Wicked Scandal (Misfits #2)

Chapter 8

WILDER

The day my mom passed away, she requested time alone with each of us boys. I laid beside her on the bed, holding her hand while we laughed and shared memories together. Then when it was time for me to go, she said something I’ll never forget. She told me, “Take chances, Wilder, because the one that could change your life might only happen once.”

It’s her. She’s CatEyes. At least, I think she is. After I told her the good news, I looked down momentarily. Her pants were raised up just slightly, but enough for me to see the tattoo on her ankle. A beautiful black dragonfly with the words “still I rise.”

I’m not sure how I didn’t realize it sooner. Granted, it was only recently that I began talking to CatEyes almost every day.

There was always this feeling in my gut that she wasn’t a student. I just never could have imagined that she was right under my nose this entire time.

My instinct was right—Mrs. Jenkins is in trouble. She mentioned that her home life is rough and that her past stops her from leaving. I have to find out what she meant by that. If she’s in danger, I have to help her.

She said I might not like what I find when I unveil her identity, but boy was she wrong. Now that I know who she is, everything makes more sense. That pull I feel toward her every time we are in the same room. The way my eyes always seem to find hers. I think I would be devastated if it were anyone else. We have a bond that no one will ever understand. For the first time ever, I think I believe in fate. She may be my teacher, but we both know she has become so much more. These feelings started back when she was helping me with my essay, and they have only grown since. I should have known it was her the day I received a new follower after our chat about social media.

I pay for ads to boost my account, so it is typical that I get a lot of followers at once. However, when I am not running one, my followers stick out more. And I wasn't advertising that day.

I don’t know what it was that made me message her the second I saw that dragonfly tattoo, but even then it was like the universe wouldn’t allow me to ignore this person.

Mrs. J was helping me find a way to be more authentic when I wrote my letter. I needed to make the administration feel for my situation and not just prove my capability as a student. She asked me how I felt about social media since I spent so much time on there, then she listened as I went into a twenty-minute deep dive of why SnapTok is so important to me.

She never judged me or said that my dreams were pointless or shallow. Instead, Mrs. J looked at me with this smile on her face as if she envied the joy I could find in such a simple task. Then, a few hours later, I had a new follower that I could not help but talk to.

I would force myself to go a day between messages sometimes so that she didn’t think I was obsessed with her. But I thought about her every day. Except for the moments when I was in class with Mrs. J. That was the only time I didn’t find myself fixated and searching for this person. Which should have been another clue.

I get in my car and follow Mrs. J home. She must be flustered because I don’t think she notices me at all.

I overheard my dad talking about how Troy Jenkins is leaving town for a few days to attend the US Conference for Mayors. I know that this is beyond inappropriate, but I just need to see her so I can piece together all these emotions running through me.

I need to settle my nerves and hear her tell me that she’s not in any immediate danger and then come up with a plan from there. I’m not a wait-and-see kind of person. That’s why I’m going now, only minutes after she tried to tell me what happened in the parking lot didn’t happen.

I understood what she meant. She’s a teacher. If we were seen by anyone, she could lose her job. Not to mention the scandal it would cause for my father. He asked us all to keep our heads low, so I need to be careful about this.

I feel something for Mr. J, but if I know she will be safe these last few weeks or so of school, I might be able to stay away until I graduate and this is no longer a conflict of interest.

Well, at least it takes away one conflict. She is still married, after all. I need to figure out what her husband is holding over her. She said her home life wasn’t the best, so there has to be a reason she stays.

When I pull up to her house, I watch as the garage door slowly closes with her car inside. I pull up behind it and kill the engine, getting out immediately. Since the garage is already closed, and there isn’t a side door, I go to the front.

Without hesitation, I ring the doorbell. But I’m surprised when a man's voice comes over the camera facing me.

“Can I help you, young man?”

Fuck. I’m certain he’s out of town, probably out of the state by now. He must have gotten an alert on his phone when I pressed the button. That’s the only explanation.

Think fast, Wilder.

“Hi, Mayor Jenkins. I umm…I’m so sorry to drop by like this but I desperately need Mrs. Jenkins’s help with an assignment from class. We have a test tomorrow and in our study group we realized we forgot to ask about a vital part of symbolism in the text. We don’t want to risk our grades and scholarships so I volunteered to come ask in person.”

Please believe me. Please believe me.

Static comes through the speaker, followed by the sound of the door opening slowly. I’m met with wide, cautious eyes and I flash her back the same look.

Before I can say anything, Mrs. Jenkins hurries away, leaving the door open as her husband speaks again, and I do my best to pretend that I don’t see her there. “This is our private home, Wilder. If you need to speak to my wife, you can do so during school hours. This is highly inappropriate. Leave now before I alert the authorities and have you arrested for trespassing. How do you think your father would feel about that?”

This is the first time he’s ever called me by my name. Seems he’s starting to pay attention, which is probably a bad thing.

Mrs. Jenkins comes back holding up a small piece of paper while nodding her head to the right. “Under the camera,” she mouths the words, but I understand what she’s saying.

I reach under the camera where my arm is out of Mayor Jenkins’s sight, and I take the note from her.

“Yes, sir,” I tell Mr. Jenkins while facing the camera. “You’re right. I’ll ask her tomorrow before the test.”

I blow out a breath as the static cuts off, then tuck the note into my pocket quickly while rushing back to my car.

There is so much I wanted to say to that man, but I need to stay calm until I figure out exactly what is happening.

Drive your car to the guesthouse next door. It’s a separate driveway. No cameras there.

Red flags are flying. Mayor Jenkins is definitely holding something over her head. Something that keeps her under his control. I could see it in her eyes when she opened the door and heard his voice.

This might be worse than I thought. I merely came to check on her—talk to her. But if my suspicions are right, the last thing I want to do is get her in any trouble.

As I pull my car out of the driveway, I look up at the house, noticing all the cameras attached. I understand being cautious as a political figure, but the amount of cameras installed on this house is a little over the top. So far I’ve spotted four…five…and now six, all on one side. Is he trying to keep people out, or keep one in, in particular inside?

Taking a sharp turn onto the dirt driveway beside their main house, my hands start to sweat with anxiety. This is a bad idea, but I need to know the truth.

The guesthouse sits back on a small amount of property surrounded by apple blossom trees and an abundance of greenery. Mayor Jenkins used to rent it out in the summers but haven’t for the last couple years. As far as I know, nobody lives here.

I’m actually surprised he doesn’t have this place wired as well. For such an overprotective man, he sure is dropping the ball here.

I bring my car to a spot directly in front of the house where the driveway ends. It’s much smaller than I imagined. Almost like one of those tiny houses people are buying these days.

Instead of getting out at the risk of screwing this up, I wait for Mrs. J. She says there are no cameras here, but after what I just witnessed at the front of the house, I’m not willing to take any chances.

About five minutes later, I see her walking briskly down a trail that connects the two properties.The way she keeps stealing glances over her shoulder reminds me of a teenager sneaking out, not a grown-ass woman who is in charge of her own decisions. Her arms are crossed tightly over the chest of a beige knit turtleneck that she’s paired with a pair of gray sweatpants.

It’s a strange combination and she wasn’t wearing that turtleneck before she opened the door. But I couldn’t pay too much attention with her husband watching. Something tells me she chose this outfit with the intent on hiding something from me, which makes me just want to tear it off her and demand to know all her secrets.

Gripping the steering wheel tight, I take a deep breath. Don’t do this Wilder, you’re the nice guy.

Once she’s close, I swing my door open and practically jump out. “Is everything okay?” I ask her, genuinely concerned about her nervous state.

She stares at me looking scared and confused. Every cell in my body is telling me to go to her and comfort her, but I’m not sure she would accept that right now.

“Why did you come here, Wilder?” Her voice gives nothing away. I can’t tell what she’s thinking at all and it drives me insane. She’s hiding from me. As if I have the capability of hurting her the same way I suspect her husband does.

“I had to see you,” I tell her truthfully. “I know it was dumb but I…I just had to and now I’m glad I did because you look like you could use a friend.”

Her hands drop from her chest. “We’re not friends, Wilder. I’m your teacher.”

Wow. Way to knock me off my fucking horse.

If she only knew what I know—that she is CatEyes—she might be singing a different tune. Her act has to be a show. Either that, or the guilt she’s feeling for building a friendship with one of her students is overpowering her desire to talk to me in person. I can’t tell her I know yet. I worry she’ll run away and shut me out. For now, I need to build her trust.

This word friend keeps coming up, and I think we both know it’s total bullshit. She doesn't need a friend; she needs to escape her abusive husband. And I don’t want to be her friend. I want to be her savior.

"I’m sorry,” she blurts out, defeat marring her features before she looks to the ground, like she often does with her husband. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but for your own good, please don’t come back here.”

I walk around my car and use my fingers to lift her chin. I hate when she tries to pull away, but I let her. “Your husband doesn’t scare me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well,” she drawls, fixing her eyes on my car. “He should. Troy does not take kindly to people coming on his property. Especially when he’s not home.”

Instead of moving her head, this time I step into her line of sight, my chest nearly touching hers. “Then why’d you send me over here?” I ask gently as she finally looks at me. “Why not just tell me to go home on that note.”

“Because…” She takes a step back, as if she’s nervous being this close to me. “Because I was worried you wouldn’t go home and it would make things worse.”

I quirk a brow. “How can things get worse? Are things bad?” She doesn’t know just how much I have seen, but I want to see if she will just tell me herself.

“Why are you doing that?” She shakes her head, her bottom lip trembling in a way that has rage boiling inside me. Not at her, but at the man who made her so afraid.

“Doing what?” I ask, trying to stay calm.

“Acting as if I’m some damsel in distress.” She throws her arms out, but I see the tremble in them. “I’m fine, Wilder.” By the way her voice shakes and her shoulders slump in on herself, I know it’s not true. I can’t tell if she wants me to see that or not, but I already know, so this time I push.

“Are you?”

“Yes!” she shouts, throwing her hands in the air again. “Do I not look fine?”

I grab her shoulders and really look at her. The ridiculous outfit, the tears building in her eyes, but most of all the way her expression begs me not to give up. “You look scared.”

Her eyes travel to the road, watching a car drive down it slowly. In an instant, she grabs me by the arm, pulling me toward the guesthouse. “We can’t talk out here. People will gossip and that’s the last thing I need right now.”

“Oh?” I chuckle. “But my car sitting in this driveway is invisible so long as we’re not standing by it?”

She scoffs. “Just get inside before the whole town begins talking.”

Her fingers move quickly as she punches in a code on the door, a code that I see and memorize. Once it beeps, she opens the door and we go inside. Without hesitation, she closes and locks it behind us.

She moves to a small window facing the driveway and bends over to look outside. Her hand is shaking and her breathing is rapid, as if we just ran a marathon. “I think we’re good. I don’t think anyone saw us.”

“So what if they did? We’re not doing anything wrong. It’s not like we’re having an affair.” I laugh, but the way she straightens her back and her eyes widen leads me to believe that’s what she’s worried people will think. “Is that what you’re worried about? People thinking you and I are sleeping together?”

“No,” she stammers. “Not at all. You’re my student, Wilder. Why would anyone think that?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Then what’s the big deal?”

“This.” Her hands glide between us. “Us together. Talking outside of school. It’s extremely unprofessional.”

“Us?”

She tries to brush off the comment, waving her hand in the air. “You know what I mean.”

I step closer to her, watching as her breath hitches. “No, I don’t. Care to elaborate?”

“Bad choice of words. I just mean?—”

My hand presses to her chest, right over her heart. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”

“F-feel what?”

“This thing between us.” My forehead drops to hers and I inhale her lavender scent. “The way the world stops spinning when we’re in the same room. How our eyes always find their way to one another.”

She shakes her head and separates us, averting her gaze. “You’re delusional. I-I don’t feel any of those things. I’m your teacher. I can’t.”

“You keep saying that.” I take another step toward her so that nothing separates us now. “But why am I here?”

Her shoulders lift, caging in her neck. “You tell me.”

“I wanted to see you.” I stand tall, my hand falling to her cheek and stroking it gently.

“Well, here I am. You can go now.” The way she leans into my touch reminds me of a cat, and it makes me smile. My beautiful CatEyes.

“Is that what you want?” I question after a moment of just touching her. It’s the first time she’s really allowing it and I want to stay in this moment forever.

There’s a beat of silence between us and it’s all I need to reaffirm what I believe. She does feel it.

“Of course it is. Troy is going to wonder where I am when he checks the cameras. I need to get home.”

“Then go.” Another step closer and our chests touch. I look down at her, she’s so petite and fragile. The thought of anyone hurting her has my fists clenching.

“I am.” But she melts into me more, as if she needs someone gentle to remind her of who she is.

The corner of my mouth lifts. “You’re not moving.”

“You go first.” Her eyes drift shut before she pushes back, creating space between us.

“Fine,” I say, before stepping into her and not giving her a choice. I need one more hit of her scent, one more moment where the heat of her imbeds itself in me and brings me to life. I look down at her mouth, temptation eating away at me. I wanna kiss her so fucking bad.

But when I put my hand against the wall behind her, she steps in the opposite direction, away from me.

Her hands fly to her cheeks as she angles her body away from me. It’s obvious she’s ashamed, or maybe embarrassed about what almost happened. But I’m not, and I don’t regret it.

“This can’t happen.” She covers her face as if she is about to cry. “I’m so sorry, Wilder.”

I rush to her side, pulling her hands down and forcing her tearstained eyes to look at me. “Don’t be sorry.”

“But I’m your teacher…”

“Stop saying that.” I pull her into a hug before looking down at her. “Yes, you are my teacher, but you’re so much more than that.”

She shakes her head, likely disappointed in herself, which kills me. “I’m an idiot is what I am.”

“Hey.” I squeeze her closer, making sure she feels this moment when our hearts beat in sync. “You’re not an idiot. You’re smart, compassionate, beautiful…” I step back with one of her hands in mine as I look her body up and down, biting my bottom lip. “And sexy as hell.”

Her features soften. “That’s sweet of you to say, Wilder. But you’re forgetting, I’m also a married woman.”

I quirk a brow. “Happily married?” I’d bet my life the answer is no, even if she won’t admit it to me.

“It’s complicated. But I’m married nonetheless.”

I pull her hand and spin her body so that her back presses against the wall. The air whooshes out of her, making me smile as my hands move to her waist, and I say, “Then tell me to leave and never come back.”