Chapter 1
one
QUINN
Two Months Later
“Dad, you going to be okay until Lucy gets here?” I ask as I grab my coffee from the counter, my purse and computer bag already thrown over my shoulder.
My dad chuckles from the kitchen table. “Yes, Bean.” I smile at his nickname for me—the one he’s used for as long as I can remember. “I’ll be fine for ten minutes. You worry too much sometimes.”
I pause for a moment, studying my dad. He’s still so young—only fifty-six—and unlikely to make it to fifty-seven. His hair is still dark, though, there’s definitely more salt and pepper coloring to it these days. The wrinkles around his eyes, while present, aren’t too deep yet. He’s still fit from his time as a firefighter, still able to move around with ease. If you didn’t know him and what he’s going through, you would never even guess he’s sick.
“You’re right,” I say, putting my things down and making my way toward him. “I’m sorry. I just love you.”
My father stands from the table, pulling me in for a hug. “I know, and I love you too. I know where the worry comes from, and I understand it. You don’t have to apologize.”
I relax into the hug, taking a deep breath and inhaling the comforting scent of my father—familiar and just like home. He’s still one of the strongest men I know, physically and emotionally.
I pull away, trying to get my emotions under control. “You still good to take Max to school?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Yep. And you’re good to pick him up? I should be home from my appointment in time if you can’t.”
“I should be good to get him. I only have second and third period,” I say, returning to the counter to gather my things. “I’ll hang out at the school until the end of the day, though, then head straight to the middle school to pick him up.”
After graduating high school, I left Ashford Falls, ran for New York, and never looked back. College opened a whole new world to me. I got to travel, meet new people, and experience new cultures. I submitted work to exciting competitions and exhibits. And somehow, I made a name for myself.
After graduating with my degree in photography, I was doing exactly what I wanted to. Coming home and getting a job as a part-time high school photography teacher wasn’t where I thought I would end up, but I was grateful the opportunity even existed for me.
I didn’t necessarily have to work—at least, not right away. I could afford to take a little time off and be with my family. But I’ve never been good at sitting still. The two classes might not be enough for me, but it’s a start. Something to get me out of the house—and out of my head.
After Caleb called to tell me it was time to come home, I immediately started searching for jobs in the area. I’d struck gold when it came to luck with the job at the high school. It was a miracle Ashwood Falls High was even hiring, and a miracle the principal had been willing to allow me the time I needed to rush my certification and still spend time with my family.
Based on what I learned from the principal during my interview, the previous teacher had planned to retire at the end of this school year, but a family emergency forced her to leave over the summer. And they’d been struggling to hire a replacement until I came along.
The art teacher at the school had been teaching both his classes plus the photography classes, but it was a lot of work for one person. I was thankful to him, but who knows what I would walk into when I got to school? I still hadn’t met or spoken with the man about the students. I hoped he’d be in early so we could talk before his first class started.
“I need to get caught up on everything the students have been doing over the last month. I won’t be offering any extra dark room hours this week.”
“All right,” Dad says as he comes over, picking up my coffee cup and handing it to me. “Then have a good day at work, and I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Love you,” I say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out the door for my first day at school.
“Ms. Marks! Lovely to see you again,” Principal Carter says, striding toward me as I entered the front office.
I smile and shake his hand. “Please, it’s Quinn. It feels weird hearing you call me that, Principal Carter.”
Demitri Carter had recently become principal when I was a senior here. While I hadn’t been a terrible teenager, I wasn’t an angel either. I’d been sent to his office a number of times that year. But I remember he had been kind and fair when I was a student, and I was looking forward to working for him.
“Well, if you expect me to call you Quinn, then you’ll have to call me Demitri in return,” he says with a large smile.
“Touché, Principal Carter. I’ll work on it.” We both laugh as he directs us back out into the hall.
Walking through Ashford Falls High School as an adult is different. While I graduated from this school, I haven’t been inside its walls since. It sure smells the same, but boy, does it all feel smaller somehow.
“I know the school isn’t new to you, and honestly, not much has changed. I’m sure you remember Mr. Lewis. He retired about five years ago. His replacement, Mr. Day, has been a wonderful addition to the school. He’s also been handling your classes since Mrs. Cushner left.” We made a turn away from the front office, getting closer to the photography classroom.
“It wasn’t ideal having him cover the classes. He lost his second-period planning and had to combine his third-period Art I class and your advanced photo class, but he handled it wonderfully. And you’ve really lucked out with the students in that class, making it a tad easier on everyone.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to start earlier. I hadn’t expected the move to take quite as long as it did.” Breaking the lease on my apartment in New York had taken longer than I’d expected it to. I initially planned on keeping my apartment but decided against it. I didn’t know how long I would stay in Ashford Falls, but nothing said I had to return to New York, either.
Luckily, I’d been granted my provisional teaching certification quickly, though, it had been a struggle to do it with everything else going on.
Then there was the fact I wanted to spend a little time getting re-situated with Dad and Max at the house. Principal Carter and the board had been understanding about all of it.
“No, don’t apologize at all. You have quite a bit going on at home. I’m surprised you decided to jump right into work. Though, I am grateful you did.” His eyebrows pinch in, a look of pity passing over his face.
I’ve yet to escape that look of pity on everyone’s face when my dad gets brought into a conversation. Obviously, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my situation a secret from the administration at the school, but it would have been nice if the entire town didn’t know about it. But that was part of living in a small town. People knew about everything, especially when Dad had still been the fire chief when he was first diagnosed years ago.
“I’m not very good at sitting idle. I need something to do, and working part-time will still allow me to be around for my dad and Max, which I appreciate.”
“Well, we’ll be here to help in any way we can.” Principal Carter guides me around the final corner to the hall where the photography and art classrooms are. “I gave you the keys when we met last week, but the room should already be unlocked,” he says, coming to a stop outside the room.
“Thank you, Principal Carter. Not just for getting me to my room, but for taking a chance on me.”
“Ms. Marks, you were a gifted student when you were here, and your talent has only grown over the years. We are fortunate to have you here teaching these students. I do wish it were under better circumstances, though.” That look of pity returns, along with a comforting squeeze to my shoulder. “I’ll let you get to it, but I’m here if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” We shake hands one more time before Principal Carter returns the way we came.
Turning back toward the classroom, my eye catches on a few display cases of student work. I remember taking great pride when my work got selected for those cases. As I step closer, I see three cases in the hall between the classrooms. One is dedicated to the photography students, one is for the art students, and the one in the center is a mix of the two.
I take a moment to look even closer at the work, allowing me to see what the students have been up to. Even if this work is from last year, I’ll have a better idea of what they’ve already learned. Curriculum is great for determining what we are required to teach students, but all art forms, while having technical aspects, are still completely open to interpretation. Being an artist often means being vulnerable and sharing parts of yourself with the viewer. I want to know what the students have been exploring in their own work.
I pause as I get to the second case, the one with a mix of art and photography. The photograph in the upper right corner catches my eye. It’s a photo of a girl standing in an empty room, her back to the viewer, but her face turned so you can see her profile. She is looking out the window to her left, and out the window you can see a car towing a moving trailer driving down the road. A collage of pictures depicting a happy family is on the wall in front of her. The colors are muted, and while the room is dark, it’s light enough to see everything clearly.
“That one always catches my eye too,” a deep voice says from behind me.
“How do you know which one I’m looking at?” I ask, continuing to stare at the photo.
“Don’t get me wrong, all the work in this case is impressive, but that one stands out among the rest. For starters, it’s darker, both in color and in subject. It’s also on the larger side compared to the other work displayed,” the stranger says as he steps up next to me.
I hum in acknowledgment, having a difficult time looking away from it. “It’s old.”
“I’m sorry?” I can see the man turn toward me in my periphery, but I continue staring at the picture.
“The photo, it’s not from this year, or last year. Same with some others here,” I say, finally turning to him.
I’m instantly struck by how gorgeous he is. He’s tall, well over six feet, for sure. Probably close to six-foot-six, if I had to guess. His hair is dark and a little long but well-kept. His eyes draw me in, and I struggle to look away. Behind a pair of dark square-rimmed glasses, I can see they’re hazel with this almost golden ring around them. His nose is a little large but, honestly, perfect for his face. He’s got stubble lining his jaw, giving him a rugged look. And he’s fit, carrying himself with a grace I’m not used to seeing in a man.
“You’re not wrong,” he says, pulling me from my thoughts as he turns back to the case in question. “A few years ago, Mrs. Cushner and I decided we wanted to showcase the work of both our current students’ and students who have graduated.” He pauses, glancing over at me, catching me still staring at him. “We wanted kids walking through these halls to see what they might be capable of if given the chance.”
“That’s smart,” I say, forcing myself to turn away from him.
“How’d you know these were older pieces?”
“Some of them looked familiar to me.” I pause, my eyes moving back to the photo in the upper right corner. “And that one’s mine,” I say, pointing to the photo in question.
“It’s yours?” he asks, turning back toward me.
“It is. I graduated about ten years ago.” I say, turning to look at him. I pause for a second. I’ve met gorgeous men before, but something about this one catches me off guard. But now isn’t the time for me to figure it out. “I’m Quinn Marks, the new photography teacher.”
“Declan Day, the art teacher,” he says, putting his hand out for a handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Day.” I place my hand in his, returning the handshake. I release a slight gasp at the spark I feel from the simple touch.
I’ve found plenty of men attractive before, but I’ve never felt this spark. Not when first meeting someone and not after knowing them for a while. This is brand new, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
I don’t believe in love at first sight, nor do I think that’s what this is. I think it’s more curiosity than anything else, and even that concerns me. I don’t have time to be curious about anyone, least of all a man I’m going to be working closely with.
He smiles. “Please, it’s Declan. I hate hearing the students call me ‘Mr. Day’. I can’t add more people to that list.” He was gorgeous before, but with him smiling at me now, he’s devastating.
I look down at the ground, trying to gather my racing thoughts, before looking back at him. “All right, but only if you call me Quinn.”