Brynne
I leaned against the desk at the front of the room, watching as student after student walked in. They looked half-dead after a long day, but we were well into our second week of school, and everything was falling into the normalcy we all knew to expect.
This was my final class, thankfully. I was ready to go home, eat a massive bowl of pasta, and read the latest smutty book Trinity picked out for book club. I just had to survive a few more hours, then I could reward myself.
The last student walked in, and my stomach twisted. Blonde hair braided to the side, eyes downcast, shoulders rounded in.
I got to my feet, nearly knocking everything off the table. Eyes shot to me, but hers never did.
“Can you close the door for me, honey?” I asked softly, trying to get her attention. But she never looked up. Everyone turned around, but still, nothing. “Scout?” She froze, her entire body locking up. Fuck . “Can you shut the door?”
She barely nodded as she spun and quietly clicked it shut. I watched as she found a seat in the back corner of the room, dropped her bag, and sank into the chair like it could swallow her, hide her from everyone looking at her.
A few boys in the front row snickered, glancing over their shoulders, and I tapped one of their tables. “Care to share?” I asked, my brow raising. The blond boy shook his head, and I smiled. “Let’s keep the jokes to after class, okay?”
He grumbled something under his breath that I chose to ignore as I moved to the smartboard.
“Today, we’re going to read some Edgar Allen Poe,” I said, using my head to point at the board. “I’m obviously a fan.” I laughed as I glanced around the room covered in ravens and quotes from Poe. A boy’s hand shot up—the boy next to the blond one. “Yes?”
“How old are you?”
The small group of boys erupted into a fit of giggles.
“I’m twenty-five,” I said. “And how old are you?”
“I’m twelve,” he said proudly. “Almost thirteen.”
“Very cool.” I scanned the class, my gaze landing on Scout. “Before we get into the poetry, I thought we could try something new.”
Grabbing the stack of notebooks, I began passing them out. “I’d like you all to use these for fifteen minutes. You can do anything. Draw, write an epic fantasy, write your feelings, your favorite movies, about what you had for lunch—anything.”
A girl’s hand went up, and I nodded toward her. “Will you read them?” she asked shyly.
“Only if you allow me to.”
“Then how will you know if we’ve written or not?” another boy asked. I shrugged as I turned toward him.
“I guess I’m choosing to trust you.”
I placed a notebook on Scout’s desk, half expecting, half hoping for her to look up at me. But she didn’t. She only sank lower, her eyes on the book.
“After we write, I’ll answer any questions you have for me, then it’s time for Poe.”
I set a timer before sitting at my desk. Everyone’s heads bowed over their notebooks—everyone except for one. Scout didn’t move. She didn’t open the book, didn’t grab a pen, didn’t even pretend like she was doing anything. She just stared blankly at the desk, her arms folded across her chest.
I wouldn’t call her out on it. But I would keep an eye on her.
The afternoon sun beat down on me as I stood behind the crowd of kids. The boys shouted and roughhoused with each other, and the girls stood clumped in small groups, shyly glancing at the boys before giggling. When they saw their parents’ cars, they broke into a full sprint, eager to go home.
I didn’t blame them—I was, too.
I ran my diamond along the chain, unable to keep myself from glancing at Scout in the back corner. She stood as far away from everyone as she could, her arms wrapped around herself.
She looked so alone . Lonely. But I didn’t know if talking to her would make it better or worse.
It seemed like all she wanted was to disappear, but maybe she just needed a friend.
I knew a middle schooler wouldn’t want to be friends with their teacher, but our relationship was unique—I was best friends with her dad’s sister.
I’d be around her outside of school, so it was important she knew we could be friends.
That she could come to me if she needed.
That I could be a safe place for her, a soft landing after a long day.
Sidling up to her, I stared out at the sea of kids rushing to cars, laughing, and jumping on each other. She pressed closer to the wall as if it could swallow her but said nothing.
“Trinity and I are going to play Dropzone tonight.” I kept my words low, my voice even. I didn’t want anyone to overhear and make fun of her. “Wanna play? We need a third.”
“I don’t have my Xbox anymore,” she mumbled.
My gaze turned to hers, and I snorted. “Your dad is mega rich. Tell him to buy you a new one.”
Her lips twisted tightly together, turning white. “He’s not my dad,” she said, huffing out the words. “He’s my sperm donor.”
My brows shot up. “Your sperm donor?”
Is that really how she felt about Theo? He could be…a lot, but from what I’d seen, he was trying—a lot more than I’d seen from other parents. Did she hate him? There was a bite of vitriol in her voice like she did. But I couldn’t understand why.
“He doesn’t know me—he still wouldn’t know I even existed if—” She roughly shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Oh.
That was why.
But she couldn’t blame him for her mother’s death, could she? It wasn’t his fault they were dealt this shitty hand.
We stood in silence for a few moments. I didn’t know what to say, so I muttered, “So, you wanna play?”
I felt her eyes on me, boring into the side of my head. But I stayed calm. I just watched the other students, my face neutral.
“Shouldn’t you tell me not to call him that or something?” she asked.
“I can’t tell you what to say or think or feel.” I shrugged. “If you think he’s nothing but your sperm donor, then who am I to tell you otherwise?”
I felt her skepticism radiating off her, but I was serious—I couldn’t force her to think or feel anything. If I did, it would only backfire. It had to be her idea to see him in a new light. How? I didn’t know.
Probably a lot of therapy—for both of them—and she had to want to change her outlook. And right now, she wasn’t ready. So I wouldn’t push.
“So, again,” I repeated, glancing at her. “Wanna play? I’ll tell Theo you need an Xbox. He’ll get you the best one?—”
“I don’t want anything from him.”
I pressed my lips together. “Alright. I have one you can use. It’s old, but it still works. Probably lags but?—”
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice wavered, and I turned toward her. She glared up at me, her chin trembling, and her eyes red. “Just leave me alone. Everyone else does.”
“We need a third person,” I said again. “And you already like the game. It’s easier than trying to find someone else or teach a newbie how to play.” I ran my diamond back and forth. “But you don’t wanna play—noted. I won’t ask again.”
It was a lie—I’d definitely ask again.
A loud rumble cut through the air, and everyone went quiet. I looked around, my gaze meeting Melonie’s from across the parking lot.
“What was that?” I mouthed, and she shrugged.
And then I saw it.
A sleek, black Aston Martin at the back of the pickup line.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said.
“Oh, my god.” Scout stepped back, positioning herself behind me. “Oh, my god .”
“Whoa!” a boy shouted, pointing at the car. “Look at that!”
“You’re kidding,” I repeated, shocked. “This has got to be a joke, because there is no way?—”
“Kill me,” Scout groaned. “Please, world, swallow me up and kill me.”
Without thinking, I shot through the crowd, dodging students and rushing between clusters of parents and kids gawking at the ridiculous James Bond car. The windows were darkly tinted, so at least no one could peer inside when Scout was driving away and see how mortified she was.
That still didn’t make this right.
I slammed my palm onto the hood of the car, and Theo jumped out. “What the hell?” He threw his arm toward me, his wide eyes on the shiny metal as if inspecting it, making sure his new baby was fine. “You can’t hit my car.”
“What is this?” I hissed, rounding the hood and pointing an accusatory finger at it. He blinked, and then an arrogant smirk spread across his face.
“What? You like it?” He leaned against the car—I could see my reflection in his sunglasses, and it was driving me insane.
“No.” It took all I had not to reach up and rip them off his face. “And your daughter doesn’t either.”
His brows tightened. “What are you talking about? She hasn’t even seen it yet.”
“Yeah, Theo. She has. She’s standing out front with every other kid in this school, all staring at this outrageously ostentatious car that does not belong in Cedar Ridge. What were you thinking?”
Anger bubbled to the surface. I thought he had changed. I thought he’d grown up. But this car just proved he hadn’t. That he was still the same selfish, self-centered Theo he’d always been and always would be.
Because if he truly cared, if he ever thought about anyone other than himself, he wouldn’t have gotten it. He would’ve understood this car was for Scout , not him.
“I needed a car,” he said slowly, as if I was dense and didn’t understand. “Why is that a problem?”
“One”—I lifted my thumb—“it’s not safe for a twelve-year-old.
Two”—I lifted my index finger—“it’s stupid .
It stands out too much. This is Cedar Ridge.
The most expensive car in this fucking town is a Tahoe, and that was a big deal when Mrs. Palmer got it.
This is going to ruin Scout. Did you even think about her? ”
“Ruin her?” He stepped forward, finally pulling the sunglasses off. “How will it ruin her? By making her popular? By giving her friends? By making her cool?”
I scoffed—there was no response for that. That logic was completely absurd.
“Do you even know your daughter?” I asked and answered the question before he could open his mouth.
“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you’d know she hates being the center of attention.
She just wants to blend in. And she’s the new kid from New York, so she’s definitely standing out.
She can’t stand having people look at her, talk to her, approach her.
And you just slapped a big, shiny, $250,000 target on her fucking back. ”
“It was only $175,000,” he mumbled.
I felt my blood pressure rise. I felt my eye twitch. I felt every neuron in my brain short circuit, because there was no way in fucking hell he just said that.
Slowly, I inhaled, forcing myself to calm down before the other Caldwell brother wound up arresting me for murdering his brother.
“You know what?” I dropped my voice and stepped closer. “Since you can afford to get this car, you can afford to deal with the shitstorm coming your way. Scout is never going to forgive you for embarrassing her.”
“Forgiveness means caring, and she doesn’t give a damn about me.”
My eyes flicked between his, my chest still heaving with angry breaths. “And getting this car certainly won’t help her care. All it did was reiterate that you only care about yourself.”
“Care about myself?” He pressed his finger into the center of his chest. “I’ve given up everything, Brynne.
My life. My house. My fucking freedom. All for what?
For some kid I don’t even know? A kid who hates me to the point of pretending like I don’t exist?
I’m trying here, but what else can I do? She—” He shut his eyes.
“You have to think of her,” I said gently. “Only her, Theo. It’s not about?—”
“I know.” He smoothed his hand over his head. “It’s not about me anymore. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last, to give me that little nugget of wisdom.”
“Maybe you should actually listen to it, then.” I scoffed, stepping away. “You ever think people keep saying that because you need to hear it? Because you keep forgetting?”
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten anything.” He laughed bitterly as he slid his sunglasses on. “Send her out, or to the car, or—or whatever.”
“Get back in your car and wait your turn, just like every other parent has to. You don’t get special treatment for being a rich douchebag.”
A muscle in his jaw feathered, and I didn’t need to see his eyes to know he was glaring at me. I didn’t need to read minds to know he was livid.
But that wasn’t my fault.
“You know what? I’ll just take her home. You can go. You’ve caused enough excitement for today.”
“She’s my kid, Brynne. I’m not going anywhere without her. So I’ll stay in line and wait, but I’m not leaving.”
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll tell her?—”
“I’m here,” Scout said, sounding choked. Her face was beet-red, her eyes watery, her chin wobbly. Shit. How much had she heard? “I just want to go home.”
I glanced over my shoulder, glaring at Theo. “You can go.”
“Thank you so much for your permission.”
He slid into the car, slamming the door behind him. Scout jolted at the sound, her breathing harsh.
“Is he okay?” she asked quietly, her voice shaky. “Is he—is he mad?”
“He’s mad at me, not you.”
She twisted her hands together. “Is he going to—will he drive fast?”
I stared at her for a heartbeat. “You don’t have to get in the car if you feel unsafe,” I said gently. “And, no, I don’t think he’ll drive recklessly. He might be an idiot, but he’s not dangerous.”
Every gear in her head was churning, trying to make a decision. She stepped toward the car, and when her fingers brushed the shiny metal handle, she froze. “I’ll ask him for an Xbox,” she said quietly, her back to me. “I’ll play with you.”
With that, she pulled the door open and slipped inside, leaving me to stare after them with a brick in my stomach and an ache in my heart.