“Sounds like none of my fucking business,” he said, his grip tightening on the door as he prepared to shut it.
“I—” Quinn clenched his jaw tight before he spoke again. “I just found out. Today.”
“What do you want, Quinn?” The words didn’t sound as angry as Aaron had intended. They sounded tired. “What the fuck do you want me to say to that?”
“I want…” Quinn’s mouth twisted and his eyes blazed in the bright moonlight. “I want you to make it make sense, Aaron! That’s what you always did! You made it all make sense!”
Aaron thought back to the night down by the creek, when he’d pushed Quinn up against a tree and held him while he raged. He thought of how he’d carded his fingers through the waves of Quinn’s long hair. And now he just stared at Quinn stupidly, and said, “You cut your hair.”
Quinn’s mouth quirked. “Yeah.”
And then he stepped inside the house.