Page 29 of Shuttered Hearts

I remember they called to tell me Quinn had been in an accident the week before but they were just finding out. They’d asked me if I could make sure Max got to school and all of his other activities, which I agreed to without question.

They’d been upset when we spoke. They were frustrated she hadn’t called sooner and were worried because she was still in the hospital. They’d both gone to help in any way possible.

I also remember when they came home from that trip a couple of weeks later. They’d wanted Quinn to come back torecuperate with them. She’d declined, frustrating both of them to no end. But it seemed like there was something else bothering them. Caleb had been a zombie when they returned from that trip, going through the motions. I’d thought it was concern over how close they came to losing Quinn, but obviously, I had been wrong.

Quinn turns away, making her way around the kitchen island and into the living room. I give her a moment before I follow, both of us sitting on the couch.

“They knew it was more than an accident when they saw me. It was more than just my jaw. They didn’t ask, and I never told them exactly what happened, but we all knew the truth.” Quinn pauses, but I can tell she wants to say more. “After they went home, I didn’t take care of myself, physically or mentally. I turned to the wrong things to help numb the pain.” She’s quiet as she talks, looking down at her hands in her lap. I scoot closer but still don’t touch her. I want her to know I’m here, supporting her however she needs.

“I woke up one morning in some stranger’s apartment, having no idea how I’d gotten there, and it terrified me.” She lifts her head, tears in her eyes, and all I want, more than anything, is to go back in time to be there for her. “I went into a two-week program, and when I got out, I was adamant I find my mother. I just needed to understand why she’d turned to drugs. I needed to understand why she left. I needed to know how to stop myself from turning into her because that’s the path I saw myself on.”

I inch even closer. My body angled toward her, and my arm draped over the back of the couch. I’m still not touching her, but I can feel the heat coming off her body.

“By the time the PI got me the information, I couldn’t do it. I’d been sure finding her was the answer to all of it, but I was scared. I’ve always been like her, even though she’s the last person I want to resemble. I was afraid the answers she mighthave given me would show me there’s no other path for me to follow other than hers.” The tears finally break, but I’m not the one who reaches out. It’s Quinn who falls into my chest, her body heaving with sobs, and I don’t hesitate to pull her close.

I don’t say anything at first. I hold her while she releases everything she’s been hanging onto. I have no idea what I should say, anyway. What she’s experienced in her life is something I’ll never be able to understand. All I can do is be here, showing her she doesn’t have to go through it alone.

I have no doubt Caleb and Emily tried everything they could to get Quinn to open up, but from what I’ve learned about her, she has to be ready to share. Otherwise, she will freeze you out.

When her sobs stop, I tell her the only thing I know for sure. “Quinn, I’ll admit, I don’t know your mother. Scott and Caleb don’t like to talk about her, but that alone proves you are nothing like your mother,” I tell her softly. “Your dad and Caleb rarely stop talking about you. They are both so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

She pulls back to look at me, and even with her eyes puffy from the tears and mascara tracking down her face, she’s beautiful.

I wipe her cheeks clean and cup them in my hands to make sure she can’t look away from me. “You are one of the most important people in this world to your family, and they are the same for you. You would do anything for them. The fact you moved home for an undetermined amount of time proves you are nothing like your mother. You may look like her, but that’s where the similarities end.”

“But I left. I got addicted to drugs. I’ve never felt bad about leaving them.”

“No, I know that last part isn’t true,” I interrupt her. “I may not have met you until a few weeks ago, but I’ve heard about you from everyone in your family, even Lucy. I know how guilty youfelt going back to work after your dad was first diagnosed.” Her face is still in my hands, and I don’t let go. I want to make sure she sees the seriousness in my face. “You are nothing like your mother, Quinn. You are your own person with a beautiful soul. Anyone who knows you can’t help but want to be close to you.”

I see the tears form in her eyes before she closes them, bringing her hands up to my wrists, pulling them away from her face. I bring one hand to the back of her head, pulling her forward into my chest again. My other hand goes to her back, holding her close.

“You are nothing like your mother,” I repeat.

We stay wrapped up together until I realize Quinn has cried herself to sleep. As gently as I can, I lift her and carry her to her room, placing her on the bed. I’m grabbing the blanket draped over the foot of her bed when she stirs slightly, seeing me in her room.

“Don’t leave,” she mumbles.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her as I place the blanket over her, and she falls asleep.

I stand there studying her. I’m surprised she looks as peaceful as she does now, but I don’t take it for granted. She deserves a little peace.

I’m quiet as I make my way back to the living room. I don’t expect to sleep much tonight, but I grab a blanket and make myself as comfortable as possible on her couch.

I’m standingin the kitchen making myself a cup of coffee the next morning when I hear Quinn’s door open gently. I turn slowly to find her standing in the doorway of her room.

I give her a moment before I say anything. “Morning.”

“You stayed.” It’s not a question, but I see the shock on her face.

“You asked me not to leave, and we may not have known each other long, but I like to think we’re friends.” I turn back to the coffee and pour two cups from the pot that’s finished brewing. “I’ll always do what I can for a friend,” I say as I turn back to her, placing one cup on the kitchen island where she can grab it.

“Declan. I don’t know what to say.” She takes a few steps toward the kitchen, picking up the coffee hesitantly.

“You don’t have to say anything, but I’m here if you ever want to talk—about any of it. Otherwise, nothing has changed. I’ll still be around attending all of your family events. I’ll still see you at work, and I’m still hoping I run into you Thursday night after my game.” I offer a small smile. “Maybe I can even convince you to come watch one.”

She studies me quietly for a minute before sipping her coffee. “Thank you, Declan.”

“Always.”

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