"You don't even know where you're going," Ian said.
Zoe spun on her heel. "Tell me, then."
"I don't know exactly. She said she was staying with your aunt, but I thought…" He stopped short. Zoe looked like someone had just slapped her across the face.
"My aunt?" she repeated, and he nodded.
"Great. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't call." She stormed out the door, and he didn't bother trying to stop her.
After all, that was how he'd gotten himself into this mess to begin with.
“Welcome to Buxton.”
She read the sign almost three times, cringing more and more with every passing word.
This was, after all, not where she was supposed to be right now. It was the last place on earth she wanted to be, in fact. But, once she found Quinn and… that woman… everything would be over.
Quinn would be back with Paul. Ian would go back to doing whatever it was he did with his time, and she’d be on the road to redemption. Everything would be how it was supposed to be to begin with.
All she had to do was get this over with. Fast.
Once she saw Quinn and made her see sense, Zoe could put this whole trip—and all the unfortunate choices she’d made along the way—behind her. There was just one more thing to do.
Checking the address she’d sneaked from Ian’s phone, she pulled onto High Street, past the rows of tiny, hippy bungalows and mom-and-pop shops. The church was in the center of town, and in the cemetery behind it…
Zoe shook her head.
This trip was about Quinn. It had always been about Quinn.
She turned onto a lane and followed the winding path until the overgrown trees nearly crowded the street itself. Driving through a tunnel of foliage, she parked and then stalked up the cobblestone path to a buttercup house with a white, wide wrap-around porch.
She’d seen the place before in photos, could even remember playing in the little yard here in a very, very different time. With another cringe, she forced herself to stare at the two women on the patio—first her sister, her blond hair plaited and resting on her shoulder, and the woman beside her.
It was ridiculous, of course, to feel the way she did, but looking at her never stopped hurting. The curly blond hair that was so much like her own, the shape of her eyes. And then the things that weren’t like Zoe, but were identical to her twin, Zoe and Quinn’s mother. The semi-crooked smile. The bridge of freckles over her nose.
“Janice.” Zoe nodded.
Her aunt’s smile fell away for a moment before righting itself. “Zoe, I wasn’t expecting you here. Come on up. We have lemonade.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Quinn, come on.”
Quinn’s full lips were semi-parted, and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip before shaking her head just the slightest bit.
“No?” Zoe raised her eyebrows. “Then maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me what in the hell you’re doing, exactly, huh? How do you even know this woman.” She flailed a hand in Janice’s direction.
Quinn studied her with tired, sad eyes for a long moment before pressing on. “Janice and I are close,” Quinn said simply.
Zoe let out a disgusted sigh. “Are you serious right now? You barely know her.”
“We met at the funeral.”
“The funeral? You went to…” Zoe pinched her nose between thumb and forefinger.
“Look. I couldn’t tell you, okay?” Quinn said. “I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d do this. Thanks for proving me wrong.”
“That’s not fair,” Zoe shot back.
“No, what’s not fair is getting mad at me for going to our own mother’s funeral. That’s not fair.”