“I’ll take it. Thanks.” On his way to the till, he glanced at the guy with the crutches, but his back was still to Quinn. He didn’t seem familiar, and Quinn wasn’t one to ask the clerk, not like most of the people around here. The town was full of gossipers, probably because it was the only legal way to have fun in this godforsaken town.
* * * *
With his bottle of apologies, Quinn knocked on the door, wondering why the parking lot was so empty. Only what he assumed was Karen’s vehicle—because it was a dark pink Prius—sat by the side path to the house. His own beat-up, decade-old Chevy Tahoe looked like it had been through more than Quinn himself.
At least being alone with Aunt Karen gave him the chance to be candid with her. Well, and she with him. She’d always given the best advice, whether it was about keeping an eye on his dad’s temper or his biggest secret.
“There you are!” Aunt Karen pulled him into a hug as soon as she’d opened the door.