And Then You by Briar Prescott

Author:Briar Prescott [Prescott, Briar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-13T16:00:00+00:00

STEPH

I get a few days of reprieve after that encounter, until one morning when I’m doing my usual circle around the neighborhood. It’s barely six thirty in the morning, and my brain is extra loud today, because I’m on mile five already, and it just refuses to shut up.

I only give up running when my phone rings. I stop and pull it out from the armband.

“Yeah?” I say.

“Oh good,” Blair says. “You’re up.”

I lean forward to get my breathing back under control.

“Early bird and all that jazz,” I say.

“Ugh. Runners. Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I say. This promises a distraction, so whatever she has to say, I’m game.

“I need a favor,” Blair says.

“Sure. Lay it on me.”

“Quinn forgot his phone at our place last night, and he needs it, but Nora’s on her way to the airport and Hazel’s running a fever, so could you just stop by, grab the phone, and drop it off at the pool for him?”

Shit, shit, shit, and a fuck for good measure.

“Steph?” Blair prompts.

“Yeah,” I say belatedly. “No problem at all. I’ll drop by your place in”—I check the time—“thirty minutes?”

Seeing Quinn is the absolute last thing I want to do, but considering how many times Blair has gotten me out of a bind, I owe her so many favors I’ll need a few lifetimes to repay them all.

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver. I gotta run. Hazel’s crying.”

She drops the call, and I’m left staring at my phone with a sour face.

I run back home, take a lightning-fast shower, and am out the door again in less than ten minutes. Better to get this over with. I take the subway to Blair’s place and then get back to Brooklyn and search out the address Blair scribbled on a piece of paper for me.

“The pool” is on the ground floor of a small office building. I don’t know what I was expecting from a place where Quinn works. Something super modern and sleek where the rich and successful go to show off their skills in the water and pose by the poolside? I know he teaches swimming, but not much else, because if there’s one topic I’ve always avoided, it’s Quinn. Instead of sleek and sterile, though, this place is full of color. Drawings of sea animals, fish, plants, and coral decorate the walls that have been painted to look like the ocean. Large windows make everything seem light and bright.

I’m still busy taking everything in when a woman walks into the room, dressed in shorts and a tank top. She stops and sends me a confused look and a polite smile. “Hello. I’m sorry, but we’re not open yet.”

“Hi. I’m not here to… do anything,” I say. “I’m looking for Quinn? Henris,” I add in case they have more than one Quinn here. “I have his phone.”

Her smile turns warmer. “And you are?” she asks.

“Steph. Stephen,” I correct myself because Quinn doesn’t call me Steph for some reason. “Stephen Hartley? But you don’t have to let him know or anything.

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