Chapter 3Quinn replied to a text from his mom while trying to make himself cognizant enough again. He’d slept surprisingly well, maybe because the town was quiet and he knew he could take most things it could throw at him.
Besides, he was pretty sure he’d know if Jimmy wanted to try and take him out. The previous day had proved that he could still read his cousin—a thing that had kept Quinn safe that last summer in town. He put his phone on the worn-out Formica table and forced himself to eat the toast he’d made.
Rehab, once he was through the worst withdrawals, had taught him how often he should eat, and it worked somewhat. In a few hours he’d want lunch, and then a snack in the afternoon and then dinner and an evening snack before bedtime. In some ways, rehab had felt like an around th
