“Not like what?” Quinn asks.
“He never tells me what to do.”
Quinn balks. “Not even to clean your room? Do your homework? Get off your phone?”
Greta laughs. “The phone, yeah, he’s got rules about that. But the other stuff, he lets me figure out on my own.”
I’m tempted to ask how Greta feels about that. Like is it freeing? Scary?
“How about your mom?” Quinn asks.
She’s focused on petting Kody, but her lips tighten into a line. “It means she’ll have to find another Friday night babysitter.”
“You have siblings?” Quinn asks.
“My mom’s boyfriend has two kids. One’s five. The other’s two.”
This is new intel. Why doesn’t Greta talk about them? If she’s babysitting, does that mean the boyfriend is living with them? How does Greta feel about that?
From next to the cutting board, my phone screen blinks with an incoming text from Jordan. True to my word, I messaged him this morning asking if he’d be willing to attend Dad’s retirement party.
JORDAN:
Sure, I’ll be your wingman.
“Yess,” I mutter.
Quinn glances my way, but I shake my head. I’ll share this development later.
“What else is keeping you busy this summer?” Quinn asks Greta, crossing her legs. “Besides Kody, there.”
“I help my dad a lot, too,” Greta replies, tucking a lock of hairbehind her ears. In this warm lighting, her eyes look so much like her dad’s.
Quinn catches my attention with a cock of her eyebrow before refocusing on Greta. “What does he need help with?”
“Projects.” She takes a sip from her glass. “We’re rebuilding the dock next.”
I manage to hold back my groan. Just when I think Linden’s finished with that stupid nail gun…
“Does he pay you?” Quinn asks.
Greta gives her a curious glance. “Uh, no.”
“That’s hardly fair,” Quinn says.
“Welcome to my life,” she says with a good-natured grin. “I’m getting paid in experience.” She puts air quotes around “experience” with a trademark teenaged eyeroll. “He’s taking me up Liberty Spires for my birthday.”
Quinn cocks her head in confusion. “What’s that?”
“It’s a 5.8 climb in the Bitterroots,” Greta replies.
Quinn nods but from her blank expression, I don’t think she knows what any of that means.
I unfasten the twine around a bunch of carrots. “It’s a rock climbing route. Nine pitches, right?”
“Yeah. I’m stoked.” Greta sips from her soda, then gives me a shy glance. “Is it true you decked your ex?”
Heat rises up my chest, prickling my face. “Uh,deckedis taking it a bit far.”
