It's one of those days. One where he seems to be bogged down by a billion and one reminders. He knows she's feeling the same. Hell, she might be feeling worse.
He got word from Jake—who heard from Marley who was talking to Unique who heard it from Kitty—that Quinn was back in Lima earlier than expected.
Why she decided to come back after she had an out was beyond him. Then again, he had an out. Came running back the minute things were harder than he thought them to be.
He wants to call her. There are only a few hours left in the day, and he wants to call. Hell, he called his mom and his nana and even sent the word out to Finn's mom. But there was something about her. Something about contacting her that made him feel like the sky was falling.
Screw it. Hopping into his truck (thankfully, he got it back—traded his bike for it), he heads back home for the rest of the day.
Well, not his home. More like the home belonging to someone who felt like home to him.
He can't show up empty handed. So he doesn't. Stops at the supermarket and picks out the nicest bouquet of flowers they have. A mix of some colorful stuff he doesn't know by name but knows they aren't her favorites.
When he reaches her house, he parks right behind her mother's car. After hers was totaled during that accident, he doesn't think she invested in a new one.
He rings the doorbell once he reaches the porch. Last time he was standing here, waiting for that same door to be open, he was humoring her before graduation.
He still has to thank her for that.
Her mother reaches the door. She greets him with a smile on her face, one he returns.
"Happy Mother's Day," he says.
Judy smiles.
"These are for…" he begins to say.
Judy holds her hand out for them, taking the flowers as she ushers him inside.
"Is she…?"
"She's upstairs. I'll go put these in water."
He nods, thanks her, then heads upstairs. When he reaches her door, he knocks lightly. Her voice comes in from the other side.
"Mom, I said to go away!"
"I'm not your mom…"
"Puck…?"
He takes that as a sign to enter. He opens the door and finds her in bed. Even in the dim lighting of the lamp, he can see her eyes are red and puffy. How long has she been crying?
She doesn't say anything. Doesn't even tell him to come closer or leave. He takes it upon himself to step closer. He kicks his shoes off on the other side of the bed before lying down next to her. She grabs his hand and tucks it closer to her, holding on tight.
"Happy—"
"Please don't," she whispers. "Not tonight."
"Okay."
She doesn't let go until morning. It's no longer Mother's Day.