Chapter 18 Leni
Leni
Willow meets me at the coffee shop before my creative writing lecture on Tuesday morning, and I can already tell by the massive smile on her face that she’s leaving.
“If he hurts you,” I warn as I wrap her in a giant hug while we wait in line to order our coffees, “I won’t hesitate to fly over there and kick his arse.”
“Am I crazy for doing this?” she asks as she pulls away and bites down on her bottom lip, the fear evident in her blue eyes.
“Yes,” I tell her honestly, and her face falls. Squeezing her hand, I offer her a reassuring smile. “But it’s crazy romantic, and I’m so happy for you. You deserve this, and is it wrong for me to comment on how smoking hot your stepbrother-slash-boyfriend is?”
Willow snorts a laugh then groans. “Oh my gosh, what are people going to think about him dating his frumpy stepsister?”
“First of all, you’re not frumpy. Second, who needs to know you’re his stepsister? You have different surnames. No one will even know. It’s not like George or Gwendoline will be making a big announcement. They won’t want anyone to know.”
Pink creeps over her cheeks. “I’m only going to embarrass him.”
“Willow Hepburn, listen to me when I tell you I’ve seen the way Luca looks at you, and he is far from embarrassed by you.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” an amused male voice says from behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to grin at the man in question.
“Hey, Luca,” I greet him as he steps in behind Willow, and my best friend melts into him.
“Red Devil.” His smirk grows as he arches a brow, and I roll my eyes. He turns his attention to his girlfriend. “You could never embarrass me, Angel. I’m gonna need you to stop talking like that.”
“Exactly what I said,” I point out, almost swooning when he leans down and kisses her neck.
The barista calls our names, and I leave the two lovebirds to grab our coffees.
When I return with the liquid gold, I narrow my eyes at my bestie’s boyfriend as I pass her coffee over.
“I also said that if you hurt her, I won’t hesitate to fly over to England and kick your arse, soccer boy, so you better treat her right.”
“It’s football,” he says with a roll of his eyes, but then his expression turns serious. “I won’t hurt her, Leni. I promise.”
Checking my watch, I sigh. “I’ve got to get to my creative writing lecture. When are you leaving?”
“We fly out Thursday night.”
“Good. So, I’ll see you before then?”
Willow pulls me in for a hug. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Tears sting my eyes when I realise yet another person is leaving me, but I swallow down my pain and try to be happy for my best friend. She deserves happiness, and anyone with eyes can tell she and Luca are head over heels for each other.
“You’re always welcome to visit,” Luca says with a wink. He slides his arm around Willow’s shoulder. “Come on, Angel, I promised Kincaid I’d give him some pointers before his first class.”
Willow squeezes my hand before letting Luca lead her out of the coffee shop, and I release a heavy exhale as I try to pull myself together before heading to my lecture.
My friend, Amy, waves to me when I reach the lecture hall in the arts department with five minutes to spare, and I beeline for her.
“I heard Professor Johnson is sick,” she murmurs as I drop into the seat beside her.
“So, who’s giving the lecture?” I ask, pulling out my notebook and searching my bag for a pen.
“Not sure, but I hope it’s—”
The door to the lecture theatre opens, and Amy lets out a little squeak of excitement as whispers break out around the room.
“What…” My voice trails off as I sit up, and my stomach bottoms out when I see Coach Rourke standing behind the lectern.
I never met him during the six months I was dating his son.
On the two occasions I stayed over at their house, he was away at games.
Dylan didn’t talk about his dad much, so I don’t know much about him, but I’ve somehow avoided him on campus for four years.
Luca’s soccer games don’t count, because up in the stands, I wasn’t anywhere near my ex-boyfriend’s dad.
But if Coach Rourke is taking Professor Johnson’s lectures, then what’s the bet he’s also taking—
“I’m sure by now, you’ve all realised with Professor Johnson away ill. I’ll be taking all his classes for today.”
Amy grins at me, but I’m struggling to breathe. That voice is way too familiar… only there’s no way it can be.
“Heads up, Coach.” Someone tosses a soccer ball to the front of the room, and Coach Rourke catches it with lightning-quick reflexes.
Rather than wearing a suit like most of the other professors, Coach Rourke wears tight-fitting jeans and a polo that slides up to reveal a glimpse of ink on his right side. A compass.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity, fuck.
Completely oblivious to my mini-meltdown, Amy whispers, “Ugh, he’s inked. Can he get any hotter?”
My cheeks flame, and I slouch in my seat, adjusting the beanie covering my hair and thanking the gods for the cold snap this morning. The last thing I need is to stand out with my flaming-red hair today of all days.
As Coach Roarke tries to settle the room so he can begin the lecture, I focus on getting my racing heart to return to a normal rhythm so I don’t pass out and draw even more attention to myself.
A quick glance around the lecture theatre confirms all the females in the room are staring at the attractive professor with heart eyes, while I’m wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
My mystery masked stranger is none other than my ex-boyfriend’s dad.
I slept with my ex-boyfriend’s dad.
The same ex-boyfriend who shared sexually explicit photos of me with half the year twelve class.
Coach Rourke finally begins the lecture, but I don’t pay attention to any of it.
Were there any signs that would have told me it was Dylan’s dad? Sure, their hair colour is the same, but Dylan has green eyes, not brown. Still, how could I not know, on some level, that the man I was with is related to the biggest regret of my life?
My mystery man is nothing like his narcissistic son, although how much can you really know someone in one month? Dylan was sweet and caring in the beginning as well. He showered me with love and affection and made me feel like I was special. Until that night.
I swallow the bitterness, my gaze lifting to watch the charismatic man at the front of the room.
Ethan Rourke. Is this some kind of sick joke?
How can the man who kissed me like I was reason for breathing, and looked at me like I hung the moon, be the same man who raised the arsehole who took my virginity and shattered my trust in the opposite sex completely?
The harder I try to force the memories of Friday night away, the more they assault me.
My lips tingle as I recall the bruising kisses, and a shiver runs down my spine at the way his strong, muscular hands held me tight, making me feel safe and revered.
The ghost of his warm breath on my skin causes goosebumps to erupt, and my pussy clenches when I remember how it felt to be filled by him.
The way he thickened inside me, touching places I thought were a myth.
I’m so caught up in my dirty thoughts about my ex-boyfriend’s dad that I don’t even realise the lecture is over until I hear him say my name.
“If Elena Hart is here, could she please meet me in my office in fifteen minutes?”
My head snaps up as Amy elbows me in the side. “Holy shit, girl. What did you do?”
The lecture theatre is emptying, and Coach Rourke doesn’t wait for confirmation that his message was received before packing his things and leaving with the rest of the crowd.
My stomach twists. Surely he doesn’t know who I am? There’s no way. I told him my name is Leni, not Elena. He has no way of connecting the two.
Amy clicks her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Leni.”
I blink back at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The ghost of boyfriend’s past.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, causing her to arch a brow. “I’m just… late.”
She smirks. “Late for a one-on-one with the hottest professor on campus.”
Unease settles in the pit of my stomach, but I force a smile. “That’s subjective.”
Amy snorts. “You’d have to be the only female on campus to think that.” She grabs her bag and climbs to her feet. “I’ll see you in class later. You can fill me in on what he wanted.”
Unlikely.
“Sure thing. See you later.”
She shoots me a funny look before leaving. I pack away the notebook and pen that I didn’t even use and slowly leave the lecture theatre, trying to figure out what to do. Why did he ask to see me? He’s not my normal professor. This can’t be a coincidence.
I consider calling Willow to confide in her, but she’s with Luca, and I don’t want him to know. Maybe I should just ignore Coach Roarke’s request. It’s not like they take attendance in our lectures. He has no way of knowing I heard his request.
But my burning curiosity gets the better of me, and before I know it, I’m standing outside his office.
My heart races as I knock on the closed door, and part of me hopes he’s not there. Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky, and my stomach swoops when I hear the deep timbre of his voice calling for me to come in.
I adjust my beanie, tugging it over my hair, even though I know it’s a futile attempt to hide who I am. He’s going to take one look at me and know.
When I push open the door, his familiar scent overwhelms me, and my knees almost buckle, but I straighten my spine and walk inside. He’s sitting at his desk reading something on his computer, and I hesitate before closing the door behind me.
“Elena, I presume?” he asks in a gentle tone as I turn around. When our eyes meet, the smile on his face freezes, leaving no doubt in my mind that he knows exactly who I am.
Time stands still as we stare at each other, but he manages to compose himself first. Clearing his throat, he says my name in a reverent tone that sends a shiver coursing through my body that ends in my core. “Leni.”
“Ethan.” I hate the way my voice wobbles with that one simple word.
Fire blazes in his whiskey-coloured gaze as it trails over every inch of my body before snapping to my face. “Shit,” he mutters, running his hand through his hair.
That single word is like a bucket of ice water being tipped on me. “What’s the matter, sir?” I can’t keep the snark out of my tone. “You look a little unwell.”
His face pales. “This isn’t the time for flippancy, little devil.”
My heart stutters at the slip of his pet name for me, but I shove it down. Deep down. Shrugging, I force my expression to remain neutral. “You’re the one who called me in here.”
Ethan—Coach Rourke—releases a heavy breath. “I think you should sit down.”
I glance at the couch beside me, then at the chair in front of his desk. “I think I’ll stand.”
“Please, Leni.”
The sombre note in his voice makes my chest tighten, and I sit on the couch, crossing my arms protectively over my chest.
He gets to his feet and rounds his desk to perch on the edge. “I, uh, didn’t call you in here to talk about what happened on the weekend,” he says quietly.
“I gathered that by the way your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw me standing in your office.”
The only sign of his agitation is the way his corded muscles clench as he grips the wood beneath his palms tightly, but his voice is calm when he says, “This is serious, Leni.”
Swallowing, I ask, “Why did you call me in here?”
“I need to preface this by saying I didn’t know you were in this class when I agreed to help Andy—Professor Johnson.” Coach Rourke grimaces. “I didn’t know you were a student at all.”
Biting my lip, I nod.
“This isn’t easy for me to say, especially considering what happened between us, which we also have to talk about—”
“Can you please get to the point,” I interrupt, jittery about whatever he’s about to say. “I have a class to get to.”
“Of course. Right. Well, Andy asked me to mark some assignments for him, and—”
A buzzing noise starts in my ears, and I miss whatever it is he’s saying. There’s no way he read my assignment. He can’t have read what his son did to me.
Panic grips me by the throat as I try to remember if I mentioned Dylan by name, but surely he wouldn’t be this calm if I had given anything away.
“—resources that can help, or if there’s someone you need to talk to—”
“I don’t need to talk to anyone.” I jerk to my feet.
“Leni.” The sympathy in his voice is like a hot branding iron to my chest.
“I don’t need your pity, Ethan. You were never supposed to read that.” I move towards the door, but tense when I feel his body behind me.
He doesn’t touch me, but all the oxygen is sucked from the room as I wait for him to say something.
When he finally speaks, his warm breath tickles my skin, and my heart skips a beat. “I don’t pity you, Leni. Far from it. I think you’re incredibly strong, and I only want to make sure you’re okay.”
Am I okay after what his son did to me?
I wasn’t for a long time.
But I thought I was moving on.
I was finding my strength. My power. I was taking control of what parts of my body I put out in the world.
So why did I feel the need to put what he did to me in writing?
This is definitely a cruel twist of fate that his father is the one who read it. That his father is the first person to make me feel something since his son.
Blinking back tears, I reach for the handle. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking in, Coach Rourke.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath, but I rush out of his office before I break down and tell him the truth.