Quinn had always considered peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to be the easiest, most basic food there was in both make and taste, but Ross changed her outlook on that wholeheartedly. He wielded a butter knife with such ease and sophistication, always crafting what one would expect to be mediocrity into something absolutely delectable. Even now, her mouth watered in mere anticipation of the blessing he presented her.

Joining her at the kitchen table, Ross asked, "So, your weekends have been pretty flexible lately, huh?"

Quinn looked up from her lunch, making a point to savor the heaping bite she took before finally engaging in conversation with the amused man.

"Yeah, well, my sister pretty much just does her own thing these days and Charlie's gone a lot lately too but this weekend's the first in forever that he's in town, so we'll probably do something tonight. Plus, not gonna lie, hanging out with my friends can get pretty lackluster at times. I'd much rather be here with you."

Ross' smile was sincere and sweet. "The feeling's mutual. My day's free so I'm glad I get to spend time with at least one of my kids."

For a while, Quinn was convinced that Christ himself would return before she'd stop recoiling at Ross' casual use of the term. But, without her realizing it, a timid smile replaced her grimace and she even grew to appreciate the simple acknowledgment.

She didn't bother to swallow her food first when she mustered out a, "Me, too."

"A student in Oliver's class is having a birthday party going on now and Oliver's been so excited for it all week, but the second he found out you were coming over, he wanted to bail. Only a promise of cake and the piñata the party had to offer was enough to coax him into Maggie's car." Ross chuckled and Quinn wasted no time participating in the short-lived laughter.

"And, you're still doing okay in school, right? I know junior year can be kinda like the home stretch of high school, so to speak. Dealing with everything else with the program and your recovery and whatnot can't make it any easier."

At the sudden shift in topic, the girl rubbed the back of her neck to smooth the minuscule hairs that spiked up on account of her rising tension.

"Honestly?" Quinn tampered with the crust she peeled from her sandwich as if doing so would make her predicament any better. She wasn't sure what, but something helped her scrounge up the courage to let her eyes meet his identical lake of brown. "It's a lot harder than I thought it'd be which I didn't think was possible."

Ross' eyebrows—two red, neatly trimmed caterpillars—furrowed deeply in concern. "How so?"

Quinn weighed her options. A large part of her wanted to extend him the same treatment she'd given everyone else—lies that weren't lies due to mere technicalities. But, ever since Charlie reunited with his father, Ava left, and Paloma started giving her the cold shoulder, Quinn sought solace in Ross and it didn't take long for her to realize that he'd been an even better father than she'd given him credit for.

As promised, he'd been there for her at the drop of a hat and that, she decided, was more than enough reason to give him something she hadn't allotted anyone those last several weeks—the whole truth.

"I was having trouble keeping up in my courses so they put me in classes intended for those with special needs. There are some kids there on the autism spectrum but there's also a few with 'behavioral issues'. In other words, those who are fine but flat out refuse to do as their told in other classes. It's essentially a room full of students that the school doesn't know what to do with. So, we all have different needs; none of which the school can seem to meet."

When Ross' frown deepened, Quinn averted her gaze and mindlessly trapped the initials that hung from her silver necklace between her thumb and forefinger—anything to alleviate her nerves.

"I figured I'd have to do something different than before since I think differently now but I never thought that'd be their answer. The school initially brought up assigning me a personal assistant to help stay on track, hoping that between that and the due date extensions and whatnot, I'd be okay, but, apparently, there wasn't any money in the budget for it."

"Whoa, whoa, wait, how long—" He grunted and shook his head. "When did this happen? Paloma didn't run any of this by me."

Quinn grimaced. "She doesn't exactly...know. She's been too busy doing her own thing. They didn't have to ask her permission or anything. As long as they 'accommodate students' unique circumstances to the best of their ability given the school's current resources'," she quoted, "then the decision's their own."

To Quinn's surprise, Ross' expression didn't become stern nor did the kindness in his eyes fade. Instead, he exhaled softly, all the while coursing a calloused hand through his thick beard. The girl could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"My sister—" Quinn chose her words carefully. "She's not in the best place right now and she has too much on her plate to deal with this or anything else, really. Plus, it's not like she could change anything if she knew so I figured it'd be better to spare her the juicy details."

The man's eyes flashed to her own with a sense of urgency. "Well, don't spare me, never spare me. She may not be able to do anything but the school system is my expertise. Never doubt that I can help and that goes for anything."

Once Quinn demonstrated her understanding via a single nod, Ross flared his nose, looking nowhere in particular. "So many schools claim that money's tight yet there's always somehow just enough in the budget to expand anything sports-related." With the decisive nod of his head, he said, "Okay. So, the school 'doesn't have the resources for an assistant', but I do."

The girl shook her head ferociously. "No, no, no, Ross, that's not at all what I was insinuating."

The man dismissed her insistence without another thought. "Because you're too polite to ask. You shouldn't even have to ask. Growing up, I had absolutely everything I needed because my parents ensured that that was always the case. If I can't do the same for my children, why am I even here?"

Quinn busied herself by taking another bite of her sandwich. She'd never really witnessed Ross lose his temper. Not even when he found his notes for what he'd anticipated being an emphatic lecture 'magically' stained by Oliver's permanent markers only two hours before the start of the school day.

"It's been like pulling teeth to get your sister to accept help from me—money, resources, whatever—but I'm not asking anymore. You need it, so I'm doing this."

Quinn slumped down in her seat then looked back up at the man with a wince. "...I'm not even sure if it'd help. As demeaning as those classes are, I still think they're hard. I'd hate for you to tank your money into something that ends up being useless."

Ross' eyes returned to their tender state as they glossed over the girl. "That's a risk that I'm more than willing to take. Besides, it won't just be them. I'm gonna help too. History may be my expertise but I think I may know a thing or two about the other disciplines as well." His laugh was soft and easy but his earnestness hadn't yet faltered. "Look, I'm glad you said something. It'll only get better from here, alright? You have my word."

Quinn didn't blatantly go against Ross, the certainty in his gaze pleading with her not to. But he must've sensed her skepticism because it was then that he expelled an exasperated sigh. Not a moment later, his eyes lit up, an ephemeral smile decorating his lips.

"You know, I went back to the auto warehouse a few weeks ago to scope out that spare part to put the finishing touches on my carburetor."

It was more of a junkyard than it was a warehouse considering very little of the merchandise was actually indoors. It was made up of anything ranging from miscellaneous tools to broken down vehicles coated with so much rust, dirt, and grime that they became one with the Earth.

Aged trees always laid claim on them first, weaving in and out through the windows and any crevice they could find in the cars' opening and smothering them entirely with their unforgiving branches. Quinn always thought it looked like something straight out of the horror movies Paloma used to dupe her into watching many years prior. But, in spite of the eerie aura the warehouse had about it, it proved to be quite useful.

Smirking, Quinn hummed. "Lemme guess. You found it and are now soliciting my expertise to help make the necessary repairs?"

She had never really considered herself a car enthusiast per se, but even after her nearly fatal accident, they hadn't deterred her in the slightest. Just a few months ago, she hadn't known much of anything about the workings of cars other than that they got her and the rest of the world from point A to point B. But finding potential in old parts and using them to do for free what a car service would charge hundreds for became an unexpected pastime both redheads grew to love doing together.

"Actually, I never quite found the right piece for the job." The second a mischevious smirk laid claim on his lips, Quinn immediately saw where she and Oliver inherited such a devious expression. "But I did find something else."

He rose from his stool, motioning for Quinn to follow. She did without question. "The initial plan was to wait a bit longer to see if I could figure it out for myself, but, the truth is, I need my right-hand girl to help me finish this project I've been working on these last few weeks."

With the flick of the light switch, any trace of darkness the garage occupied was swept away in a flash. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, but once they did, she couldn't even bring herself to blink, fearing that, if she did, she'd find herself drooling on her pillow in her bed with an alarm screeching by her bedside instead of now over the Volkswagon Beetle whose make generated goosebumps up and down her skin.

Ross briefly scratched away at his beard then leaned against the doorframe and tucked his hands into his pockets. "Why don't you give it a once-over? Extend me your expert opinion."

That was enough to break Quinn's trance. She descended the steps, carefully approaching the vehicle as though it were a frightened deer eating grass deep in the woods, threatening to bolt at any second.

She thoroughly took in its matured physic. Every curve, every crevice—nothing was safe from her edacious gaze. Like her own, the eyes of the Beetle resembled the moon as they stared right back at her, serving as a leeway to the rest of its body which was daffodil-yellow from the hood to the trunk. There were a handful of scratches with some dents to match and a little rust trailing its metal edges—all of which accounted for its old age.

When Quinn finally touched it, the connection was electric. It was as though there was some sort of spark uniting itself to her, forcing the corners of her cheeks to spread painfully wide but she hardly noticed. Starting with the driver's door, she delicately trailed the length of its body. It was old, yes, but there wasn't a speck of dirt or grime within a mile of the car.

In addition to repairs, countless hours were dedicated to scrubbing the car until the muck gave way and finally let the daffodil-yellow shine through. Its beauty was so mesmerizing that it was nothing short of a miracle that ancient branches ever set the Beetle free of their tight clutches in the first place.

"I know it's pretty old—really old," he corrected. "And if you're anything like I was at your age, you'd be a whole lot more interested in something newer. But, you know, a lot of people would say that—"

"It's vintage," Quinn blurted. "It's amazing." She looked back at Ross who was looking right back at her. "So much better than pretty much anything else in the world. I can't believe anyone would ever be willing to let it go."

Ross' teeth glimmered and gleamed as he smiled giddily. Suddenly, he thought himself silly for believing even for a second that the girl would think any differently. After all, as he told her many a time, she had an eye for beauty that others could never dream of.

"Right?! Apparently, the previous owner sold it to the warehouse for practically nothing and I don't doubt that the warehouse upsold to me but I still got it cheap. Usually, something like this would cost more than a brand new car, but it wasn't in the best shape. Probably why the warehouse figured they'd make more off of me than they would breaking it down for a few good parts. Which is good 'cuz I saw it, thought of you, couldn't let that happen."

Quinn grinned sheepishly then resumed admiring the Beetle. "How'd you find the time to do all of this?"

"Well, it's not exactly rocket science." Ross descended the steps, finally joining Quinn at the car's side. "Figured if I can handle teaching high school, this wouldn't be all that difficult. I'll admit, it was somewhat of a challenge since I'd definitely consider this more of an ambitious project than I'd usually go for but I know my way around a car so it didn't take too long."

That was an understatement if there ever was one. Many a late night went into tinkering around in the garage as he worked relentlessly to bring the Beetle back to life. His sleep schedule suffered, that's for sure. And he hadn't had such heavy bags under his eyes since Oliver was a baby but the look of absolute astonishment and admiration still present in the teenager's eyes made all the late nights and early mornings well worth it.

"I smoothed out the majority of the most prominent dings and dents but I'm convinced what's left is there to stay. Personally, I think it gives it something special. A little character. Anyway, it could still use a fresh coat of paint but I didn't wanna do that 'till I could get it to work. See, I haven't actually been able to start the thing." Grinning, he gently squeezed the back of Quinn's neck then nodded in the car's general direction. "Figured you'd wanna help."

He hadn't thought it possible, but Quinn's eyes lit up even more when he tugged a silver key out of his pocket and tossed it to her in a flash.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "You've done a spectacular job, that's for sure. Wish I could've helped sooner."

"Well, you've got the most important job."

The driver's door cried out once Ross propped it open, signaling for Quinn to get in. Giddily, she hopped in without question. The interior smelled of vanilla bean thanks to the scented, tree-shaped car air freshener that hung from the rearview mirror. It was by far her favorite and that wasn't lost on Ross.

The seats were made of cream-colored leather, the steering wheel covered in the same. Quinn wrapped her hands around the wheel, instantly giggling at the quiet squeak the leather emitted.

Ross opened the garage door then gave Quinn a thumbs up. She didn't let a moment go by before cranking the key in the ignition. The Beetle roared to life and both redheads donned identical smiles. Only Quinn's faltered a bit in curiosity. She manually lowered the window and peeked her head out.

"Seems to be working fine to me," she called out.

"What do you know, you got it to work!" Ross went over and rested a hand on the roof of the car, dipping his head just enough to peek into the opening. "Why don't you take it out for a victory ride?"

Quinn could hardly summon the words to speak but when she finally did, all that came out was, "Really?"

Ross performed an insouciant shrug but he could hardly suppress his own excitement. "Yeah, why not? Maybe show it off to Charlie, see what he thinks. I'm sure he's no car buff like ourselves but he'd likely be at least somewhat interested in seeing your very first set of wheels."

Quinn's merriment nearly overloaded her senses. "Oh, my god, Ross! Are you sure? I mean, I don't even know what to say! You're amazing! This is just so—" She squeezed the wheel so tight that her knuckles turned a ghostly white. She then shook her head in attempts to lasso her thoughts. After a moment, she looked up at him and said, "Thanks. Seriously."

Ross smiled and soaked in the sincerity as long as time permitted. "Just maybe don't take it by your house or, you know, mention it to your sister just yet. I gotta talk to her about a lot of stuff and—" He ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "Let's just keep this little project to ourselves for the time being. Deal?"

Quinn couldn't agree more. Smile on full display, she engaged in the fistbump he commenced. Still, she wasted no time putting the car in reverse. "Deal."

As far as Quinn was concerned, seeing a drive-in movie at least once in one's lifetime should be on every human being's bucket list. And, to her pleasant surprise, she was able to mark the experience off of hers far sooner than anticipated.

It meant driving about forty-five minutes out of the city but she would've easily driven for another hour if it meant getting the chance to experience the mythical wonders of an outdoor projection alongside about fifty other cars who were undoubtedly relishing what the night sky and secluded car had to offer.

Then again, she wasn't so sure the experience counted considering she and Charlie were doing very little watching, to begin with. It seemed to be an eternity since they'd last found the time to exchange more than a peck on the lips and, as taxing as those last few months were, Quinn needed a change in pace.

But, she hadn't had the luxury of getting lost in his affection for as nearly as long as she'd hoped once Charlie leaned away from the console and faced her from his spot in the passenger's seat. The act was just enough to get Quinn to stop chasing the mint-flavored chapstick that coated his lips.

"I have news."

Quinn chuckled faintly. "News that can wait, I hope. We've only got about ten more minutes in Heaven if you catch my drift."

"Wish it could."

Fiery-red hair spilled onto the headrest as Quinn leaned back in a huff. Finally facing him, she bore a fleeting smile. "The floor's yours." The genuine simper that adorned his pink lips was enough to make Quinn just about boil over with anticipation. "Spit it out!" she commanded, grinning.

Frivolously rolling his eyes, Charlie said, "All these weekends of being away—being with my father—finally paid off." Taking in Quinn's inquisitive expression, he didn't leave her in the dark for too long. "He and I, we've decided to open up a guitar shop."

The girl's smile waned. A pause, then, "A guitar shop?"

Quinn wanted more than anything to hide her lack of enthusiasm, but her expression betrayed her terribly. Lucky for her, Charlie hadn't seemed to notice.

"Yeah, you know how much he loves music."

Quinn treaded lightly. "You've mentioned that before but I thought that was his thing, you know? Not yours."

Charlie performed an unadorned shrug. "I've gotten into it a bit since I've started visiting him. But a store of his very own, making money doing what he loves, it'd be—"

The redhead didn't hesitate to cut him off. "And what do you love?"

"...That's a bit of a loaded question. One may even call it unfair." His laugh was guttural and transient. "Don't you think?"

"I think it's a perfectly reasonable question, actually. Especially considering when I asked you that earlier this year, you had an answer. Now that your father wants you to help realize his dream, yours is put on the back burner?"

"I don't have a 'dream'," he said simply. "I just wanna make enough money to live comfortably and be with the people that I care about."

"'Something in the medical field'," Quinn recalled. "If not the diner then that's what you wanted. That's what you said, that's what you told me. Now that your father wants you to do this, you completely abandon that? I mean, it was his idea, right? You doing this together?"

Slowly but surely, the dimples in Charlie's cheeks faded. "It was mine," he asserted. "My father teaches guitar lessons during the week but, as you can imagine, it doesn't quite bring home the bacon. It's difficult for him to make ends meet."

"Well, no offense, but if he can't even do that, how's he gonna get the money to open a store?"

Charlie ran a hand through his curls then looked through the windshield, surrendering his attention to the movie. "I am. Alright?"

Quinn scoffed so loudly she would've have been surprised if couples in the cars nearby hadn't heard. "Not alright!"

Charlie trudged on. "The diner's gonna be mine pretty soon and when I get it...I'm selling it. That'd give us more than enough to start our business."

Quinn's face fell. "You mean your father's business. For Christ's sake, tell me you're joking. Charlie, there isn't a chance in hell your grandpa would ever let you sell the diner. He'd sooner let it go up in flames. It's a small, family business. You know that better than anyone. He barely even wanted me working there when I started because of that. He made it all very clear to me the day we met; if the Arnestis family can't have it, no one can."

"Yeah, well," Charlie mumbled, "he doesn't know."

"He doesn't know?" She snickered. "What, so, you wait 'till he hands it over then undermine him by selling it? Screw over the only human being that's legitimately given a shit about you over the course of your entire life?"

Charlie's expression soured in an instant. "That's not how it is."

"That's exactly how it is." Ferocious flare on display, Quinn didn't let up. "Charlie, listen to me, this is crazy—psychotic even. There's no way you—the guy who, without fail, always lets everyone go ahead of him at a four-way stop—could ever do something so conniving."

Charlie locked his jaw. "Do you think I want to do it like this? I love my grandpa, I don't wanna hurt him. But like you said, if I told him, he would never let me do this."

"And rightfully so," she fired back.

The boy narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?"

"You're compassionate and caring. You love making other people happy. It's incredibly sweet and that's what I adore about you. It's what makes me the luckiest person on the planet but, Charlie, you care to a fault. Your father, I think he saw that and that's why he asked you to do this with him. He knows you have the resources to give him what he wants, or you will soon enough. He's leaching off of you."

"He's not!" It was a rarity when Charlie raised his voice so when his words echoed in the car, Quinn couldn't help but flinch. "This was my idea, okay? Believe it or not, I have those from time to time."

For a while, neither of them offered anything more, leaving only the audio from the movie to fill the night air. But, Quinn got tired of that pretty quickly.

"When?" she suddenly asked. "Where?"

Charlie threw her a glance then muttered a, "As soon as possible. We found a perfect place to set up shop and it's only about twenty minutes from his place."

"His place? As is Middleton?" Quinn snorted. "Middleton has a population of what, five?"

"It's a small town, yeah." Charlie hated the sarcasm present in the girl's voice, but he tried his best to ignore it. "But you haven't seen the place. It's perfect."

"All I'm saying is, how well off could a small guitar shop be in a place that doesn't value that kind of thing? Middleton's a tiny town that people pass through to get to where they're goin', Charlie, not a place to spend a lot of time in, if any."

"I never said it wasn't ambitious," he all but growled. "Even the diner had its fair share of bumps in the road over the years, especially when my grandpa first started."

"Yeah, but there's a hell of a lot more demand for food in a decent-sized city than there is for musical instruments in a small town," Quinn jeered. "It's not really the same."

"What, so now you're a business expert?"

Charlie whipped his head around to face her straight-on and Quinn didn't hesitate to give him the same treatment.

"No," she drawled. "I'm an everyday person with common sense."

"God," he hissed. A vitriolic laugh followed. "Is this because you're worried about what this means for us? Me doing this? Is that why you're being so—"

Quinn interrupted without hesitation. "Man, do you think I'm that selfish? Of course that's not why. I care about you—love you, even—so I wanna be with you. That goes without saying. But, I'd never try to stand in the way of anything that was good for you, no matter what that means for me. I thought I made that clear a long time ago."

"And you're the one that decides what's good for me?"

Quinn threw her head back in a dramatic fit. "No, Charlie, Jesus! Stop twisting my words around. This isn't an opportunity for something better, but it is a phenomenal way for you to lose the diner, all of your money, and destroy your relationship with your grandpa. Don't you get that? I mean, what kind of father condones their kid risking everything they care about for their own selfish gain?"

Charlie's grin was nothing if not sarcastic upon hearing the bite in Quinn's tone. "I can't believe you. You were the one that encouraged me to have a relationship with him to start with."

"Yeah, a relationship. Not...this. You can spend time with him without having to make a five-step business plan detailing how you're gonna fix his life. Charlie, he didn't even do the most basic thing for you. He never even tried to take care of you."

"That's where you're wrong."

"I'm sorry, are we counting the handful of months he stuck around nearly two decades ago as 'taking care' of you? Hadn't realized." Quinn's hands smacked down against her lap obnoxiously. "Glad I'm up to date."

"Would you stop?"

Quinn didn't even consider the request. "He even makes you drive two and a half hours every weekend just to see him. If you ask me, that's a long stretch of road to nowhere."

"I didn't," Charlie grumbled. "Ask you."

The redhead continued like she hadn't heard but Charlie sensed that even if she did, she would've ranted on all the same. "He refuses to do anything that requires that he put in work. Now he expects you to come to his rescue? Put your life on hold, sell your grandfather's pride and joy, screw him over just so he can get what he wants? I can't believe I'm saying this but, Wilfred was right all along. I'm sorry, Charlie, but your father's using you. No doubt."

Charlie wet his lips then looked right at Quinn, demanding in no words at all that she let him speak. "I chose this. It was my idea, no one else's. Not even his. He didn't ask me."

"He didn't have to. All he had to do was whine and complain about how he doesn't have the money to realize his dreams and throw you a bone by paying attention to you for the first time ever." Quinn made a mental note to trash her hardened glare. "I don't blame you. I get what that's like to finally convince someone to give you the time of day. You'll do pretty much anything to keep that up. The situation's not the same, but it is the same premise that I met Michael and...you know how that story ends."

"I understand that, Quinn, but this is nowhere near the same thing."

"Maybe," the redhead whispered. "Maybe not. Either way, your father knows that you have a big heart and would do whatever he said if it meant being in his good graces, spending time with him. Charlie, you're amazing and you shouldn't have to buy anyone's love; especially not his."

"How many times do I have to say it? That's not what this is. And even if it was, so what?" Quinn couldn't tell if it was the night's shadows or not but she could've sworn she saw Charlie's eyes darken. "This may come as a shock to you but, your father's not mine. He doesn't have a surplus of money and resources he can use to make ends meet or lavish me in, for that matter."

That made Quinn's head spin. "Neither does Ross. He isn't rich but he does what he can and provides and gives a shit about me without repercussions or an expectation of getting something in return. I know you know that and...I think that it pisses you off—it pisses me off—because, as great as you are, your father refuses to do the same."

"The only thing he expects in return is that, when I graduate, when we do this, I go there to be with him like I should've been all along."

Quinn's lips parted. "He expects you to just pack up and leave Oakheart? Leave the diner—sell the diner—your grandpa?" She tried to hide the devastation in her voice but failed miserably. "...And me?"

"I'm considering finding a place in Middleton when the time's right. But Oakheart's still my home." He dared to reach over the console to give her knee a benevolent squeeze. "And so are you. You'd never get lost or left behind in this process, I wouldn't let that happen. No matter where I end up, no matter what I decide, there'll always be more than enough room for you. You know that."

Quinn forced a brief laugh and picked away at some non-existent lint on her faded jeans. "Do I? 'Cuz all of this...it kinda feels like it's telling a different story, Charlie. And if it were college or you doing anything else in the world to better your future, as much as I'd miss you, I'd want you to go. But...this isn't that."

"You pushed me to spend time with my father, to establish a relationship that was different than before. Well, this..." He motioned to nowhere in particular. "It's different. Better."

"Different doesn't automatically mean better," whispered Quinn.

Charlie retreated his hand to his own lap and exhaled, giving Quinn a mere glance. "So, lemme get this straight. I take your advice, give him a chance, find what I'm interested in and, because you don't like it, that's it? I'm just supposed to jump ship?"

"This isn't about what I want, it's about what you do. I know you better than anyone and I can tell you that you thrive on routine and habit. You're not spontaneous, you never take huge risks, and you especially don't deceive people; let alone someone you love. Because I know you, I know that you don't wanna open a guitar shop. You don't wanna move. But you would if someone you loved asked you to. Charlie, if your father cared about you like you do him then he wouldn't ask you to do this. He wouldn't let you do this."

A pregnant pause ensued and just when Quinn thought she'd reached her boyfriend, he said, "I guess you don't know me as well as either of us thought you did."

"Seriously, Charlie?" Quinn couldn't mask her amusement if she tried. "That's the card you're gonna play? Come on."

"You know, I genuinely thought you'd be happy for me but if you can't be, then—" His laugh was born solely out of disbelief. "I honestly don't even know what to say. But, I do know that if we stay here, I'm gonna say something that I'll regret, so I'd much rather be anywhere in the world that isn't here in this car with you."

Some would've called that an act of kindness—diffusing the situation through words instead of rage but, as far as Quinn was concerned, when it came to Charlie, it was one and the same. Once she finally managed to free her chest of the blades his admission manifested, she made up for his refusal to look in her direction by facing him head-on and speaking as gently as she could.

"Charlie, I wasn't trying to—"

"Don't," he warned, buckling his seatbelt. "Just don't."

Quinn reluctantly shelved any and every explanation that threatened to claw its way to the surface. Instead, she strapped herself in, adjusted the rearview mirror, and awoke the Beetle in anticipation for what they both expected to be a long, grueling drive.