Chapter 3
DELANEY
The thing about pissing off the universe is that you never actually know when it’s going to strike back at you.
For me, that day is now. The first one of the brand-new school year.
My fingers slip from the corner of my desk when I push to a proper stand and force myself to smile at the first few students who come barrelling into my classroom.
The tension in my muscles causes me to stand like I have a wedgie, and that quite possibly is one of the worst looks I could have right now.
I won’t let my terrible morning snowball into a terrible day.
There are too many left in the school year to already start on the wrong foot.
Sure, yeah, I poured rotten milk into my cereal this morning and made a toaster waffle that was freezer burnt.
Then ripped the back of the skirt I’d initially squeezed myself into when I bent over to put my shoes on before quickly changing into the only clean backup I had, which is both frumpy and the colour of mustard on a hot dog bun that’s been left in the sun for hours. But who cares?
Certainly, not me.
I love dressing like someone’s grandmother on the first day of school when twenty students and a few sets of parents are going to be getting their first impressions of me.
Heat caresses my thighs as I rub my sweaty palms down my skirt, hating the way the material scratches against my skin.
It’s fine. It’s. Fine.
The little boy who comes storming my way first has the energy of someone who’s chugged a pot of coffee before leaving his house this morning. I don’t allow myself to flinch back the way I want to and instead offer my hand for him to shake.
“Hi! I’m Ms. Delaney. Or Ms. Dell, whichever you want to call me. What’s your name?”
“Zachary! My mom’s outside. Can I sit anywhere?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Zachary. Do you go by Zach for short?”
He pushes his blond hair back dramatically, grinning. “My friends call me Zach.”
“Well, I hope to be your friend by the end of the school year. For now, you can find your desk down this first row here,” I say, pointing to my left.
I was here for hours, writing out names on makeshift tags and sticking them onto the desks. If I hadn’t been moved from my original classroom, there would be no need for this quick effort because all their names would be stuck nice and pretty to their desks with custom tags.
Again, it’s fine.
“Okay!” Zachary runs down the aisle, searching for his name.
The next few students who arrive are followed by their parents, and with every hand I shake and person I greet, I pray they can’t tell how sweaty my palms are.
I glance up at the clock above the door and pluck at the top button of my blouse, debating going to the window and opening it so I can cool down.
In a town as small as Cherry Peak, the whole everyone knows everyone saying is completely true.
It’s the worst part about living here. Nearly every set of parents I speak to, I already know.
Apart from the families living in the surrounding municipalities—mainly ranches—it’s impossible to meet anyone new here.
It’s not necessary for every student’s parent to come and meet me on the first day, but plenty do regardless.
I think it gives them some peace of mind.
A reminder that the person they’re putting in charge of their children’s well-being for eight hours in the day is someone they know outside of these walls.
That’s why once I’ve checked off every student’s name but one, I feel a hot flush of anger course through me. The little girl I’ve been dreading seeing over the last week is the only one not here yet, and I know better than anyone to put that blame on her father.
If he wanted to make a fool out of me again, he didn’t have to involve his daughter. All he’d have to do is bring Sasha with him to my classroom, and if that were the case, they’d have been the first ones here. Darren’s had a habit of not watching the clock for the majority of his life.
The chatter in the room is nothing but static in my ears as I adjust the waistband of my skirt and swallow the bile clawing up my throat.
I tell myself that I’ll give them one more minute.
Anything longer than that and they’ll miss the first bell.
God, I don’t know if this is the usual for them or an anomaly.
I’ve never stayed in the hallway this late to see because I didn’t want to risk seeing them.
All I have to go on is what I knew ten years ago.
For the last eight of those years, this is how I’ve lived my life.
Never lingering anywhere, whether that’s the grocery store or the sidewalks downtown.
If there’s a chance of seeing Darren or Abbie, I’m rushing through my tasks with my head down.
I haven’t been lucky every time, but at least he seems to want to avoid me as much as I want to avoid him.
That’s the thing about heartbreak in a small town. There’s nowhere to hide from the person who broke you.
“Alright,” I start, turning to face the class. Screw Darren and his mind games. “Please make sure you’ve all found your assigned seats, and if you need any help?—”
The sound of shoes clapping against the floor in the hallway shuts me up. I snap my head in the direction of the noise.
The little girl who pops up in the doorway grins wide while trying to catch her breath. “Hi! I’m Abbie!”
It’s nearly impossible to school my features in a way that I trust hides the devastation I feel at the cheery, high-pitched voice.
I swallow, pressing a hand against my middle and hoping it looks like I’m brushing off my blouse instead of like I’m trying to hold my guts from spilling out through reopened wounds.
Abbie’s just as beautiful as she was when I saw her last. Her hazel hair is up in two braided pigtails, and her excited brown eyes .
. . I avoid looking at them for longer than a second.
There’s no backpack with her, and her pretty yellow dress isn’t smothered with a jacket, so she must have found her locker well enough.
But once I force myself to look up and behind her, it’s made clear that she’s alone.
My hand falls to my side when I force a smile. “Hi, Abbie. I’m Ms. Delaney.”
“Or Ms. Dell!” Zach shouts.
I release a breath. “Yes, or Ms. Dell.”
“I’m sorry for being late. Am I in trouble?” she asks plainly, eyes held on me.
Lifting a hand, I point at the last empty desk. Hopefully, the shakiness isn’t obvious to anyone but me. “No. No, you’re not in trouble. The bell is about to ring, though, so if you can take the empty seat behind Rosie, we’ll wait for it before taking attendance.”
When I was going through my student list, I’m ashamed to admit that I debated putting Abbie at the back of the class. It would have been completely selfish and pitiful, but for one second, I did consider it. If only to create more distance between us.
She’s not to blame for the past, though. And putting her at the back of the classroom wouldn’t do anything but punish her. That’s not who I am. Regardless of my past with her father, Abbie’s innocent.
“Thanks!” she says before scurrying into the room and slipping between the desks to the only empty one.
The bell rings while she’s sliding into her seat. I glance at the open classroom door and give it a subtle roll of my eyes. Not every parent comes to meet their child’s teacher on the first day anymore, but my gut tells me that he chose not to for a reason.
And that reason is me.
***DARREN***
Fuck.
I don’t care how long we’ve been apart; there isn’t anyone who knows Delaney Brooks the way I do. Eight years change a lot about a person, but it will never be long enough to touch the things engrained in you. And the Delaney I knew hated nothing more than being late for something.
I heard the first bell ring two minutes ago, and shit, I should not still be searching for a parking spot in this crowded lot.
Instead, I should be taking the opportunity handed to me and getting the hell away from this place.
She’s already going to be pissed at me, and interrupting her class is only going to make matters worse.
So why am I whipping into the only open spot I can see and clunking the gearshift into Park?
The silence is startling when I get out of the car and palm the door, wishing it were colder against my hot palm. I shove it closed and start toward the school .
There’s something fundamentally wrong with me. Not just mentally, but emotionally. Because there’s no reason for me to be going inside the school. Not a single one.
Delaney hates me. Rightfully so. And Abbie doesn’t need me to hold her hand with these things anymore. The last time I tried, she shook me off to appear grown-up, only to crawl into my arms afterward and tell me she still loves me because apparently, I looked that broken by it.
I can tell myself that I’m going for her and so that I can make a good impression on her teacher, but she’ll be the only one to believe that lie.
Sasha certainly won’t once she learns that Daisy’s no longer her teacher, if she doesn’t already.
Squeezing the brim of my ball cap, I walk faster across the wet pavement. I curse myself a little harder once I’ve gotten into the school and take the path I’ve had memorized since I was a student here.
Every classroom is the same, and the hallway is painted with the school colours the way they were back then, only refreshed after years of wear. You could blindfold me and I’d be able to locate each bathroom and make my way to the locker rooms.
I try to think about my time here as little as I can. Every year after I turned fifteen is splashed with the reminder of what I lost and can never get back.
With a too-familiar pang in my stomach, I head straight for Daisy’s old classroom. It was only last year that I was inside of it helping her and Bryce fix up the mess left from a bunch of shit teenagers with nothing better to do than mess with the school.
Now, I’m here for utterly selfish reasons.
The door is closed, but I can hear her voice through it.
My chest grows so tight I push at it with my palm out of fear of my lungs popping.
There’s nothing I can do to ignore the effects of that twinkling falsetto and the memories it dredges up like a net full of ghosts.
I lean a shoulder against the wall and steal a look down the hallway to make sure nobody’s watching before heaving in a breath.
Leave, Darren.
But I can’t. I want to see her. Even if it only lasts long enough for her to slam the door back in my face.
It’s been so long . . . and shit. I only need a second to confirm she actually is still in town despite never seeing her anymore. Regardless of how many corners I look around or shops I wander into with no purpose other than to see if she’s there, she never is.
There was a time when that was a relief. Back when Abbie was just a baby and my marriage was so new I couldn’t handle seeing her everywhere I turned without falling into the same pit of regret that I once let suffocate me.
I rap my knuckles against the door before I can back out.
One minute. One look. One second, even. That’s it.
Yeah fucking right.