The Sullivan Sisters

Unforeseen Circumstances

This is Quinn, sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Paloma tsked at the voicemail that played for what seemed to be the millionth time. She fought the urge to chuck her phone across the room and waited for the familiar beep to ring in her ear.

Her eyes darted to the clock that ticked away above the front door. It had been hours since the woman sent Quinn on her way, however, not once since night hit had Paloma heard from the girl.

It was almost midnight and as time went by, the brunette's anxiety only spiked. She bit her lip and allowed her free hand to tangle in her hair. Her movements were sudden and quick as she restlessly paced around the living room.

"Quinn, it's me. Again. I don't know where the hell you are or what's going on but—" She narrowed her eyes and chuckled dryly. "When I told you to go to Charlie's, I didn't mean that you could spend the fucking night, so you better get your ass home, now!" She gritted her teeth, her thumb threatened to tap the red button on the screen to end the call but a part of her couldn't.

She slammed her eyes shut and she started again, this time, her voice held a calmness that wasn't previously present. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm not mad, okay? If you come home now or at the very least give me some sort of indication that you're okay then we'll just forget this night ever happened, alright? You have my word, just...call."

Paloma expunged a heavy sigh before finally plopping herself down on the sofa. She tossed her phone on the coffee table and rested her face in her palms. After a moment, she looked up and settled her gaze on the fireplace in front of her.

Her digits mindlessly sought refuge at her lips, her teeth instinctively tore into her nails as the bad, nervous habit that she once defeated (or at least thought she defeated) instantly resurfaced.

She absolutely despised the feeling the ordeal gave her. It instantly reminded Paloma of her childhood and how she'd always get reprimanded for breaking curfew and failing to inform her parents of her whereabouts.

He mother always seemed to be particularly infuriated. She'd go on and on about how she'd stayed up all night waiting and worrying. And while the brunette was always somewhat sympathetic to her mother's predicament, now she had to admit, she understood entirely. Regret was hardly a fitting term for all the sleepless nights Paloma was sure she caused her mother to endure.

The woman's eyes darted to her iPhone the second it vibrated against the coffee table. After awkwardly fumbling with the device, she finally got a sturdy grip.

"Hello? Quinn?" she sputtered, nearly out of breath.

"Close. My name's Greg." The voice was deep and brooding.

Paloma pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to sound less angry than she was. She failed. "You have the wrong number. Now, get off the line. have to make a call."

"Wait! I saw the flyers around town. You know, about the lost husky and...I think I found it. Your dog, I mean."

The brunette's hardened expression instantly relaxed, a sincere smile replacing her frown.

"It's late, I know," he admitted. "But I called the number you left on the flyer 'cuz I figured you'd wanna know."

"No, you're right! That's great! Thanks!" Paloma grinned. "Where is she?"

"Hopper's," said the man. "The twenty-four-hour convenience store; the one on Western Pines Road. You know it?"

Paloma stood. "I'm on my way!"