9. Blake
9
BLAKE
W hy? Why would Zach be at the school?
And right when George had to go to the office?
I groaned as I turned into a spot. Whines squealed louder as I put all my effort into turning the steering wheel to manage the maneuver. The power steering pump had to be repaired, but I was really hoping I could stall on that until after Christmas. “Please,” I whispered, begging the van to stick with me. “I’ll fix you. I promise. Just not yet, okay?”
Instead of worrying what it had to mean to talk to a vehicle like it was a sentient thing, I hurried into the school. Sara had to have seen me in the security camera because when I reached the doors, I waved and heard a click of the locks opening.
Once I got in, though, blasted in the face by the heated air forced through the vents at the entrance, I halted mid-step.
Reagan exited the office right then, and as she spotted me hurrying in, letting a noticeable draft in with me as I opened the doors, she narrowed her eyes and stalked over.
“This is getting old,” she snarled.
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed hotly.
“You have no idea how furious I am.” She flung her arms out. “I was just going about my business at the office, like usual, and then lo and behold, another call came in from the school. I am sick and tired of this. Another incident of your son causing trouble in the classroom.”
I shook my head, tired of this shit but not in the mood to let her get away with that lie. “George isn’t at fault.” I didn’t know the details of whatever happened this time, but I knew that my son wouldn’t have started it.
She smirked, donning a really nasty expression as she stalked over. “Listen, Blake. I’ve got an important job. I do important work and make a difference in people’s lives.”
I stood still and set my hands on my hips, daring her to insinuate any more insults about me. Like I didn’t matter. That her time was valuable while mine wasn’t.
“I have a career, Blake. Not everyone can have stupid jobs like yours and take off whenever they want to. I can’t be inconveniently stopped and pulled out of the office every time George wants to cry like a baby or throw a fit.”
“He doesn’t cry,” I snarled, pointing at her face. “And he’s not throwing a fit.” I stabbed my finger at her chest hard enough to make her step back a foot. Her perfectly styled blonde waves flung off her shoulder as she windmilled her arms for balance.
“How dare you?—”
“How dare you ,” I shot back. Getting into her face, I let her see the full hit of wrath from my slitted eyes. “Fuck off, Reagan. And stop trying to make my life hell.”
Someone coughed nearby, and I immediately checked myself.
Oh, fuck. Shit. Fucking shit! My cheeks warmed up in an instant blush as humiliation swarmed through me, making my heart race. Blushing was my biggest flaw, and it wasn’t a shocker that I was turning red now. Embarrassed that someone had heard me talk back to Reagan like that, I held my breath and mentally cringed.
This wasn’t who I was. I didn’t fight. I was allergic to confrontations. Flustered and angry just wasn’t a good look on me, and I regretted that I’d lost my temper in those few seconds of telling her off.
The sensation of humiliation only deepened when I turned to see who’d overheard that little exchange.
Zach.
The one and only Zach West had been coming out of the office, and with his slowed pace, walking without a rush, he had to have seen and heard it all.
I was normally nicer than this, a pushover, like his younger sister claimed.
“I…” I shook my head, retreating from Reagan as if more distance between us could diffuse the dizzying mix of anger and embarrassment.
Seeing him here, and knowing he’d spotted my son, threw me off.
I couldn’t handle this. Not like this and not right now. I was only here to get my son and deal with whatever the hell happened this time.
This was not the moment to tell Zach I was a mother or confirm that George was his son. It wasn’t a time to share any information like that, but it also was the most inopportune occasion to go off on Reagan and let my anger get the best of me.
“I’ve got to go,” I muttered, unable to maintain this lock on his deep blue eyes.
“Blake,” he started, aiming to approach me.
But Reagan was faster, cutting him off from reaching me to hug him with effusive excitement. “Zach! Hi!” She giggled, putting on a show, and I brushed past their little reunion. Or, I supposed it was take two of their reunion. She’d been clinging to him and hanging off him at Coach Parker’s party as well.
I’ll… just let you two have your moment…
Without a look back, I finished the trek to the office and pushed the door open too roughly. It swung, and I squeaked with remorse as I hustled forward to prevent it from smacking into anything or leaving a mark on the wall.
“Hey,” Sara greeted, eyes wide at how I’d burst into the office. “George is in his classroom.” With the landline phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, her fingers tapping on the keyboard, she seemed to be multitasking.
I nodded and hurried out to get him from his classroom, detouring a long way to avoid the Reagan and Zach show near the front doors.
The final bell rang for the day, and I sighed with relief when George saw me and ran into my open arms.
“Hi, Mama. What are you doing here?” He grinned up at me as I escorted him down the hall as students prepared to exit in a noisy mass. “Did Principal Cole call you? I thought he might not have to this time.”
I sighed, not in the mood to explain it all. I was just glad I had my boy with me, and as we exited, I kept an eye out for his father.
One he’d never met.
And if I had any say in it, he never would, either.