Chapter 7 Scarlett
SCARLETT
Monday mornings usually passed in a blur of lukewarm coffee, missing mittens, and first graders coming at me with sticky hands and big feelings. But today, I walked into Mustang Mountain Elementary like I had a secret. Like I was made of sunshine and stolen kisses.
My phone buzzed in my coat pocket, and I didn’t even have to look to know who it was.
Kingston: Miss you already. Try not to break too many hearts today.
I bit back a grin and slipped my phone back in my pocket before anyone could see. He was trying. After everything we’d been through, that meant a lot.
I shrugged out of my coat, my cheeks still flushed from the cold, or maybe from the memory of Kingston’s mouth on mine.
I pressed a hand to my chest as I crossed the hallway toward the staff lounge, trying to settle the flutter in my heart before anyone could ask me why I was smiling like a woman who’d been thoroughly kissed all weekend.
Because I had been, and I wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.
As I stepped into the staff lounge, the school librarian popped the lid off a container full of homemade blueberry muffins.
“Scarlett, thank goodness,” she said, her eyes wide behind her pink-rimmed glasses. “You're the only one knows how to make real coffee, and I swear if I drink another cup of this swamp water, I’ll throw myself into a snowbank.”
“Drama queen,” my friend Luna muttered, but she smiled and held out her mug so I could fill it with the brew I brought from home.
I dropped my bag, pulled out my thermos, and started pouring. The familiar scent of cinnamon coffee wrapped around me like a soft scarf, grounding me in the rhythm of a Monday morning. I still couldn’t stop smiling.
At least, not until Madge, one of the women who’d worked in the cafeteria since way before Kingston and I started Kindergarten, looked up from where she was sitting by the bulletin board. “You haven’t checked your email yet, have you?”
My heart stuttered. “No. Why?”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Apparently, there was some kind of petition circulated over the weekend.”
I blinked. “A petition?”
The librarian groaned. “It’s about the tech center and who funded it.”
Suddenly, all the warmth in my chest went ice-cold. “Kingston.”
Luna nodded slowly, sympathy softening her features. “Word got around that it was him. One of the parents sent out an email saying she was ‘deeply concerned’ about an ex-con financing anything tied to the school.”
“Are you kidding me?” My voice came out strained.
Madge shrugged. “I wish I was. There’s a petition circulating, and it’s got a couple dozen signatures already.”
A couple dozen? My heart shrank. They were all probably parents I knew. Maybe I’d even taught their kids. Maybe even smiled at them last week while serving apple pie at Friendsgiving.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” Luna said. “Are you okay?”
No. Not even a little. Instead of being honest, I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
“It’s got to be hard to have your hometown turn against you,” Madge said. Then she turned to me. “I know you were close to him once.”
Right. Once. That word cut into me more than it should have. Like we hadn’t shared a bed. Like I hadn’t been snowed in with him, wearing his sweatshirt and kissing him like I’d been starving for the taste of him for years.
“I have to get to class,” I mumbled, abandoning my mug and grabbing my tote like it could protect me from the small-town gossip mill.
Thank goodness the hallway outside the lounge was quiet. I rushed toward my classroom, my eyes fixed forward, trying not to think about how it felt when Kingston touched me. When he whispered that he wanted another chance. When I believed him.
But now this… a petition, this pushback. It was a reminder of everything I’d spent years trying to bury. Loving Kingston Raines came with consequences. Was I ready to take that on?
I slipped into my classroom and closed the door, pressing my forehead to the cool wood. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t go shouting his story from the mountaintops. And yet… here we were.
The weekend had been full of something that felt like hope. Like we could maybe have a second shot at this thing. And now? That hope was bruised, sitting somewhere in between my ribs and twisting tighter with every breath.
Kingston had warned me. He’d said people wouldn’t understand. That he didn’t want to bring me into the fallout of his past. I hadn’t believed him. I thought this town knew better. I thought they knew him. But maybe I didn’t know them as well as I thought.
My phone buzzed in my bag. I ignored it. I needed to teach. Needed to push through the school day like I wasn’t unraveling from the inside out.
The kids shuffled in, and the first few hours passed in a blur of spelling tests, lunch orders, and the sweet chaos of six-year-olds trying to get back into the swing of things after a long weekend.
After lunch, I finally looked at my phone.
Kingston: Hey. Checking in. You okay?
I stared at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keys.
How was I supposed to answer? I wasn’t okay.
Not really. I was confused, and I was pissed…
at the town, at myself, at fate for bringing him back into my life and turning everyone against him.
But most of all, I was afraid. Because I could feel myself falling again.
And this time, if I fell, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.
Me: I’m fine. We should talk later.
The response was quick.
Kingston: I’ll be here.
Of course he would. Waiting in that cabin like he always had. Like the man I used to love still believed we had a chance.
After school, I didn’t go straight to him. Instead, I drove home. I made tea I didn’t drink and stared at the letter again. The one I’d folded and refolded so many times the creases were permanent now.
He’d given up everything for Kacen. He’d let me go without a word. He’d lived in silence and shadows so the people he loved could have a chance at light. And somehow… this town still wanted to punish him for it. It wasn’t fair. But it was real.
I didn’t want to be afraid of love again. But I didn’t know how to be brave either. Not when everyone was watching. Not when the stakes were so high. My heart pulled me in one direction. My past and my pride pulled me in another.
I needed time, a little bit of space. A breath of distance to decide whether I was ready to be the kind of woman who could stand next to a man like Kingston Raines, not in the shadows, but in the spotlight too. So I picked up my phone and called him.
“Hey,” he answered, his voice low and warm, reminding me of exactly how it had felt to be wrapped in his arms for hours while we shut out the rest of the world.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Can I come over?”
“Always.”
By the time I made it up the mountain to Kingston’s cabin, the sky was turning lavender-gray. The snow had been plowed from the road but clung to the shoulder and trees like it wasn’t ready to give up its hold yet. I wasn’t ready either.
I parked and sat for a minute, the engine ticking, my hands clutching the steering wheel tight. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back. To avoid the look I knew he’d give me. The one that said he hoped. The one that might break me.
But I didn’t come here to hope. I came to end whatever this was before we both got in too deep. The porch light flicked on before I even knocked.
He opened the door a second later, his frame filling the space like he’d been waiting there the whole time.
“Hey,” he said, his voice cautious.
“Hey.”
He stepped back, and I walked inside. The heat wrapped around me immediately, and with it, the scent of cedar, spice, and something achingly familiar… him.
I didn’t take off my coat. Just turned to face him in the entryway. “I heard what’s going on,” I said. “About the parents and the petition.”
His jaw tightened. “Yeah. Kacen called. I want you to know,” he said, his voice low, “I didn’t ask Ruby to out me. I didn’t want this to touch you.”
“But it is touching me,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “I’m the one fielding whispers in the staff lounge. I’m the one being looked at sideways. My students’ parents are calling the school asking if I’m fit to teach because of who I’m dating.”
His head jerked like I’d slapped him.
“I’m not even sure we are dating,” I added, quieter.
He ran his hand over his jaw and looked past me. “I see.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” I pulled my coat tighter. “I spent years trying to rebuild my life after you left me. I tried to heal my broken heart by throwing myself into after-school tutoring sessions and PTA bake sales. I tried to forget you.”
“I never asked you to forget me,” he said, his voice raw.
“No, but you made sure I had no choice but to try.”
Silence stretched thick between us.
“I thought we were starting something again,” he finally said. “You were here. We—hell, Scarlett, we made love.”
“Don’t,” I said, my voice catching. “Don’t say it like that.”
“But it’s true.”
“And what does that mean, exactly?” I asked, stepping closer.
“Does it mean I go to work and take the heat while you stay up here on your mountain, safe and silent? Does it mean I pretend not to care when people say my judgment is clouded? That I shouldn’t be trusted with their children because the man I’m sleeping with went to prison? ”
He winced like my words caused him physical pain. “I never wanted it to be like this.”
“But it is,” I whispered. “It’s not your fault. But it’s mine if I let this go further knowing how much it could cost me.”
He turned away, his shoulders tense. “So this is goodbye?”
Why did that word feel like it was slicing into my chest?
“No,” I said, barely able to breathe. “I need time. I need space to think. To figure out if I can be the woman who loves you out loud.”
He turned back slowly, his eyes dark with emotion. “I won’t push you,” he said. “But I need you to know I’m not running. Not again. If you come back… I’ll still be here.”
I nodded, my throat burning too much to speak.
He reached for my hand, his fingers brushing mine like a promise. Then he let go.
I stepped outside and forced myself not to look back.
The ride home was a blur. By the time I got back to town, the sun had dipped low and the temperature with it. I parked at my place, killed the engine, and sat there for a long time watching the sky fade to indigo.
Was I really going to let them decide for me? The parents. The whispers. The people who didn’t even know him? Or was I protecting myself because, deep down, I was still afraid?
I didn’t have the answers, but I was going to have to find them fast.