The Sullivan Sisters

Your Father's Not Mine

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."