Almost opposite the road down to the trailers sat the old sheriff’s house. He remembered it well, small and rustic as it was. That was where Aaron, his first actual true crush had lived. And then Quinn’s dad had killed Aaron’s dad and…yeah. Shaking his head, he headed down the dirt road toward his rental.
It wasn’t much. Then again, he wasn’t willing to pay a lot and didn’t need much, so he didn’t care. There was a tiny bathroom, a kitchenette, a peeling and stained carpet, and a small bedroom at the end of the hall. The living room area was okay enough if you ignored the way the couch was slumped a bit at one end.
Quinn had done some time on the streets so anything more than a sleeping bag was a near luxury. The mattress at the rehab had been shit, too, so when later that night he found that the landlord had bought a new mattress sometime in the last few years, he felt like fucking royalty.
A prince with a gun under his pillow, but a prince nonetheless. 2