Page 62 of Shuttered Hearts

I am in love with her—her mind, her spirit, her body, all of it.

Even before I married Melissa, I wasn’t sure if I believed in soulmates and true love. I’m not sure I do now either, but if itexists, I’m pretty sure Quinn is it for me. She’s not perfect—I know that—but she is perfect for me, no matter how cheesy she would say that is.

I don’t know if she’ll stay when the worst happens, and her dad is gone. But I know even if she leaves, and even if it breaks my heart, I will never regret having this time with her.

“Declan!” Quinn shouts when she sees me in her doorway. “Come dance with me!” She rushes to me, pulling me into the classroom.

I laugh as I drop my bag to one of the tables before spinning Quinn, pulling her into my arms, and dancing around the classroom with her.

“You looked like you were thinking hard over there.”

“I tried talking to Tyler.” I pull her in closer, wanting to feel her body against mine.

She runs her fingers through the hair at the base of my neck almost absentmindedly. “It didn’t go well?”

“As well as you would expect.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” We’re quiet as we continue dancing in her classroom. “You’re not listening to Christmas music?”

She laughs. “No, I needed a break from it.”

The song switches to “Like Real People Do” by Hozier, and I pull Quinn in as close as I can, her head falling to my shoulder as we slowly dance in her classroom.

“Can we make sure we do this sometimes?” she says so quietly I almost don’t hear her.

“What? Dance in your classroom?” I mumble against the side of her head.

“Not necessarily the classroom part, but the dancing part, yeah.” She lifts her head to look at me. “I’d like to continue dancing with you.”

The look in her eye makes me think this is bigger than just dancing. But I won’t push her to talk about this, not with the look in her eye.

I simply nod and say, “Okay, we’ll keep dancing. Whether it’s in your classroom, in your living room or mine, we’ll keep dancing.”

“You’re comingto the courthouse on Friday, right?” Quinn asks later that night. She’s lying half on top of me, our legs tangled together with the sheets. I’ve been slowly tracing patterns across her bare back, but she’s been quiet for so long, I thought she’d fallen asleep already.

“Of course I’ll be there. I got Demitri to cover my fifth period class, so we can leave as lunch starts.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I think we’re done talking, but she eventually speaks again, softly saying, “Thank you.”

“Quinn, what’s going on?” I ask quietly, squeezing her. I know she’s right here, and she can’t just run from me, but she’s so quiet right now. I fear what she’s about to say.

“It’s nothing,” she whispers.

“Bug, we promised we’d talk to each other. I can hear it in your voice and feel it in your body. Something’s wrong.” I want to sit up to look at her, but I think that might make it worse. So instead, I place my hand on top of hers, resting on my chest, and flatten my hand on her back, gently holding her in place so she has no doubt I am here.

“I’m scared,” she finally says into the quietness.

“Of what?”

“Seeing her again.”

“You won’t be alone, and you don’t have to talk to her.”

“I know.” She’s quiet, but I know she wants to say more, so I wait patiently, letting her find the words. “I think I want to talk to her.”

“Okay.”

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