Days of You and Me (16 page)

Quinn had suspected that there was more than met the eye between Tucker and her own roommate, Zelda. I didn’t know them well, but when we’d hung out last summer after Nate and Quinn’s wedding, I’d noticed something, too. Zelda looked out for Tuck, and the two touched in the same way Quinn and I once had.

But clearly Tuck wasn’t interested in pouring out his heart to me today, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to push it. I had enough on my plate without adding anyone else’s heartache.

I’d seen Quinn a few times since she’d come home to Eatonboro after Nate died, but never for very long, and never alone. We’d all converged at Mark and Sheri’s house just about every day since they’d come back to town. I knew Quinn had moved back in with her mother, but she stuck close to Sheri over those days, offering as much support and comfort as she could.

She’d gotten so thin, I’d noticed. Her eyes looked huge in her face, and her clothes hung on her body as they never had before. It ripped me apart, knowing how much she’d sacrificed these months and how much it had cost her.

The first time I saw Quinn after Nate’s death, I’d acted on instinct, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Mia,” I whispered into her ear. “So sorry. Was it . . . bad?” I knew that was a stupid question; of course watching your friend die was horrible, but I also trusted that Quinn would know what I meant.

“It was—hard.” She spoke slowly, as though she were still figuring it out. “It was sad. But it wasn’t the way you think. It was also beautiful and peaceful.” She smiled a little. “Nate went out with the old year. He would’ve liked that, I think. And his mom and I were there. He woke up a little earlier and spoke to us, but . . .” Quinn shook her head. “It was like he wasn’t really there anymore. You know when you’re talking to someone, but you can tell their attention isn’t on you? That’s what was like. His focus had shifted.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around her middle. “As it should.”

“Are you okay?” Again, it sounded dumb, but I had to ask.

“I think so. I was dreading the end, you know? I was terrified. But it wasn’t what I thought it might be. There was something almost holy about it.” She’d stared into the distance, looking over my shoulder, beyond me. “I’ll never forget it, as long as I live.”

The organist came in now and began playing a soft, somber tune as a few more people trickled into the church. Most of them walked to the front to offer their sympathy to Mark, Sheri and Quinn before they took their seats.

“How’s Quinn?” Tucker’s whisper was more of a low-voice, interrupting my thoughts. The church was so quiet that I was sure everyone could hear us.

I lifted a shoulder. “Hanging in there, I think. Mostly trying to stay strong for Mark and Sheri.”

“What’s she going to do . . . now?” Tuck frowned, his brows coming together.

“I don’t have a fu . . .” I glanced up at the cross in the front of the church and then down the pew, where my mother was glaring at me, eyebrows raised. “Freaking clue,” I finished lamely. “I’m not sure Quinn herself does, either. I’m pretty sure her plans began and ended with getting through . . . this.” I circled one finger in front of me, encompassing the whole church. “She’s got her job with that on-line magazine, so I guess she’ll keep doing that. She moved back in with her mom.”

“Uh huh.” Tucker’s lips pressed together. “And what about you? What’re you going to do now that Nate’s gone? Out of the way? Are you going to make a move in that direction? Are you two finally going to make it work?”

“Would you shut the hell up?” I hissed, my eyes darting around us. “We’re at my best friend’s funeral, for God’s sake. I’m not even . . . it’s not the time. Or the place, come to think of it. Try to show a little consideration, okay?”

He smiled a little. “I lived with Nate for four years. I guess I picked up some of his directness. Dude never wasted words, you know? What he thought was what he said. He told me once that he didn’t have time to play games.”

Pain gripped my heart. “Yeah, that sounds like classic Nate. But still, let’s remember his parents and his—his
widow
are sitting in front of us, all right?” I slid him a sideways look. “We’ll talk later.”

The music grew a little louder, and the minister entered through a side door, coming up to take his place in the front. There was a sound at the rear of the church, and I glanced back in time to see Zelda easing closed the door to the sanctuary. Gia stood next to her, hands wringing as she stared down at the floor.

As the two of them walked up the aisle toward Quinn, I knew Tucker’s eyes were following Zelda. His body tensed, and his fingers, resting on the hard wood of the pew, curled into fists.

I watched the girls hug Nate’s parents and Quinn. When Zelda straightened, her gaze wandered over the rest of the sanctuary, pausing when she spotted Tucker and me. She didn’t acknowledge Tuck, but when Gia stepped back, Zelda led her to our row, standing aside so that Gia sat next to my parents and Zelda was on the opposite end from Tuck.

I leaned forward a little and waved. Gia stared straight ahead, unseeing, but Zelda forced a half-smile and nodded.

If I’d thought Quinn looked thin, Gia was positively gaunt. I hadn’t seen her since last summer, at Nate and Quinn’s wedding. Now, she was skin and bones, and her dark hair was cut so short and choppy that I wondered if she’d done it herself. Her skin was pale, almost see-through.

I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. After Matt had committed suicide, I’d promised myself that I’d stay close to Gia, his girlfriend. And for a little while, I had. But then, after Nate and Quinn were married, it was just too hard for me to spend much time up here in Jersey. I’d tried to text Gia or call her when I could, and I’d invited her down for a football game, whenever she wanted to come. But she’d told me it was too painful for her to go to games anymore. She didn’t even watch them on television if she could help it. The reminder of Matt hurt too badly.

It hit me, too, that Nate’s death must be tough for Gia, especially coming on the heels of losing Matt. I remembered now that Quinn had once confided in me that Gia had harbored a secret crush on our friend back in high school, and although neither of them had ever acted on it—everyone knew Nate only had eyes for Quinn—they’d remained good friends. It was possible that outside Quinn and me—and maybe Tuck now, too—Gia had been Nate’s closest friend.

Maybe she felt my gaze on her, because her eyes darted in my direction. She attempted a smile, but her lips only curved in a sort of bizarre imitation before she glanced away, her hands clenched in her lap.

Next to her, Zelda was flawlessly gorgeous, as usual. Her white-blonde hair was twisted into a knot on the back of her head, and her black dress clung to that body like a Corvette to a curvy road. It was short enough to show off her endless legs, and even though I didn’t have any romantic interest in her, there wasn’t any denying how hot she was. It made me wonder all over again why Tucker was sitting next to me, making a point of
not
looking her way.

The music ended, drawing all of our attention to the front of the church as the minister rose to begin the service. I gritted my teeth and got ready to say a final good-bye to yet another friend.

The repast after the funeral was at my parents’ house. Mark and Sheri weren’t up to hosting it, and although Carrie had offered, my mom had convinced them to let her handle it, saying she was going to enlist my brothers and me to do most of the work.

So once I got home, I found myself laying out trays, setting up a beverage station and directing strangers to the bathrooms. Simon came in, carrying a huge tub of ice, followed by Danny with two hot pans of lasagna.

“Where’s Justine? If she’s going to be part of the family, shouldn’t she have to do her share of the work?” Danny eased the food onto hot pads and glanced over his shoulder at our brother. “I mean, if not, what’s the benefit in having her?”

“Dude, the benefits are manifold.” Simon smirked and chucked at cube of ice at Danny. “I’m not giving you details, because I’m a gentleman and shit, but let’s just say she needs to rest up. Save her strength for the important stuff she has to do.”

“And number one on that list of stuff she has to do is you?” Danny picked up the ice from the floor and dropped it down the back of Simon’s shirt.

“Fuck! Get away from me.” Simon shoved at Danny, while I stood back and shook my head.

“First of all, ew. I don’t want to know anything about Justine’s benefits or—whatever. Second, when are you two going to grow the hell up?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Leo.” My mother came sailing into the dining room, a frown on her face. Without missing a beat, she grabbed Simon—who towered over her by a good half a foot—by the back of his neck with one hand and Danny by his arm with the other. “Were you two raised by wolves? This is a funeral, you idiots. A funeral for a boy who we’ve known since he was born, who isn’t going to get to be as old as you two morons.”

Releasing them both, she smacked them on the back of their heads with an impressive synchronized swing of her hands. “Behave. Watch your mouths, or so help me, I’ll drag you upstairs and remind you about the taste of Ivory soap.”

Simon looked a little queasy. “No, thanks. That stuff makes me hurl. Sorry, Ma.” He bent over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

Mom shook her finger at him. “You should know better. Here you are, about to get married yourself, and you’re acting like a toddler.”

Danny, who was never known for either tact or wisdom, piped up unwisely. “I’m not even near getting married. Does that give me a pass?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not in the least. It means you’re not as smart as your brother, who’s found himself a wonderful, beautiful, smart young woman willing to take on his sorry ass. Can you say the same?”

Danny sighed. “No.”

“Didn’t think so. Now get back to work.” She wheeled on me, and I cringed a little, waiting to see why she was going to yell at me.

“Leo, if that’s all the trays, why don’t you go out and talk to Eli and the girls? They looked a little lost.”

“No one calls him Eli, Mom.” Danny peeled the foil off the top of a pan. “Everyone calls him Tucker or Tuck.”

“The boy’s name is Eli, and that’s what I said. Now mind your own business and remember what I told you.”

I trailed my mother out of the dining room and into the den, where my friends had gathered. The older generation, including Nate’s parents, Carrie and my dad, had settled in the living room, but I knew Quinn felt more comfortable here, in the room where we’d played since we were kids. She was in the corner of the couch, her shoes kicked off and her feet tucked beneath her, taking me back in time to when we’d hang out here on a Friday or Saturday night . . . maybe after a football game, or during off-season, after a movie. We’d get here, and I’d immediately head for the kitchen to get us drinks and snacks, because like any healthy teenaged boy, I was always hungry. I’d come back into the den to find Quinn snuggled in the corner of the sofa, and usually, I’d deposit the food on the coffee table and then scoop her up as she squealed, pulling her onto my lap as I sat down.

She’d turn her face up to mine, smiling, and I’d kiss her until the only things that existed in this world were the two of us . . .

“Leo. You okay there, man?” Tuck, sitting in his chair just inside the doorway, snapped his fingers near my ear, and I jerked to awareness, realizing that I’d been standing in the doorway, staring at Quinn as I’d taken that fun little trip down memory lane.

“Yeah, sorry. Just . . . thought of something. Got distracted.” I risked a glance at Quinn, noticing that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide. I wondered if she’d been remembering, too.

Gia was on the sofa too, next to Quinn, and she smiled at me a little as I sat down on the other side of her.

“We were just saying it was a really nice service.”

“Yeah, trust Nate to make it exactly what he wanted, even if he wasn’t around for it.” Tucker gripped the arms of his chair, rubbing his hands over the metal.

“That’s true.” I shifted a little, slinging my arm around Gia’s shoulders. “You doing okay, G? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

She nodded, dropping her gaze to her knees. “Yeah. Busy, you know. Work and school and everything. I had to go up to my sister’s for the holidays, and it pretty much sucked.”

“I told you that you could’ve come home with me.” From the opposite side of the room, about as far away from Tuck as she could get, Zelda was draped into my dad’s old recliner. “There’s nothing like Christmas in Pennsylvania Dutch Country.”

“Thanks.” Gia flashed her a vague smile. “But you know, it was a command performance. Two of them, actually. First was Christmas with my mom, at my sister’s house, complete with tree and church and copious amounts of gifts. A very
Christmas
Christmas, if you know what I mean. And then I took the train into New York so I could partake in holiday number two, which was a sanitized, PC version. My dad’s new girlfriend worships at the altar of Dolce and Gabanna, so it was all very shiny, very modern . . . all chrome, no evergreen or holly. And no church. We saw a show on Broadway, went to a cocktail party with all of Isobel’s vapid friends and ate Chinese food at my father’s penthouse, because he thought I’d appreciate the irony of it.” Her voice was brittle. “I took the train home the next morning and drank a bottle of Scotch.
That
, my friends, was the highlight of my holiday. Ten hours of blissful oblivion.”