Me, You, & The Party Rock Crew

“Livie, watch the plate!” she yelped as her niece wobbled dangerously, then Izzie made a dramatic dive for the phone, just as Adamaris reached for it. 

Snatching it up like it was a live grenade, she pressed speak and tried to pretend she wasn’t slightly out of breath. 

“Hey Quinn,” she said, trying to sound composed.

“Hey, Iz.” 

His voice was warm, steady, familiar–and it did the rest of the melting for her. 

Of course, it was Quinn; he always had this uncanny talent for pulling her back into herself. Into the now. 

“Were you running a marathon for Noche Buena or something?” he teased. 

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Izzie huffed out a breathy laugh. “What’s up?” 

“Just wanted to check up on you, make sure you made it home safely.” 

“Oops,” she laughed. “Forgot that part.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you did.” 

“Well, luckily, I know my way home, am I right?” she joked.

“You’re not funny,” Quinn snorted–and she could hear the moment how he remembered it: him drunk off his ass, forgetting to get home…even though he lived two minutes down the street. 

Izzie couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips. The earlier tension, the ghost of that theatre room, the knot in her chest, melted another inch. Quinn’s voice had always done that. Softened the edges. Warmed the cold places. 

“I just wanted to say Merry Christmas,” he continued, quieter now. “And…I hope you get to enjoy it with your family. I know you must’ve missed them a lot.” 

The words hit her like a soft, unexpected blow. Her heart leapt, from her chest to her throat, sitting there, bright and aching. 

Quinn was always intentional. Always gentle in the way that mattered. And knowing he was here, in the same city, in the same cold December air…it sent butterflies flickering through her stomach. The good kind. 

The dangerous kind. 

For a moment, she almost said it–where are you? I’ll come meet you. But both of them needed this. This grounding. This coming-home, to themselves, not just the city. 

That’s when Izzie reminded herself to breathe. 

“Merry Christmas to you too, Quinn. Thank you for that. I hope you and your family get to enjoy Chicago’s beauty, hopefully the cold isn’t too harsh on you guys.” 

“Nah, this is a cake walk compared to Julian or Big Bear,” he chuckled. 

“Good.” 

“Hey, uh, before I go–where’s the best place to go for a hot girl walk?” 

“Why?” 

“We should go on one.”