Page 61 of Fragile

“Maeve, it’s so good to see you. I missed you last time!” Quinn says, wrapping her arms around her, just as Maeve turns her attention to me.

“And who is this handsome young man?” she asks, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“This is Miles,” Quinn introduces as she smiles at the interaction. “He’s helping me with the class today.”

Maeve’s eyes light up even more as she extends a hand to me. “Well, Miles, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I must say, Quinn hasnever mentioned how dashing her friend is.” She gives me a playful wink, making me chuckle.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Maeve.” Taking her hand, she gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, all good things, I hope!” Maeve coos, clutching at her imaginary pearls.

“Of course, only the best,” I assure her and return her playful gaze with a charming smile.

“Well, aren’t you a smooth talker,” Maeve says, still smiling. “Quinn, you’ve brought quite the gentleman with you today.”

Quinn’s cheeks flush slightly as she exchanges a glance with me. “Yeah, he’s not bad,” she admits with a sweet smile. “Figured he might learn a thing or two.”

“As long as I get to taste-test, I’m in.” Throwing a wink to Quinn, I rub my hands together and revel in the deeper shade of pink that stains her freckled cheeks.

Maeve’s chuckle stops Quinn’s response as she says, “Come on, you two lovebirds, let’s get you set up in the hall.” As she walks away, Quinn turns to face me, eyes wide.

“Taste-test?!” she whisper-hisses.

I can’t hold back the grin that begs to break free. “Yeah, Queenie, I want to taste…everything.” Stepping closer, I dust my knuckles over her cheek, following the blush down her delicate neck and collarbone. Her breathing shallows and those emerald eyes flutter before me like she could collapse into my arms at any moment. I lean forward quickly, pressing a brief kiss to her lips, ignoring the fact that I want more.

“Baking,” she whispers. “We need to bake.” Reality seeps back into her gaze, the focus widening her pupils once more, but not before she homes in on my lips and takes a deep, satisfying swallow, one that makes me want to combust.

“Baking, right. Let’s go.” I nod once, taking her hand and following where Maeve went.

***

I look over to Quinn as she opens a leather-bound book, and I see something so surprising it hits me like a freight train. Grief is a strange thing. It twists through time, tangles in memories, but mostly, it’s always something that sneaks up on me in the most unexpected moments. I didn’t expect it to find me today, but as I’m surrounded by the comforting scent of vanilla and cinnamon, I try to take a deep breath, as fractured memories rattle around my brain. My eyes stay fixed on what Quinn is holding in her hands.

“Quinn, is that…” I pause, because I’ve only ever seen it on a card from my sixth birthday that’s tucked away in my childhood bedroom. “Is that my mom’s handwriting?”

Quinn shifts nervously and nods, dragging her fingers over the small writing, and my heart thuds. “It is,” she says quietly over the chatter in the room around us.

“Where did you get that?”

“She gave me some recipes for my fifth birthday.” She pauses for a second, guilt flitting across her features. “I thought you knew, I’m sorry.”

I didn't know. And now, staring at the handwritten card, heartache crashes over me, transporting me back to the boy who suddenly lost his mom. Years have passed since she died, but the pain feels as raw as if it happened yesterday. Seeing my mom's recipes alive in Quinn's hands is both beautiful and heartbreaking.

“I didn’t know,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “But don’t be sorry. I’m glad you have them.”

Quinn pauses until our eyes connect again, her expression a mix of sympathy and something deeper. “I’ve used them a lot over the years. Your mom was an amazing baker, and her recipes are like little pieces of her.”

My chest tightens, and I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. “I remember her baking with us when I was really young. It’s one of the few clear memories I have of her.”Really the only one that I remember.My head fills with the distant sounds from that day of her laughing, Quinn being covered in flour as she stood on a wooden stool, hip to hip with my mom. The smell of sugar and butter floated around the kitchen as we all made my mom’s favorite cookies.

Quinn’s eyes soften, and she reaches out, placing a hand on my arm. Knowing she’s kept and cherished something so precious to me, and made it a part of her life, makes my heart ache and swell at the same time. I take a minute to look at her, really look at her, and something shifts inside me. I see the depth of her care, something she’s always given away so freely. Her and my mom always got on so well, and maybe that’s why, because they were so similar. I haven’t given it much thought until now.

Quinn is the most caring person I’ve ever known. The way she’s been there for me, holding me together even when I felt like falling apart, my entire life. When my mom passed, she didn’t leave my room. When my dad worked twenty-four-seven after that, she would sit on her porch with me while I waited, staring at my house across the street wondering if he’d decide to come home this weekend. And even now, she’s holding me together while I try to navigate this. Through everything, Quinn has always been there.

And in this moment, I realize something else. Maybe I’ve been falling for her for a while, maybe my whole life. If I think about it, I’ve always gravitated to her, and she’s been the same with me. If she was late for curfew, she’d sneak into my house, because it was so much easier than sneaking into her own, and ask me to walk into her house with her. Which only happened once because nine times out of ten, we were together anyway, and both walked in to face the disappointing headshakes of herdad. Then we’d pass out in the cinema room, watching movies, which is why we still watch so many even now. We’ve spent years being intertwined.

Only, I can’t forget that I’m still walking a tight rope, scared to fall, scared to lose things in my life, scared to mess everything up.

The last two years have been clustered with so many bad decisions on my part… But I also know that I have her, and she’s here for me and more important than any of it. Always has been, even before I kissed her. Even before she opened my eyes to something more than friendship. So, what if everything I thought I wanted was a lie and there’s one thing I want more than anything. What if she’s my one?

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