimicking Liam’s serious tone.

Justine laughs, the sound filling my quiet room. “Of course. How are you doing with . . . everything else?”

I know exactly what she’s asking. “I told them about Nola.”

“How’d that go?”

“Turns out, my family is full of actors. Apparently, no one liked her.” I shake my head. “Elle practically high-fived me.”

“Yikes,” Justine says, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah, well, Elle’s already talking to attorneys about getting Nola’s name off my house.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, I am,” I say without hesitation. “I’m thinking of selling it anyway. It never really felt like mine, you know?”

Justine nods, understanding in her eyes. “Fresh start?”

“Something like that,” I agree. “What about you? How was Christmas with Keane and Chandler?”

“Nice. Low-key. Chandler gave me matching friendship bracelets.” Justine holds up her wrist to show a braided band of colorful threads. “She said she’s trying to get your fans to bring them to the shows so she can swap.”

“That’s sweet,” I say.

We fall into a comfortable silence, just watching each other. I realize how much I’ve missed her, even though it’s only been a few days.

“I wish you were here,” I find myself saying.

Something shifts in Justine’s expression. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, more certain now. “I’ve been holding babies all day, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to share it with you, which I suppose sounds odd.

Maybe even scary. I don’t know. Ever since that kiss in the dressing room, and then on the bus,” I pause and shake my head.

“I really like you, Justine, and I’m afraid people are going to judge me, especially because the world knows I was engaged to Nola, and they don’t know that I’m not anymore.

But then I think about how you’ve been by my side, a constant presence from the second we pulled out of that lot to start the tour, and how slowly this thing between us is building.

I . . .” I inhale deeply to gather the right words.

“I’m tired of waiting for the ‘right time’ to live my life,” I say. “I spent years with Nola, always waiting for the next step that never came. And now, holding my nephews and niece, seeing my sisters with their families . . . I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Quinn—”

“I know, I know. We said we’d take it slow. Figure things out when the tour’s over.” I take a deep breath. “But being here made me realize something.”

“What’s that?” Justine asks, her voice soft.

“I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t want to stop,” I say simply.

“And not because I’m on the rebound or because we work together.

It’s because you listened when I needed someone to hear me.

You didn’t try to fix me or tell me how to feel.

You just . . . were there. I liked having you in my space when everything else felt like it was closing in around me and suffocating me.

You were the breath that pulled me out.”

Justine is quiet for a moment, and I feel my heart thudding in my chest.

“Quinn James,” she finally says, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Are you making relationship declarations on Christmas night, over video chat, while I’m in my pajamas with no makeup on?”

I laugh, relief flooding through me. “You’re beautiful without the makeup,” I tell her. “You’re gorgeous when you’ve been up all night writing songs or after a show and your hair is all wild. I think you’re one of the most stunning women I’ve ever had the chance to be in the presence of . . .”

“Quinn—”

“And yes, I guess I am making relationship declarations on Christmas. Is that okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Justine says. “Because I know I’m falling for you. To be honest, I’ve fallen.”

I feel something settle in my chest, a certainty I haven’t felt in a long time. “When I get back to the tour, we’re going to talk about this properly. Make some real plans.”

“Real plans, I like the sound of that.”, Justine repeats, her eyes sparkling. “What

kind of real plans are we talking about?”

“Well, for starters, I want you to meet my family. The real them, not the tour version.”

“Even Juniper?” Justine teases.

“Especially Juniper,” I say with mock seriousness. “I’ve already told her about you. I think she approves.”

“Oh, does she now?”

“Yep. She’s very discerning for someone who’s only a month old.”

Justine’s smile softens. “I’d like that. Meeting your family. All five babies included.”

“And I want to write with you. Not just tour songs, but real stuff. The kind that means something.”

“I’d like that too,” Justine says. “And maybe . . .” she hesitates.

I feel my heart skip with anticipation.

From upstairs, I hear my name being called. “Quinn! Mom’s making hot chocolate!”

“You should go,” Justine says, hearing the voice. “Enjoy your family time.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” I ask, not quite ready to hang up.

“You better,” Justine says. “Sweet dreams, Quinn.”

“Sweet dreams, Justine.”

As I end the call, I sit for a moment, phone in hand, feeling a lightness I haven’t experienced in years.

It’s not just freedom from Nola, from walking on eggshells or feeling like I’m not enough.

It’s the certainty that with Justine, I’ve found someone who sees me—all of me—and chooses to stay anyway.

“Quinn!” My mom’s voice floats down the stairs again. “The babies are awake!”

I smile to myself. Time to go be Uncle Quinn again. But now, for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to what comes next.

The weather is crisp but welcome. I leave Peyton’s early, needing the fresh air, hoping it will give me, in some odd way, the courage I need to tell my family about Justine.

Telling them that Nola and I are done went better than I thought, but it also freed me to admit my feelings for Justine.

Telling her where my head and heart are felt liberating.

It was like a cinderblock had been lifted off my chest.

Now to tell my family about Justine. I’m not sure if I should tell my parents first and then my sisters or what, but I’m worried about Elle and how she’s going to react. There’s a lot at stake if things with Justine and I go south.

After telling my parents about the breakup yesterday, I figured they would corner me and ask me to share my feelings about it. They didn’t, which was a relief. Except, I wonder how badly I fucked up by dating her. Did anyone like her? I know I did, until I didn’t.

Last night, while I lay in bed—thinking about going up to Juniper’s room and holding her—I thought back to the beginning of the tour, looking for the first clue when I stopped liking Nola.

When I stopped loving her. I can’t pinpoint the moment, but I can safely say that each memory includes Justine, and I believe there’s a reason for that.

I climb the now steady ladder of the Beaumont water tower and walk the mesh walkway until I come to the spot I’ve sat in a few times.

This was never my thing. Not like Noah’s or the twins’.

Once Noah graduated, I didn’t come back here.

The people we hung with were his friends, not mine.

I gravitated toward the band kids. They were more my speed, willing to jam on the weekends instead of getting drunk.

Leaning back, my head touches the cool metal of the long defunct water container.

Liam has fought hard to keep this here, calling it a tradition of Beaumont teens, a rite of passage.

The town was going to tear it down until Liam offered to buy the property.

Without a doubt, this place is a liability, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He wants the kids to have the same high school experience he did.

A truck pulls in and parks. Liam, JD, and my dad. They get out and head this way, only without a cooler of beer, which I suppose is a good thing since it’s too early for that shit. Another truck pulls in—and backs up to the tower—this time it’s Noah and Ben.

“Hey,” my dad says when he and Liam get to my spot.

“Hey. What are you guys doing here?”

“Nick called, said he saw you walking over this way, and there’s only one reason we come to the tower,” Liam says as he sits down.

“Oh, yeah, what’s that?” I ask, laughing lightly.