28. Avery
28
AVERY
W hen I took Wesley’s hand that night and let him pull me out from under the bed, it was like he pulled me into a completely new world.
They had been so worried, and why wouldn’t they be? My panic attack came as a complete shock to them. If I had told them about it or if I had shown them my anxieties and fears when I was feeling them, maybe I wouldn’t have scared them so badly.
That night, I’d let them hold me as I cried and shook and even screamed. No one grabbed my arms and shook me or called me a name or threatened to send me to the nuthouse for my “extreme behavior outbursts”.
All they did was hold me tightly and talk me through it when I needed it.
It was the first time any romantic partner has ever treated me that way. I didn’t even know it was an option.
I felt cherished, cared for, and most surprising of all, safe.
Just thinking about that night makes me feel those things all over again.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to tell you about it, but I can show you some of it,” I say after I’ve calmed down some.
“Are you sure you’re ready to do that? We can wait if you’re not,” Phillip says.
“It’s been hard keeping this from you. I was so scared you’d think less of me or blame me, but not anymore. I need you to know.” I take a breath and steel my nerves. “In the top drawer of my dresser, there is a red binder. It’s where I documented everything when I realized I had to leave.”
They cluster around my dresser, slowly flipping through the texts, emails, and transcripts of the recordings I made when I was feeling brave.
I know exactly when they flip to a page with a photo of an injury on it.
Phillip gets increasingly pale and his hands shake.
Jamie blinks a lot like he’s trying not to cry.
Wesley has white knuckles and looks like he’s ready to punch someone.
It should scare me, but it doesn’t. I know he would never lay a hand on me. Maybe it’s a little twisted, but seeing him so angry on my behalf somehow makes me feel safer.
I don’t regret showing them the binder. If anything, it was a relief to no longer be hiding anything from them.
It’s been difficult for me to do, but over the past few weeks, I’ve been starting to open up to them more and tell my story. Each time I do, I’m almost overwhelmed by the amount of care they show me.
Of course, part of the reason it’s been easier to open up is because Kyle is following through on his threats. Every day I come in for class, the secretary gives me a few letters of “fan mail.”
They’re anonymously sent and full of veiled threats and disgusting comments. I open them in front of the secretary each time so I have a witness. Then I make four copies of the original—a copy for the academy president, a copy for their lawyer, a copy for mine, and a copy for Dimitria.
I don’t necessarily need one for Dimitria, but she caused the problem in the first place so it only seems fair to include her in the fallout.
What I actually tell her when she comes to complain is, “All data is good data, right? I don’t know much about it, but I think it’s important.” Then I look at her with as stupid of an expression as I can muster before she stomps out of the room.
Two weeks ago, I would never have poked that bear, but not keeping a secret from my men has given me a confidence boost. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that every time I stand up for myself, I get a treat.
The first time, they made me come so hard I couldn’t even stand up.
After that, I got to pick out a new piece of furniture for Wesley’s dungeon.
I wonder what I’ll get this time.
I know, I know. I sound like a toddler with a sticker chart, but damn, apparently, that method really works.
I know that the real reason they’re doing this has more to do with distracting me from Kyle’s letters than trying to celebrate my standing up for myself, but it still feels nice.
Today, when I go to the front desk to check in, there’s a flower arrangement on the receptionist’s desk.
Lilies—Calla Lilies, to be specific.
I know from the pit in my stomach and the pinched look on the receptionist's face that they’re for me.
“Hello, Avery,” Kay says with forced calm. “Checking in for culinary with Mr. Brooks?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I’ll send him an alert that you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
I move to sit in the waiting area hoping to avoid having to take the flowers, but she stops me.
“There’s one more thing, I’m afraid. Those are for you.”
I sigh. “I figured they might have been.”
Before I look at the card, I pull out my phone and snap a few pictures of the flowers to add to my binder.
As is the custom with Kyle, there’s no greeting, just a hastily scrawled message.
Who do you think you are, strutting around this campus with your painted on jeans and showing so much cleavage you’re practically topless?
Shouldn’t you be at home taking care of the brat you tried to trap me with instead of trying to fuck your way up the social ladder?
If you actually think you’ll pass the exams and get your certifications, then you’re delusional. You should quit now, go back to being full-time at Brookside, and save what little dignity you have left.
By the way, that green top of yours makes you look jaundiced.
-K,L,
My blood turns to ice.
He’s either having me followed or doing it himself.
Please, please, please let him have hired a P.I. or something.
“Kay, what service dropped off these flowers?”
“The man wasn’t wearing any type of uniform now that I think of it. It was just so busy when he came in that I barely noticed. There were eight students waiting to check in, and he just pushed by and dropped them off and told me they were for you.”
Well, that doesn’t help. It could have been anyone.
“I need you to tell me exactly what you remember about him. Please, this is very important.”
I hate how desperate I sound, but I have to know whether Kyle actually came here or not.
She chews on the end of her pencil for a moment. “He was at least a foot taller than me, dark hair, blue eyes, and—well, I’m not sure how else to say this, but the thing that stood out the most is that he smelled expensive.”
My hands start to shake, so I stuff them into my pockets.
It’s like I can see the pieces clicking into place in her brain. The pencil in her hand drops to the desk with a clatter
“It was him. He was here. I’m so sorry. I should never have taken the flowers from him.”
“Kay, there was nothing you could have done. The best thing to do was to accept them. I’ll log them in my book and make copies for everyone who needs to know.” I sigh.
“I still wish there were something I could do.”
“You’re sweet for saying that, but all I need you to do is just keep giving me the letters or whatever it is and not give out my information.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t.” She shakes her head. “Even if I hadn’t known what’s been going on, it's an academy policy to never give out student information. That’s the first thing they go over at orientation.”
“Avery, are you ready for our—What are those?” Wesley asks.
“He came here to deliver these himself this time,” I answer.
The muscle in his jaw starts to tic.
“That’s it. We’re going to see the president again.”
“Wesley, the last time I talked with him, he told me the same thing the police did. Unless he actually does something to me, there’s nothing they can do.”
“I’m coming with you this time, and I’ll make sure they do more than just nod sympathetically,” he says darkly. “Kay, is he still in?”
“Yes, he is. Today is his late day. Would you like me to use the intercom to let him know you want to see him?”
“No, thank you. I think we’ll just pop in on him. Avery, let’s go.”
I’m too shocked to do anything other than follow him past Kay’s desk and down the hall.
Wesley shoves the door open, causing the president to drop his briefcase.
“Wesley, I was just leaving.”
“Have a seat, Tom,” he orders.
His tone is so demanding that both the president and I drop into the nearest seats. Then Wesley yanks the card out of my hand so fast it gives me a papercut and slaps it onto the desk.
“When is enough enough? At what point is the Age Gap Academy going to protect its students? That man came here himself to deliver this to her today. It was only a matter of luck that he wasn’t here at the same time she was. At what point do the students matter to you more than optics?”
“Wesley, like I told Miss Ross the last time she was here, our hands are tied.”
“We have an obligation to protect the students in these walls,” he shouts.
“I couldn’t agree more, but?—”
“But nothing. This is a private institution. You can ban him from the premises.”
“It’s not that simple,” Tom protests. “There’s paperwork and documentation involved in case he or his family try to sue the academy. I feel terrible for saying it, but this isn’t enough to hold up in court. I wish it was, but I can’t do anything but document it right now.”
Wesley drops into the chair next to me, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I understand your position, Tom, but I’m so tired of seeing stories on the news where women get attacked by stalkers or exes when all of that horror could have been avoided if people had intervened sooner. The whole reason I’m still here after Fantasy Flavors took off is because I believe you’re onto something with this method of learning. I don’t want my student or this academy to be just another story on the news.”
This conversation is just flip-flopping between idealism and hiding behind regulations—exactly what I’d expected would happen and why I didn’t want to be here in the first place.
I know Wesley means well. I know he’s worried about me, but this is making things worse for me, not better.
I clear my throat to get their attention.
“Excuse me, I have something to say.”
When they both turn to look at me, the reality of being in the academy president’s office hits me in full force.
You’ll have to say this just right. One slip-up and you’ll out your relationship to the highest authority in the academy.
My leg starts to bounce as the nervous energy zings through my body.
I focus on a point just above the president’s head so I can talk without a trace of panic in my voice.
“The first thing I want to make clear is that I didn’t have any part in coming in here. I’ve been through this before, and I understand that documentation and using official channels is important. Wesley’s barging in here was his misguided attempt to protect me. Since the letters started, I’ve been coming to class anxious and distracted. So when he saw that things had escalated, he lost his temper. Please don’t reprimand him for being a teacher who cares about the academy and its students. I’m sure he’ll cooperate with my plan.”
He raises a bushy eyebrow at me. “What plan?”
“I’ve had some time to think about it, and I think the best way forward would be to have one day of classes during the week rather than three evenings a week. Less of a chance for him to run into me here. Saturday is my day off. That would be the best time to do it. My evenings will be free to look after my son to make sure he’s safe, and the Age Gap Academy lowers its risk of an incident on campus.”
He’s silent for a moment, then says, “And you think your teachers will go for that?”
“It’s actually something I brought up to them about a week ago because they each expressed concern for me. We brainstormed a bit, and they helped me fine-tune my plan.
“I just hadn’t gotten up the nerve yet to go to the registrar and request a change of schedule. There were only five weeks left—well, four weeks now—so it didn’t seem worth it. Now, though, I’ll need to change my schedule since apparently, he’s come all the way from Vegas to harass me. Since Wesley dragged me in here, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask you about it.”
“I’m not exactly the registrar, Miss Ross.”
“But you can authorize the change as a special circumstance,” I say. “I’m sure the academy president outranks the registrar.”
He looks at Wesley. “And all of you are fine with this?”
“Jamie, Phillip, and I have been trying to get her to see the registrar ever since she floated the idea to us during class last week. We’d even had a meeting, just the three of us, to figure out how we could convince her.”
I hadn’t known that.
Tom sighs, defeated. “I suppose you have your solution, Wesley. Miss Ross, thank you for keeping a level head. I’ll see that Kay notifies the registrar of the change as soon as they come in tomorrow morning.
“Next Saturday is when you’ll start the new schedule. Perhaps during class time, you can spend a few minutes instructing your teacher on how not to lose their temper with someone who can fire them.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Once we reach the classroom, I go straight to the sink to clean out the cut on my finger.
“Wesley, can you get me a Band-Aid and a finger sleeve?”
He rushes over like a concerned mother hen. “What happened? You haven’t even touched a knife yet.”
“Paper cut.”
His face falls. “I did that when I ripped the card out of your hand, didn’t I? After all the work I’ve done, I still can’t stop hurting people when I’m angry.”
“It was an accident. It’s fine,” I say, trying to reassure him.
“I lost my temper and I hurt you. I’m no better than your ex,” Wesley says, slamming his hands on the counter.
“So you get a little careless when you lose your temper. Who cares?”
He meets my eyes with an expression that sends a chill down my spine. “You have no idea what I’m capable of when I’m angry or what I’ve done.”
For the first time ever, I think I might be a little afraid of him.