Jessica Sorensen: Saving Quinton

Jaxon lowers his hand onto his lap and grins as he brushes his hair out of his eyes. “As much as I’d love to sit here and listen to you bounce your brilliant ideas off each other all day, I have an idea that might be a lot simpler.”

Lea flourishes her hand at him and the tension between the two of them appears to have been alleviated a little. “Well, then you have our undivided attention, O brilliant one.”

He covers his mouth with his hand, hiding a grin. “Why don’t I call this Delilah and see if I can sweet-talk her into giving up their location.”

“Because you’re so much more charming than the two of us,” Lea says, playfully prodding him in the side with her foot. “Why would she give up her address to you, if she wouldn’t even give it to Nova, and she knows Nova?”

“Um, because I’m a guy.” He points at himself. “And I can be very charming when I want to.”

“True,” Lea agrees. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.” She looks at me questioningly. “What do you think, Nova?”

“I think it’s worth a try.” I slant to the side to get my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts.

“Let me call her from mine, since she’s been ignoring your calls,” Jaxon says, reaching for his phone in the pocket of his pants.

I tuck my phone back into my pocket. “Good point,” I tell him as he swipes his finger across the screen. “And Jaxon?”

He glances up at me. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” I say, because even though he doesn’t know it, what he’s doing for me right now means more to me than if he were giving me the shirt off his back.

“You’re welcome…now what’s the number?” he asks, and as I rattle it off, he dials.

“And put it on speakerphone,” Lea tells him, sitting up beside him. “I want to hear how this goes down.”

Jaxon blows out a breath, then hits the speaker button and sets the phone down on the floor in front of him. When it starts to ring, he hastily says, “Wait, what am I supposed to say?”

“I have no idea.” I trade a look with Lea, who shrugs. “How about—”

“Hello.” Delilah’s voice on the line forces me to seal my lips.

“Um, hey, beautiful.” Jaxon glances at me, then Lea, who hangs her head and shakes it disbelievingly.

“Um, who is this?” Delilah asks, sounding mystified.

“My name’s Jaxon,” he says cautiously. “I’m a friend of Nova’s.”

I hold my breath as soon as he says my name, worried she’ll hang up on him, since she clearly has been dodging my calls.

“Is she in trouble?” Delilah asks, not seeming upset, just neutral.

“No…” He pauses, then picks up the phone and puts the receiver close to his mouth. “Look, here’s the deal, Delilah. Nova really needs to get ahold of this Quinton guy…in fact, it’s pretty important, and you seem to be the only person who has a direct connection to him, at least the only person that Nova knows. So what I was wondering is if you could either put him on the phone so she could talk to him or if you could let us know how to get ahold of him. If you could do either one of those things,” he says charmingly, “I would greatly, greatly appreciate it.”

Delilah pauses and I can hear banging in the background. “Fine, hold on…I’ll go see if he wants to talk to her.” It sounds like the phone is dropped on the other end, but then voices flow over the line.

Lea smacks Jaxon on the back of the head. “Really?” she hisses. “You called her beautiful.”

He shrugs, and then covers the receiver with his hand. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Lea sighs before she snatches the phone from Jaxon and tosses it to me and I lean forward to catch it. Then Lea gets to her feet and extends her hand to Jaxon. “Let’s give her some privacy.”

Jaxon takes her hand and she pulls him to his feet. Then they depart for the door with their fingers intertwined. “I’m just in the next room if you need anything,” Lea calls over her shoulder. I nod and they step out and shut the door behind them.

I let a slow exhalation ease out as my pulse slams against my wrist, neck, and chest. I’m actually going to talk to him. What the hell do I say? And what if I say something wrong? I start to panic and crave the solitude of counting, but I refuse to go there.

Never again.

I’m stronger than that.

Deep breaths.

Breathe.

Relax—

“Hello.” The sound of his voice stops my thoughts, my heart, my breath, as the feelings I felt during those couple of months slam straight into my heart like a shot of adrenaline. I can’t find my voice; I’m broken, soundless. Speak, dammit. Speak . “Delilah, who did you say this was?” I hear him say and it snaps me back to reality.

“It’s Nova,” I tell him tentatively. There’s a pause and I’d think that he’s hung up on me but I can hear chattering in the background. “Nova Reed, the girl you met a year ago.”

“I remember,” he says, not sounding happy at all, and it crushes almost all my hope, until he adds in a lighter tone, “Nova, like the car.”

“That would be the one.” I flop down on the bed on my back, searching my mind for the right words, but knowing that they probably don’t exist. That everything I say is probably going to sound awkward and might piss him off, but I’m going to have to just go with it if I’m going to go through with this. “I was just calling to see how you were.”

“I’m fine,” he replies in a formal tone.

“Umm…I hear you moved from Maple Grove.”

“Yeah…things got to be a little too intense there for some people, I guess, but me, I’ll live wherever.”

“Where are you living?” I wonder, brushing my finger across my tattoo. Never forget. Remember, move forward. Do things differently.

“Delilah didn’t tell you?” he asks.

“No, I didn’t even ask her.” I lie, because I did. A thousand times on her voice mail, but she never would answer or call back.

He gets quiet and I hear a door shut and the chattering quiets down. “We live in Vegas…her, Dylan, Tristan, and I…it’s kind of intense here, too, but I guess it works for everyone.”

“Vegas,” I say, a little shocked because that’s not what I was expecting. Honestly I don’t know what I was expecting, or if I really expected anything. I think part of me might have believed that I would never talk to him again. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he replies in a terse tone.

I force my tone to be cheerful, even though his irritation hurts. “Well, what do you do in Vegas?” I ask and then shake my head at myself. “I mean, does anyone work there…at all?” I smack my hand against my head. God, I sound like a rambling idiot.

“Sort of,” he replies, being evasive, and I think I know why. Because maybe they’re doing the same thing as at the concert—dealing drugs.

My heart starts to fracture as pressure builds in my chest and all I want to do is hang up and find something to count, but I keep going. “Are you drawing a lot?”

“Sometimes…I’ve actually drawn you a couple of times,” he says, and then the line goes silent. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not? You can draw me if you want to.” I think I might mean it and it feels strange after spending all that time viewing it as cheating on Landon if anyone else ever drew me. When did I get to a place where I’m okay with it ?

His quietness is maddening but then he speaks again and his voice is lighter. “So what have you been up to?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Not a whole lot. School. Work. I’ve been playing the drums again, too.”

“Really,” he says and I hear him flick a lighter. “You know, I never did get to see you play.”