Page 3

3

IS THIS AN INTERVIEW?

QUINN

My Saturdays are Maggie-free, which I am usually happy about. Today it’s a rude reminder that all my days will be Maggie-free after next week.

I’m not sure where to go from here. It’s not just that I’m out of a job and baby snuggles, I’m also losing a place for Kronk.

I can’t say I’ve ever been upset about not having to rely on my father for anything because he has been absent from my life. However, it’s a different story when it comes to financial support. Unlike many others at Cypress who have family to help them out, I don’t have that luxury. As a result, I live like your typical broke college student.

For the entirety of my time here, I’ve lived in the same dorm. The existence of the university’s year-round dormitory residency is something I’m eternally grateful for. It’s spared me the hassle of moving in and out every academic term, or being forced to go crawling back to a home I’m not welcome in, begging for a place to stay over summer break because traveling to my aunt’s is simply not feasible. I think I would rather sleep on a park bench than go anywhere near my parents’ home, even now that they aren’t there. Kruz has offered for me to stay with her too many times to count, but my setup works and I have never wanted to put her family out.

The dorms are nicer than any apartment I could afford, though super fucking old. They’re nothing like a normal dorm, not that I’ve attended any other college to know for sure, but I can’t imagine that many others are so aged .

Like the rest of the school, the air in the dormitories is thick and stagnant. Cold . Stone walls, stone floors, stone fucking everything, and it’s all poorly lit and creepy as shit.

I don’t have a roommate because I ended up in the dorm no one else wanted—the one everyone is convinced is haunted by its former resident. Usually, students can’t pick their own dorm rooms, but after several people who were assigned this room complained about strange occurrences and requested to switch, I volunteered to take it. I figured that even if it had a spooky reputation, at least I’d have a place to myself.

The only thing scary I’ve noticed is the black mold growing around the bottom of the walls in the unexplainably always damp corners.

That… and yesterday when I felt like someone was watching me in the community showers. But there was no evidence of that, so I chalked it up to my recent anxiety-induced paranoia. Thanks, Dad.

I’m overall happy with my living situation, with one exception: I can’t have Kronk here because pets aren’t allowed.

I’ve been lucky that every family I’ve worked for has been kind enough to allow him a space in their homes. It’s an unconventional, complicated accommodation, but one they’ve each been happy to oblige out of their desperation for hard-to-come-by in-home childcare. He’s still with me most of the time because I’m either in their homes with their kids or taking him out for doggie adventures. He mostly just sleeps there, but I’d give almost anything to snuggle up next to him at night too.

If we can make it to the end of the next term, that dream will be a reality. Once graduation comes, I'll be truly free to provide for myself and my furball and start a new chapter away from the shadow of my parents.

There was a time when my parents gave a shit about me before they decided parenting wasn’t for them, presumably in the newborn phase of my life being that I spent the first several years after that with various nannies I don’t remember—until the day my dad got fucked up on coke and thought it would be a great time to bond with his daughter. A cop pulled him over for erratic driving. I was taken away there on the spot and would have likely been given right back to him if my aunt hadn’t stepped in and finally convinced them I would be better off with her. I will never stop being thankful that she chose me when no one else would.

My dad faced no repercussions after that initial slap on the wrist. It’s amazing what can be swept under the rug when you’re in The Assembly. They don’t hold their members to any higher standard in that regard, and even the cops in this town are under their thumb, turning a blind eye to the illicit activities that run rampant. It’s commonplace; casually buying, selling, and running expensive drugs. What’s low-class when you’re poor becomes high-class when you’re wealthy, and the Assembly’s grip on this town only reinforces that divide. It’s just one more reason I loathe every single one of them.

At some point early on, he set up an irrevocable trust I’d receive once I graduated college. I could get it sooner in other ways, but this is the closest life event. Once I’ve graduated from the undergraduate program, the money will be mine and I won’t have to worry about figuring out my living situation going into my Master’s years.

He’s always held it over my head even though I couldn’t have given a shit less. I have never felt obligated to him in the way he wanted me to. It’s the least he could have done after leaving it to his sister to provide for me for a large portion of my childhood.

An October breeze greets me as I step outside the doors of my building. The clouds are swollen and dark. They hang low in the sky, casting a duskiness over the campus and blocking out the midday sun. I breathe in the autumn air, closing the heavy wooden door behind me.

I put off texting Jack all yesterday evening. After I finally managed to coax Kronk into his kennel for the night, my mind was solely focused on retreating into the comfort of my cozy little cave after a long, exhausting day.

I probably should have been the one to text first since it was my idea and I am the one who owes him lunch, but I fell asleep before I remembered and woke up this morning with a single text from him: Emely’s at noon .

I texted back: Bossy .

He didn’t reply after that.

Even though he didn’t answer, I decided to show up anyway. Worst case, I’d have lunch alone and save the cash I would have spent on his.

I walk the tree-lined path down the slope that leads into town. The leaves crunch beneath my feet with each step, releasing the earthy scent of fall.

Emely’s is a cute café at the bottom of the incline my dorm is seated atop, and just across the quiet street. The university buildings look so much larger at street level. They tower over everything, often making me feel smaller and more insignificant than I already do without their assistance.

I push open the door and the smell of roasting coffee wraps around me as I step inside. Scanning the room, I don’t see Jack yet so I join the line at the counter to order an iced espresso while I wait.

I settle onto a wooden barstool at a corner table, my back pressed against the wall for a clear view of the entrance.

I spend the passing minutes scrolling on my phone and reading over my assignment for the fifty bajillionth time since yesterday, trying to figure out exactly what it is that I need to fix since Professor Jackass gave me approximately zero feedback. Just as the barista calls my name, the door opens and Jack walks in. His brown hair is a mess and he looks like he just rolled out of bed before coming, which is highly probable because there’s a baby only a few months older than Maggie strapped to his chest. He yawns and a tiny hand reaches up to forcefully shove all five fingers into his open mouth. He jerks back from the sudden intrusion, then his eyes soften as he gently guides the baby’s tiny fingers to wrap around his own, planting a gentle kiss on their delicate skin.

Our eyes meet, and a smile forms on his lips, still pressed against the back of the baby’s hand.

My stomach does the thing.

I momentarily wonder if he’s broke as fuck living off ramen and expired red bull, nannying his way through his bachelor’s degree too. It can’t be that uncommon of an occurrence. Then I realize we are both whole-ass adults, perfectly capable of having children of our own. Which is scary to me personally because most of the time I feel like a twenty-two-year-old teenager.

I grab my coffee from the counter on my way to greet him. It occurs to me then that this man might be married, and I should not be looking at him like a field scientist lost somewhere in the desert thirsting after a mirage of an oasis.

Even with—maybe even especially with—a baby attached to him and baby vom crusted on his shirt sleeve, I think I am developing a crush.

I take a long drink, attempting to drown all the nerves that have decided to join this party.

I force myself to relax, plastering a warm smile on my face and moon eyes that I aim at the baby. “Who’s this little cutie?”

“This is Sienna.” His tone is full of affection, and at the sight of me, Sienna twists violently in her carrier, her wispy brown hair catching the light as she reaches for me to rescue her from her confines. Her bright blue eyes sparkle with curiosity, making her look even more adorable.

“Hi, pretty girl.” I coo, looking to Jack for permission before I attempt to swipe his child away from him.

“Be my guest,” he sighs in relief as he releases the straps holding her in place.

She all but leaps into my waiting arms, clinging to me like a baby koala.

“So friendly, little bear.” He caresses the back of her head as she lays it against my shoulder. The gesture feels intimate, not just toward Sienna, but me too because I’m trapped in the middle of them.

It’s not as uncomfortable as I feel like it should be.

He gestures for me to hop in line with him so we can order lunch, and I do but I am distracted by the wiggly little girl in my arms. I’m too busy playing peekaboo to notice that he’s ordered and paid for both our meals until it’s too late to protest.

I frown at him while Sienna tries forcing my hand back over my eyes. “Hey. Last I checked this meal was on me.”

He closes his wallet and stuffs it into the back pocket of his jeans, which fit him a little too well and I might have just accidentally drooled. “Was it? I forgot.”

I give him a look of annoyance. “How do you know I don’t have food allergies?”

“Do you?”

Sienna bounces and pats my chest with her tiny hand. She’s giddy for no reason at all and it’s hard to be upset with such a little ball of energetic joy in my arms. “No. But I might be picky.” I’m not.

“Sienna wants you to try her favorite sandwich.” We slowly make our way to the table I abandoned to greet them, and Jack pulls up a high chair. I settle into my seat, content to hold her in my lap.

“You can’t use the baby against me. She only has two teeth.”

“She’s working on a third.”

I roll my eyes and bounce her on my knees. “Is Daddy impossible?”

She giggles like she understands and is used to his bullheadedness.

I want to address the elephant in the room and can’t quite figure out how to casually ask, so I jump off into the deep end. “Are you in a relationship? Married?”

He releases a choked sound of surprise. “ No .”

“Good because it would be super weird of me to have lunch with two-thirds of your family, neither of which is your wife.”

“Sienna is biologically my sister’s daughter, but mine in every other way.”

I don’t know their situation. His sister could be dead for all I know, but my heart still fractures and a long-held bitterness seeps out of the cracks.

The look on my face is enough for him to answer my unspoken question. “She dipped.”

How anyone could abandon their child is so far beyond comprehensible to me. I can feel the word vomit creeping up my throat when someone calls Jack’s name, signaling that our food is ready. I’m left to gather my composure and when he returns with a plastic food basket in each hand and drinks nestled in the crook of one of his arms, I’ve stuffed my childhood trauma back where it belongs: away.

I can’t say I’m disappointed with Sienna’s favorite sandwich. Turkey and apples on a thick slice of crispy sourdough bread with melted white cheddar oozing out the sides—but I’m most excited about the side of pumpkin mac and cheese.

He takes Sienna from my lap to place her in the high chair. She only protests a little and settles quickly when she notices the small bowl of blueberries he’s ordered for her. He plucks one from the ceramic dish and smashes it between his thumb and forefinger. She opens her mouth like a baby bird and he places it on her waiting tongue. “What are you studying?”

The abrupt subject change might have given me whiplash if I wasn’t so eager for it. “Forensic Psychology. I graduate in the spring. Maybe.”

I was being dramatic.

“ Maybe? ”

His quirked eyebrow is far too sexy and I focus on picking at a burnt piece of cheese attached to the crust of my sandwich when I answer. “CRIM 456 might be the bitter end for me. Professor Hollis is such a dick.”

He’s silent for a beat too long, and when I look up at him he’s hyper-focused on putting a straw in Sienna’s water cup. “So I’ve heard.”

“At least it’s not just me.” I sigh and sink back into my seat, relieved. For a second I thought I’d stuck my foot in my mouth, talking shit about his cousin or something.

“Anything I can maybe help with?” he offers. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty great tutor.”

I tap my password into my phone. The assignment is still pulled up, and I slide it across the table to him. “His response to this was simply to fix it . No other feedback, no pointing out what I did wrong on an assignment I spent literal hours on.”

He reads it over, murmuring the words aloud and mindlessly feeding Sienna as he does. “ The victims in the case were all young women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. Targeted because they fit a certain physical profile the offender found attractive. Victims were from various backgrounds and had no apparent connection to each other .”

He refocuses his attention on his baby and offers her another drink before continuing. “Your analysis is too vague. It lacks the depth most professors probably expect from a fourth-year student. ‘Young women between eighteen and twenty five’ and ‘a certain physical profile’ are not specific enough for a thorough victimology. You need to detail their socioeconomic backgrounds, routines, and any other potential commonalities beyond just age and physical appearance. Explore some possible psychological reasons why the offender targeted this specific group. Fix those aspects and your dick professor will likely be more than pleased with your revised submission.”

“Damn. Thanks.” I take my phone back and lay it to the side. “Maybe it’s just me. I have so much else on my mind. Hopefully I can shake it soon.”

He nods thoughtfully.

I wonder how he’d feel if I chose now to drop the bomb of things I have on my mind—including, but not limited to the fact that the police found at least seven variations in the pattern of footprints on my dad’s white button-up and bruised into his skin, and me wondering whether or not the long term care facility I’ve chosen for my mother is the right one.

I guess the nurses and caregivers there can make unbiased decisions about her care with my permission, assessing her needs without the emotional baggage I carry. That has to be good enough, right?

“He could still provide better feedback than ‘fix it’,” I pout.

“Yeah, he could. Cut him some slack, though. Maybe he has a lot on his plate too.” He has a point, but I’m not admitting that out loud. He wipes Sienna’s face clean with a napkin while she tries like hell to wrench herself out of his reach.

“How do you juggle classes and caring for a baby full-time?” I can barely juggle classes and caring for someone else’s baby part-time.

“It’s rough.” He looks at me pointedly. “My mother helps where she can, but I haven’t had any luck finding a nanny.”

My heart skips a beat.

“You mentioned yesterday that your current gig is temporary? OW—” He jerks his hand away from Sienna’s mouth and inspects the indentations left behind by her teeth. She squeals like she’s proud of herself, causing us both to laugh.

“It wasn’t supposed to be,” I finally answer. “But as of next week, I’m jobless. And Kronk is homeless.”

“I thought he was yours?”

“My nannying comes with a stipulation on my part. Kronk can’t stay in the dorms.”

He swallows a mouthful of mac and cheese. “ Ah . I see.”

My eyes are drawn to how his throat moves when he takes a long drink of water and I mentally slap myself.

He’s thoughtful for a moment. “I have a huge fenced yard.”

I would be surprised, but there’s a lot of old money in Hallow. It’s not unheard of for students to already have a nice place of their own. That would likely be the case for me if I had parents who cared enough to actually parent me. “Is this an interview?”

“Do you want it to be?”

I look at Sienna. She cheeses at me with all two of her adorable little baby teeth, the corners of her mouth stained purple. “Yeah. I think I do.”

A grin splits his face and my stomach dips again. I can practically feel the pull of his energy, and I wonder what exactly I’m getting myself into.

I spent the rest of the day revising my paper based on Jack’s very helpful feedback. Once I submitted the fixed version it took all of thirty minutes before I received a response from Professor Douche Canoe: Much improved. Your detailed victimology provides a clearer understanding of the offender’s targeting patterns and psychological motivations. This depth of analysis is essential for profiling and investigation. Keep this level of detail in your future assignments.

Maybe I should give him a nicer nickname.