Page 10 of Unexpected Love

AVA

I stand thereafter Gage walks away, forcing myself not to look over my shoulder at his retreating back. It’s more of a struggle than I want to admit. I have no doubt the view from the back would be just as good as the view from the front.

I wasn’t lying when I told him he was attractive. That man definitely doesn’t fit the stereotype of the donut-loving cop many movies and television shows always portray. No, that man clearly takes care of himself and takes his job seriously.

He wasn’t in his uniform, but the badge was clear as day hooked to his belt. He wore dark pants that hugged his hips and thighs like a second skin, a dark button-down with the top button undone, and a sports coat. I would have expected a police officer attending court to dress in a suit, but small towns typically allow for a more casual appearance. I’m sure I stand out dressed as formally as I am in my sleek and tailored black pantsuit with a matching blazer.

It took me a moment to really take him in when he came up to me, but it was difficult to look away once I did. His heightwas the first thing I noticed. Being five-foot-four means almost everyone is taller than me, but Gage towered over me.

His aqua-blue eyes got me next. They were so bright, and while initially filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher, they quickly shifted to one full of mischief. It was hard to look away. But his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw covered with the lightest amount of stubble grabbed my attention—another thing that didn’t fit the court appearance I had come to expect from my time with the firm in Boston.

His honey-brown hair, shorter on the sides and longer on top, was tousled slightly, causing it to fall along one side of his forehead, giving him a rugged look.

He’s the definition of an attractive man, at least for me, and that is more than dangerous, especially with how he flirted with me—and how my body responded to that flirting.

One too many men have let me down when I thought I could trust them. Being attracted to a man as good-looking as Gage Flynn is just asking for more heartache.

Besides, I’m not in Ashford Falls for anything other than helping the Marks family. They have to stay my primary focus.

Gage is long gone by the time I glance over my shoulder in the direction he walked. I have no doubt, if I’m in town long enough, I’ll run into him again. That’s the hazard of being in a small town—you can’t avoid anyone for very long.

After finishingup at the courthouse, I make my way back to Declan’s house, planning on hanging out there until he gets home from work. Even after changing into leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, I can’t sit still—I’m too antsy.

I know there’s nothing else I can do with Scott’s case right now—I’ve done all I can.

After getting home from breakfast yesterday morning, Declan and I had a chill day, just catching up and spending time with each other. I went to my room at the same time as Declan last night, hoping to sleep, but sleep hasn’t been easy for me since everything happened with Brian and my parents.

When I finally gave up trying to sleep, I worked on the return suit for Scott’s case. That man loves those he cares for with his whole heart, and to try and rip a child from his home when he has limited time left in this world is the worst kind of human.

Filing the return suit this morning was the next step. There’s literally nothing else I can do until we hear back from the courts.

No, my unease comes from the number of unanswered notifications on my phone—all from my parents.

I still haven’t spoken to them since the night at their house over two weeks ago. As far as I know, they still think I’m at my apartment in Harborview. I want to be shocked they haven’t reached out to Declan, concerned about my well-being, but I’m not. After everything that’s happened, I’m more surprised they keep calling.

The silent treatment Declan and I received as children wasn’t in the casual or playful way most parents do, pretending the sound of our voice was the wind or something equally silly. No, they treated us like we didn’t exist. There was no acknowledgement that we were there at all. Meals weren’t made for us, we weren’t tucked into bed, we weren’t directed to take a bath or brush our teeth. For all intents and purposes, we simply didn’t exist.

It sounds harsh—and it was—but it was also all we knew when it came to punishment. Our parents weren’t the kind to come talk to us about what happened, to allow us to explain ourselves, to help us process the situation or our feelings. Theywould wait for us to apologize for not listening or doing what we were told before acknowledging us and allowing us to move forward.

Declan and I learned at a very young age that it was easier to do what they wanted than fight them and deal with their version of punishment. Mom and Dad also altered how they communicated with us, manipulating us into believing whatever they wanted us to do was our idea—though, I didn’t realize that until just recently.

Looking at the clock, I realize it’s close to Declan’s lunchtime. Sitting here thinking about everything that happened back home will only drive me insane. I know I need to figure out what to do in the long run, but I can avoid it for a little longer.

I’m a little early when I get to the school—but luckily, the staff in the front office remember me from the few times Declan has brought me to school with him, and once I finish signing in they let me head to Declan’s classroom.

As I walk past the first classroom in the art hallway, Quinn catches my eye. This must be her room now, but I don’t see any students in there. This might be the perfect opportunity for me to get to know her a little better.

“Hey!” I say from the doorway, making her jump slightly from behind her desk.

“Hey, your brother’s classroom is one more door down, but he’s got a class right now.” Her voice is friendly enough, but I’ve made my career on being able to read people, and I can see from her tense shoulders and the way her eyes bounce around slightly that she’s nervous.

“Oh, I know. I got here a little early, but thought I could bug you for a little.” I step into the classroom easily, trying to show her I mean nothing but getting to know her. “Unless you’re busy.”

“No, I’m not busy. Come on in.” Her shoulders fall a bit, and she waves me further into the room, standing behind her desk.

“Are you enjoying teaching so far?” I ask as I look around, taking in the artwork she has hung on the walls.

“You know what? Surprisingly, I am.” She hops onto the edge of her desk, taking a seat. “It’s not what I expected, but I love watching when a technique or concept clicks in their brains. It’s fun.”

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