17. Giselle
SEVENTEEN
GISELLE
Life in the Fast Lane
If someone had asked me how my Friday night would go, I would have said something along the lines of getting back to my regular lesson plans as well as writing a letter of recommendation for the sub who’d stood in for me.
It wasn’t easy to come in so close to evaluations and then the holiday break, let alone for five full days, but they’d really hit it out of the park.
Granted, it was a bit easier than when I was a student, as my packets for the week had already been prepared online and I was able to check them myself in the system and grade them during my week of rest at home—I would have gone stir-crazy without them.
But still, even with all of that going for them, a sub’s job wasn’t easy.
Maybe I should get them a flower basket?
The principal had sent me an email while I was out to let me know about the sub, but the only information I had was their name.
Max Smith. No indication of gender, preferences, or even allergies.
Maybe I could ask the kids? Or the school nurse? Oh wait! Mademoiselle Delgato would know. She knew everything.
Except maybe about shifters.
...unless?
I chuckled and shook my head. I was supposed to be concentrating on the show Ben and I were watching. Luckily, it was a comedy game show where the rules were different every episode, so my laugh wasn’t out of place.
It surprised me that my mind could drift at all, because I was acutely aware of the situation.
When I’d called Ben, I assumed he would either want to meet in a neutral location or have me come over while his kids were asleep. But no, he’d asked me to dinner. With his family.
I would be lying my flat ass off if I didn’t admit that I had more fun hanging out with his kids than I had any right to.
Normally, I needed to decompress after being around children all day, but Veronica was cute as a button and Benny?
He was always a gem and had literally saved my life, but there was something so unfettered about him in his own home.
I hadn’t realized that he was holding his personality back in school, but seeing him in his natural habitat, where he didn’t have to worry about keeping secrets, showed me there was still so much about students I would never be aware of.
Funny how a six-year-old had taught me something so incredibly important.
“I’m going to go get that plate we talked about earlier. Do you want me to put your ice cream back in the freezer to firm up a little?” Ben said, smiling at me with a cheeky grin that was so different from how he’d looked twenty minutes earlier.
After the panic attack and a few other glitches on our date, I’d known talking about Melton might trigger another one. But I hadn’t expected him to lock up like that. One moment he was there, and the next he was gone.
Luckily, he’d been ambulatory. I’d looped his arm through and led him to the couch. He’d sat down, then I’d started bundling him up in all the soft things I could find.
I’d been a little worried that he’d get overheated, but since he was still cocooned in the blankets, I knew I’d made him a comfy nest.
Good. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around how such a kind, charming guy was struggling with self-loathing. I understood that he’d gone through something truly devastating that I’d never understand, but surely he knew it wasn’t his fault... right?
It was Charles’s fault. All of it. Poor, awful, wounded, insidious Charles. Some small part of my heart pitied him because I knew abused kids so often went on to perpetuate that cycle, but most of me hated him for choosing the wrong path. He’d had a choice. He’d made the wrong one.
And he’d lost his life for it.
It didn’t seem like enough. I wasn’t a violent person, and I got the impression that his end hadn’t been a demure event at Ben’s hands, but there was still so much hurt, it felt like Charles had gotten off easy.
“Giselle?”
Goodness, I was being a bit like Ben, drifting off in mid-conversation like that. I guessed I was a bit in my head, too.
“No, no, that’s all right,” I said, somewhat sheepishly. “I kind of like it when ice cream gets to this texture where it’s not hard, but not soup either. Just kinda soft.”
My siblings still teased me about it. While I wasn’t as sensitive to texture as Nox, I had certain quirks about the things I put in my mouth, and ice cream was one of them.
Another was putting peanut butter and honey sandwiches in the freezer just long enough for the honey to start crystallizing. Oh, and only creamy peanut butter, of course.
I wasn’t a savage .
“You know, Natalie’s the same way.”
A tiny spike of jealousy shot through me, and I pushed it far, far, far down.
Natalie was part of Ben’s support system, and I had no reason to feel that way.
I could have my moments of silliness and romanticism, but there were some things where I had to put my metaphorical foot down, and that was one of them.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
I shook my head, keeping myself from saying anything stupid by taking a big gulp of my Ensure, which was not one of the flavors that disgusted me.
When I got home after the whole Melton situation, Simon surprised me with several cases of different flavors, none of which were vanilla, strawberry, or chocolate.
He really was a sweetheart.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” I managed once I swallowed. God, what was it about Ben Poynter that made me feel like I was a young girl in college again, full of dreams and energy and much less achy knees?
I listened as he did as he said, still marveling that I’d ended up watching TV with Ben and eating ice cream. Anyone looking in from the outside would no doubt think we were a couple enjoying a night in.
Except we weren’t.
I could tell there were a lot of things holding him back. As much as I would love to be in my own Hallmark movie, Ben wasn’t just a deeply hurt man, he was a wolf.
But he was so gorgeous. Those kind eyes, impossibly thick eyelashes, the intense cut of his chin, those broad shoulders and chiseled chest. His eyes lit up whenever he talked about his son, and he always beamed when he was proud of Benny.
Yeah, so maybe I had a crush. Was that so wrong? It wasn’t like I expected anything to happen. It was just nice to have one. Like a return to normalcy that I’d long forgotten.
“I got you a bottle of water in case you wanted to wash all the sweet down,” Ben said, startling me a bit. Man, for being so big, he sure could move quietly. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the jump.”
“It’s okay,” I said, laughing nervously. Damn, why couldn’t I be my normal, confident self around him? Oh right, it was because he was perfect in so many ways outside of his wounds, and I was... well, I wasn’t.
He deserved the best. Some educated and kind, fit woman with curves and long, flowing hair. One who could shift and run with him into the forest or help him with both of his kids once they got their animal forms.
Someone who wasn’t me.
“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Ben asked as he sat down. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Uh, why do you ask?”
He tapped the side of his nose. “Sorry if it’s a bit invasive, but sometimes I can smell spikes in your scent that mean different things or hear your heartbeat picking up. I don’t do it intentionally, but it is a way that shifters communicate.”
Ah.
Of course.
Once again, I found myself blushing furiously. I probably should have put that together on my own, but the idea that he could track my emotions through my smell made me feel a bit self-conscious.
And that was exactly why he deserved some lovely lady shifter to sweep him off his feet. Not a semi-disabled elementary school teacher who barely had her head on straight.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Jeez, I wished that I could be smooth all the time.
“Uh, yeah, just processing what you said. My, uh, my perfume isn’t too much, is it?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but then he swallowed it down and shook his head.
“No, it’s fine. Everything you wear is... fine.”
Ah, what every woman wanted to be called. Fine. Granted, that was the kind of thing I was supposed to be called as a... a...
What was I?
Were we friends? I liked to think I was at least that, but really, this was only the fourth time we’d been in each other’s company, and tonight had been based around explaining Melton’s story.
The time before that, Melton had kidnapped me and stolen Ben’s car.
Not exactly normal circumstances for a connection.
But I did feel a connection. I couldn’t be imagining that, could I?
“Okay, I’m glad,” I said.
Could he smell that my pride was smarting a bit?
Ugh, I was getting too far into my head. We were having fun, so why ruin that? I’d lost too many beautiful times to anxiety, fear, and terror. I was making it a point not to do that anymore.
Because if there was one thing I’d learned from getting to know Ben and his beautiful family, it was that even though losing my mother hadn’t been easy at all, things could always be much, much worse. It wasn’t the suffering Olympics, of course, but it certainly did help me with perspective.
“Do you want to start the next episode?” I asked.
“Sure, if you’re liking it?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah! I can’t believe I had no idea of this entire streaming service. It seems really wholesome.”
“It is. You know, they’re so fair with their practices and payment of their day-rate workers that SAG-AFTRA gave them permission to keep going during the writer’s strike, but they chose not to out of solidarity.”
I let out a quiet whistle. “I’m definitely gonna have to subscribe.” And I meant it. As an educator, I had a deep admiration for anyone who went on strike for their rights. We teachers had to have plenty of our own in the past decade. And probably more to come with how the economy was going.