Chapter 8 Stella
EIGHT
STELLA
The next morning, we wake before sunrise.
Jack is already dressed—dark jeans, dark shirt, boots, hair damp like he showered and came out sharper than ever. I’m in my teacher uniform—cute blouse, sensible pants, flats, hair wrangled into a ponytail that I pretend is intentional.
The drive into town is quiet.
Jack watches the road like it owes him money. He takes different turns than I would. He checks mirrors. He doesn’t let us sit at stop signs too long.
My hands twist in my lap.
“Breathe,” he murmurs without looking at me.
I inhale shakily. “I am breathing.”
“Not enough,” he says.
I glare at him. “You’re bossy.”
“Yes,” he agrees, like it’s a compliment.
We pull into the school parking lot before the first bell. The building looks normal—bright murals, little flags, the smell of cafeteria pancakes drifting through the early air.
And yet my stomach is in knots.
Jack parks in a spot with a clear view of the entrance.
“I can do this,” I whisper.
Jack’s gaze flicks to me. “I know.”
He gets out first, scans, then opens my door.
“Please don’t do that,” I mutter.
“Do what?”
“The… opening-my-door thing.”
Jack’s eyes narrow. “Why.”
“Because it makes me feel like…” I struggle for words. “…like I’m someone important.”
Jack’s voice drops. “You are.”
My chest tightens.
I climb out without arguing, and he follows me toward the building at a pace that matches mine perfectly—always close enough I can feel him, never so close it looks inappropriate.
The minute we step into the hallway, every adult within ten feet notices him.
Because it’s Jack.
Tall. Broad. Dangerous. The kind of man who makes principals straighten their posture out of sheer instinct.
Mrs. Hanover spots him and freezes mid-step.
Oh no.
“Stella?” she calls, eyes darting between me and Jack. “Who is that?”
I paste on my brightest smile. “This is Jack. He’s… a friend of Wyatt’s. He’s helping with safety.”
Jack gives Mrs. Hanover a polite nod that somehow looks like a warning. “Ma’am.”
Mrs. Hanover blinks like she just got addressed by a very handsome grizzly bear. “Safety… yes. Great. Wonderful. We love safety.”
I shoot her a look that says don’t ask questions now, and she wisely retreats.
As I head to my classroom, Jack stays with me—standing just outside the door while I set out worksheets and crayons and try to pretend this is normal.
The kids start arriving in a rush of backpacks and squeaky shoes.
The second they see Jack, the room goes quiet for approximately three seconds.
That’s a kindergarten record.
Then Levi points at him. “WHO IS THAT?”
Jack’s gaze flicks to me like he’s bracing for impact.
I whisper, “Welcome to my world.”
I face the class. “Everyone, this is Mr. Sinclair. He’s here today to help keep our school safe.”
A tiny hand shoots up immediately. “Is he a police?”
Jack’s jaw tightens. I jump in. “He works in security.”
Levi’s eyes go wide. “Like a ninja?”
Jack’s mouth twitches. Barely. “Something like that.”
The kids gasp like he just confirmed he’s Batman.
Another kid raises a hand. “Does he have a gun?”
My heart stops.
Jack doesn’t flinch. He keeps his voice calm. “No.”
I exhale.
Levi leans forward on his knees. “Can you teach us karate?”
Jack’s eyes flick to mine again—permission. A question.
I should say no.
But I can already see it—the way the kids are fascinated, the way Jack is a giant distraction that could become… something comforting. Something empowering.
Also, it’s adorable.
I sigh. “Okay. Maybe at recess. Just… very safe moves.”
Jack nods once. “Very safe.”
The day begins, and for the first hour I manage to teach like normal. We do letter sounds. We do a matching game. We talk about how kindness is a choice.
Jack stays in the back of the room. Every so often he shifts position, scanning. Checking corners. Watching the entrance. A living, breathing barrier.
It should make me feel embarrassed.
Instead, it makes me feel… steadier.
Then I notice him watching one particular kid as the class settles into independent work.
A boy in the back corner. Small. Quiet. Hoodie pulled up even though it’s not cold. He’s not coloring. Not talking. He’s hunched over his desk like he’s trying to disappear.
My chest tightens.
Evan.
This kid is silence.
I walk over slowly and crouch beside him. “Hey, buddy,” I say softly. “How’s your morning?”
He doesn’t look up.
“Evan,” I say softly. “Do you want to draw with us? Or do you need a minute?”
His fingers tighten around his crayon like it’s the only thing anchoring him.
I don’t push.
I just sit beside him for a moment, letting the silence be safe instead of scary.
After a beat, he whispers so quietly I almost don’t hear it. “Can I… go to the bathroom?”
“Of course,” I say immediately. “Do you want me to walk with you?”
He shakes his head.
I glance toward the door.
Jack is already moving—stepping closer, position shifting.
He catches my eye.
I tilt my chin slightly toward Evan.
Jack nods once.
Evan slips out of his seat and walks toward the door, head down. Jack steps aside to let him pass—never touching him, never crowding him, just… existing as a calm presence in the hallway.
A minute later, Evan returns, and Jack follows behind at a distance like a shadow that keeps kids safe without making them feel hunted.
When Evan sits again, his shoulders are a fraction less tense.
My throat tightens.
Jack notices everything.
At recess, the kids swarm Jack like he’s a celebrity.
“Mr. Sinclair! Mr. Sinclair! SHOW US NINJA!”
Jack looks like he wants to flee into the desert.
I step beside him, grinning. “Congratulations. You’re famous.”
Jack’s eyes flick to mine, helpless. “Help me.”
“Oh no,” I say sweetly. “This is your life now.”
Levi bounces in front of him. “TEACH US MOVES!”
Jack glances around the playground—assessing the space like it’s a tactical zone. Then he nods once, resigned. “Alright,” he says, voice calm. “Basic stuff. Only for getting away. Not for fighting.”
The kids gasp like he just offered them secret spy training.
Jack demonstrates simple, safe moves—how to pull your wrist away if someone grabs you, how to step back and run, how to use your voice loud.
“First thing,” he tells them. “You yell.”
The kids immediately start yelling.
I clap a hand over my mouth to hide my laugh. Teachers across the playground look over like what is happening.
Jack’s mouth twitches—almost amused.
“Louder,” he instructs.
The kids scream like tiny banshees.
Okay, maybe this is slightly unhinged.
But their faces are bright. They’re empowered. They’re thrilled.
And Jack… Jack looks alive in a way he didn’t last night. Like he forgot, for a second, that the world is dangerous.
I walk over and crouch beside Evan. “Do you want to try yelling?” I ask softly.
Evan shakes his head, but his eyes are on Jack.
Jack catches the movement and looks over—his gaze landing on Evan, something shifting in his expression. Not cold. Not hard.
Soft.
He walks over slowly and crouches too, bringing himself down to Evan’s level like he understands the way big bodies can feel intimidating to small ones.
“Hey,” Jack says quietly. “You don’t have to do the moves.”
Evan’s eyes flick up briefly, then down again.
Jack keeps his voice gentle. “But you can listen. That’s still learning.”
Evan gives the tiniest nod.
Jack glances at me for half a second like he’s checking—am I doing it right?—then looks back at Evan. “If you ever feel scared,” he says, calm and steady, “you find a grown-up. You use your voice. And if you can… you run toward a safe place.”
Evan whispers, “Okay.”
My throat tightens.
Jack stands, giving Evan space, and returns to the swarm of kids like nothing happened.
I stay crouched beside Evan for a moment, heart aching.
“What’s going on with you, little guy?” I whisper to myself.
And why does it feel like he’s not the only one in this town trying to disappear?
I stand and look toward Jack.
He’s laughing—actually laughing—as Levi dramatically demonstrates a “ninja escape” that’s mostly jazz hands and enthusiasm.
Jack catches my gaze.
For a beat, everything else fades.
His eyes are warm, but there’s still that fierce edge underneath—like no matter how sweet this moment is, he’s still watching for danger.
Still protecting.
Still mine in a way that makes my heart do reckless things.
I swallow, forcing my smile to stay steady.
I can be brave.
I can keep teaching.
I can keep pretending my world isn’t shifting under my feet.
But as the day goes on and Jack never strays far, the question keeps pulsing in my mind like a bruise I can’t stop touching:
Why me?
And what happens if we find out the answer… and it’s worse than I can imagine?