I can feel Skylar mean mugging me. Feigning innocence, I twirl my finger around my ear and mouth, ‘she’s crazy.’
Phoenix eyes Quinn suspiciously. “How do you know my mother’s maiden name?”
Appearing exasperated, Quinn blows out a breath. “Because she’s my mom, too, dummy.” She points to herself. “Where do you think I got this mop of hair and these insanely high cheekbones from?” Peering up at the ceiling, she touches her eyeball. “I also have her green eyes. See? No contacts.”
Phoenix doesn’t look nearly as unsure about all this like he did a minute ago.
Oh boy.
While Quinn and Phoenix definitely look like they could be siblings, their personalities couldn’t be more opposite.
Phoenix is locked up tight, and this girl is an open book.
A strange and crafty open book.
I honestly don’t know what to make of her or this situation. I want to believe her…but there’s a chance she’s lying.
I’m not the only one who must be thinking this because Storm scrubs a hand down his face and utters, “Are you really gonna trust this little juvenile delinquent who broke into your hotel room?”
“Um, hello,” Quinn says, her face twisting with outrage. “Weren’t you listening? I had a good reason.”
Memphis takes a step forward. “What was the reason you broke into mine then?”
We all turn to look at Memphis, who until now hasn’t said much. Which is odd considering Quinn’s his baby mama. Allegedly.
Skylar’s eyes narrow. “You told me you never touched a minor.”
Memphis pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s because I never touched her, Sky.” Palms up, he looks at all of us. “Or any other minor for the record.”
“Start talking,” Phoenix grits through his teeth before he plops down on the chair next to the couch. “Now.”
Memphis draws in a lungful of air. “The first night on tour, I came back to my room and found her there. I was about to call security, but she begged me not to and then went on and on about needing to see you immediately. She seemed a little…”
“Fucking psychotic,” Storm offers.
“Hey!” Quinn screeches.
“Mentally unstable,” Memphis says. “Anyway, I figured she was a stalker, but when I threatened to call security again, she broke down crying.” He shrugs. “She’s obviously young, and I felt bad, so I offered to call her parents…” He peers down at Quinn, who looks sheepish. “That’s when she bolted out of my room.”
“And then told the world she was pregnant with your love child,” Skylar cuts in, unable to contain her grimace.
I’m right there with her. It seems Quinn went to a trashy tabloid and started rumors that she was pregnant with Memphis’s baby…presumably so she could get Phoenix’s attention.
That’s beyond insane.
Quinn hangs her head. “I just wanted to meet my big brother.” Her gaze fixes on her sneakers. “And I only told TMZ that I thought I was pregnant with his child. I figured that would be enough for someone in the band’s camp to track me down…then I’d be introduced to Phoenix.”
“You could have destroyed his life,” Skylar bites out, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so furious.
“I didn’t mean to.” Remorse floods her features. “I know I lied, but it’s not like I was planning on going to the cops or anything. It was only a rumor.”
“Lies still damage people,” I whisper, intentionally avoiding looking at Phoenix.
Quinn turns to Memphis. “I’m really sorry. It was wrong of me to do that.”
Memphis—who has every reason to be livid with the girl—gives her a soft nod. “It’s cool. We’ve all done shit we regret.”
I can’t help but notice the way Skylar stiffens, but before I can read into it, Quinn pulls something out of her pocket and hands it to Phoenix. “I found this in a box stashed away in Mom’s closet a couple of years ago.”
Phoenix keeps his expression neutral as he stares at an image of a little blond-haired boy singing into a shampoo bottle…like he was gearing up to take the world by storm one day.
He doesn’t have to confirm it’s him…because there’s only one Phoenix Walker in the world.
Skylar straightens her spine, jumping into work mode. “Before this goes any further, I think we should get a DNA test.”
Phoenix—who’s still staring at the picture—nods.
Turning on her heels, Skylar hustles to the door. “I’ll set everything up.”
Storm hikes a thumb at the door Skylar just walked out. “I’m gonna go do that thing.”
Memphis slaps his back. “Yeah, we have that thing to do.”
Wanting to give Phoenix and Quinn time alone to talk, I get off the couch. “I’m gonna go.”
Phoenix grips my hand.
Even though he doesn’t say it, I know what he’s asking for.
Giving it a small squeeze, I promptly sit back down.
Phoenix blows out a heavy breath. “Does Mom know where you are?”
Going quiet, Quinn directs her gaze out the large window. Must be genetic.
“My guess would be no.” Which poses a big problem since she’s only fifteen. “I know you want to talk to your—Phoenix—but if your parents don’t consent, he can get in a lot of trouble.”
Especially if she turns out not to be his sister. Although the chances of that are growing slimmer by the minute.
Which makes talking to her mother even more crucial…because then we’ll know for sure.
“We need to give them a call, Quinn.”
That gets her attention. “You can’t.” Her eyes dart around the room nervously, like a scared animal caught in a trap. “They’re…out of town.”
Phoenix and I exchange an uneasy glance.
Maybe she’s not his sibling after all.
“In that case, is there somewhere we can take you? Just until we can talk to your parents and make sure they’re okay with you coming back here.”
Quinn bolts up like a jack-in-the-box. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll go.”
In the blink of an eye, she makes a mad dash for the door.
Phoenix—whose legs are way longer than mine—manages to grab her arm right before she exits.
Quinn winces like she’s in pain.
I sprint over to them. “Relax, Phoenix. You’re hurting—”
My stomach recoils when he rolls up the sleeve of her sweatshirt—which now that I think about it is a bit odd given it’s summer—revealing a nasty bruise on her forearm.
“Where’d you get this?”
“Soccer,” Quinn quickly responds. “Got attacked on the field the other day.” Plastering a smile on her face, she fist bumps the air. “Go Tigers.”
Phoenix doesn’t look like he buys it. I’m not sure I do either.
“What position do you play?”
“Goalie,” she replies without hesitation.
He frowns. “Name a famous soccer player.”
Quinn doesn’t miss a beat. “David Beckham.”
Still not convinced, Phoenix grunts, “How many players are on a soccer team?”