Chapter 4
DELANEY
“Okay, we’re going to start with attendance, and then I’d love to get to know all of you a little bit if that’s alright?” I ask once the final bell finishes ringing.
For a group of seven- to eight-year-olds, they’re incredibly tuned in to me so far.
Maybe it’s just first-day magic, or maybe I got lucky and a well-behaved class is my reward for being swapped so last minute.
Either way, I’m going to take advantage of their attention for as long as they offer it to me.
I don’t remember the last time that I didn’t have to use one of many attention-grabbing exercises to get through a morning attendance. It’s a relief and maybe even a sign that this could be my best year yet. If I haven’t just jinxed it, of course.
The list of student names rests on my desk as I stare down at the first one and clear my throat.
Despite feeling excited about being gifted a potentially well-behaved class, I can’t pretend that it’s going to be all that easy getting through this year.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t move out of Cherry Peak when I had the chance, back before I had integrated my adult life here, but the universe has a funny way of giving me something good with a side of struggle.
It would have been so easy to stay away, but . . .
“Abbie,” I call out.
The little girl with her daddy’s brown eyes shoots her arm into the air and wiggles her fingers in response. Her toothy grin is a dulled blade digging into my spine. My next breath sears my throat.
Still, I carry on down the list. Each name I read burns a little less.
I get halfway through the list when three knocks against my classroom door make me jump. My knee bangs against the corner of my desk before I hop up and swallow a curse.
“Give me one second and we’ll continue with attendance,” I say through a wince.
I toss an easy glance at the class and half stroll, half limp to the door. There’s a tall shadow behind the glazed window in the door that causes a cool dread to pool in my belly. It doesn’t take seeing the face of the person on the other side to know who it is.
I know better than anyone what being close to Darren feels like, and right now, the weird clunking sensation in my chest is exactly that. Because if there’s one thing Darren Huntsly always succeeds at, it’s twisting me up so tightly that it takes weeks, sometimes years, for the knots to unravel.
Back when we were teenagers, I didn’t bother untying them. The constant tug and pinch of them felt like a reminder of us. Of what we were and the life we promised each other we’d have. But now? They ache with a ferocity that terrifies me after how long we’ve been apart.
Suddenly, I hate him again.
It takes everything in me to haul the door open and bring myself within arm’s length of him.
There’s nowhere near enough space between us.
I’m throttled with the need to create more, but I can’t get myself to move back.
As easy as blinking, I grow lost in his closeness and the scent of familiar cologne.
Memories spear into my mind, but I shove up my walls, refusing to replay them right now.
I stare at the mustache that now lives above his top lip instead of the eyes that I know are the same exact shade as melted milk chocolate.
It’s criminally attractive yet not at all what I expected to see from the man who used to shave his face every single morning because he hated the scratchy feeling of stubble on his jaw.
Darren parts his lips, and I ignore the soft pink shade of them before looking at the curling hair behind the ear with the closed, empty piercing in its lobe.
The dark curls are the longest I’ve ever seen them, and I know that if he took off the ratty old baseball cap flattening them, they’d be messy too.
His skin is still smooth and clear, and his eyebrows are large and a tad bushy without being too much for his face.
The Steele Ranch–branded cap he’s wearing is one I’ve seen a million times, but I know it isn’t the same one he wore when we were teenagers.
It’s missing the bleaching on the left side of the brown brim from when he left it out in the sun for the entire month of July.
By the time he speaks, I’ve latched my gaze onto his chin and offered him a sickly fake smile that even a stranger wouldn’t believe to be real.
“Hi.”
“Hi. What do you need?”
A heavy, tense pause. “The parking lot is full.”
“Okay. Is this about Abbie?”
Those peachy lips stay parted, but no words escape them. With every second we spend in this awkward, strained silence, the more tense I get. I’m glad I didn’t open the window now because one strong breeze is all it would take to have me barrelling over.
Darren clears his throat not once, not twice, but three times before finally speaking.
“Yeah. She won’t be late again. It was my fault.”
My eyes move upward without my consent, greedy to get their first look at him in months. The heat of that first glance knocks the breath out of me, leaving me gasping to replenish my empty lungs.
“Right,” I push out, gripping my hip to keep my hand busy. “An in-person apology wasn’t necessary. You’re not my student, and Abbie wasn’t too late.”
His eyes may still be that rich chocolate brown, but that’s where the similarities end. I fell in love watching the dreams trapped within them dance, and as I focus on them now, I can’t find a single one left.
Has he achieved them all? Or simply given up on them? I shouldn’t care to know which option is the right one.
“I know. I just want Abbie to have a good first day. It’s already awkward with you?—”
I step outside the room and pull the door closed behind me before the kids can pick up on anything we’re saying. Lifting my hand, I cut him off. “I don’t let outside regrets dictate what I do inside my classroom. Your daughter is not going to bear the weight of what happened with us.”
His flinch is obvious, my choice of words striking true. I swallow the apology that slithers up my throat before it can escape.
“Right. Great, then,” he says, nodding as his back foot moves.
“If that was all you wanted, I have to finish attendance.”
“Yeah, that’s all.”
I tip my chin. “Have a great day, then.”
His nostrils flare as he takes a full step back and then stops, palming the wall of the little alcove we’re in. I freeze, trapped beneath the weight of his sharp gaze. He taps his fingers against the cement wall, and I can’t help but steal a look at the one that used to wear a simple gold band.
Emotion burns the backs of my eyes. I release a tight breath and meet his stare again.
“Do you still live in town?” he blurts.
My brain runs a mile a minute, trying to make sense of that question. Not only is it inappropriate for this setting, but it’s not his place to ask at all, regardless of where we are.
I tighten my hold on the doorknob, reassuring myself of the escape route. “That isn’t any of your business.”
“Fuck if it isn’t, Elle. You’re a ghost in this town.”
“My name is Delaney, Darren. Not Elle,” I hiss, the air growing too thin.
He leans forward, the brim of his cap shading the bottom half of his face. “You’ll always be Elle to me.”
“It’s a good thing I’m nothing to you anymore, then.
Me being your daughter’s teacher doesn’t change that.
Nothing will. So, you can leave now. If you need to speak with me again, you can send an email or call the front office and leave a message.
You can find all of that information in the welcome package that will be in Abbie’s backpack this afternoon. ”
I’m proud that my voice doesn’t crack the way my chest is.
Darren’s muscles coil like he’s preparing to move closer to me, but I step back before he can, shaking my head. It’s like he came here planning to confuse me. Maybe even confuse himself, too, if his pained expression is anything to go by.
“Hold on, Delaney. I want to be cordial, at least. We can’t ignore each other forever.”
“Is that what we’ve been doing? Ignoring each other?” I ask, huffing in disbelief at his gall.
So what if I’ve been ignoring him? What else did he expect?
“Yeah, I’d say so. The last time I saw you was Bryce’s opening night at Into The Shade.”
I look past him at the empty hall before replying, “This isn’t the time to be talking about anything other than your daughter’s education.”
“So meet me another time to talk about something other than that.”
“No. No, I won’t meet you another time . You need to leave now,” I say, pushing the last sentence out a bit harder as I try and wrap my head around that .
Bryce’s opening at the tattoo studio was like .
. . eight months ago. My relationship with Daisy had me unable to turn her invitation down the way I wanted to when it was first brought up.
The group of women in their circle have been too welcoming for me to reject such an important moment. Especially because of Darren.
Poppy might be his sister, but she was good to me before we broke up, and now, she’s back in my life. Even if she kept her distance from me the same way I did her brother for far too many years.
Him bringing that day up now, as if he has any damn right to, isn’t helping his case in the slightest.
“At least think about it,” he pleads.
“I don’t need to. It won’t be happening. And even if it were, the moment we’re spotted in public together, it will be Sasha standing in front of me right here. I won’t be the subject of her abuse again.”
He sucks in a breath before ripping his hat off and threading fingers through his hair. The dark locks gleam, healthy and thick, before they’re trapped beneath the cap again.
“She has no say in who I speak with,” he argues tensely.
I roll my lips and push the door open behind me just a crack. “Have a great day, Mr. Huntsly. I’m very excited to get to teach Abbie this year.”
“Delaney,” he tries a final time.
“Hopefully, she enjoys her time in my class.”
Turning around, I give him my back and lift my chin. When I step back into the classroom, my smile is not only faker than before, but the pain in my chest is ten times stronger.
I’m not certain of many things, but one thing I’ll never be able to question is whether it’ll get easier to see Darren. If time has proven anything, it’s that no, if anything, it’ll get harder.