Chapter 1
If he smells like fabric softener, he’s in a relationship.
— Brecken’s secret thoughts
brECKEN
One month ago
“Hey, Ms. S!” A kid from the band came running in. “Watch!”
I grinned when I saw one of my favorite band students, Casey.
Casey was a senior this year, and I was sad to see him go at the end of the year.
I had five more months with him until he graduated in May and I was so incredibly sad.
He’d asked me if I had a funny prank that the seniors could pull on the school, and I’d told him about one I’d seen on social media a few weeks ago that included the band following the principal around everywhere he went for the day.
They were supposed to start over an hour ago, but the practice for band had gone long, and the teacher had been reluctant to let them go to make a ruckus with the school. When I’d promised the assistant band director that I’d be responsible for them, she’d reluctantly allowed them free rein.
Which obviously led to now.
I was in the break room laminating some work pages that I wanted to do next week, and definitely not watching the band like I probably should’ve been.
“Hey Coach!” I chirped. “Come in here. I forgot my phone in my classroom, so you’ll have to share yours.”
“What are we watching?” Coach Shepherd asked.
Coach Shepherd was the newest football coach for West Dallas High School. He was cute, perpetually smiling, and way too young to be the head football coach. But he knew the right people, and since our old head football coach had been caught in a scandal with a student, they’d needed a replacement fast.
In came Coach Shepherd with the ink barely dry on his college degree and his history of being a star quarterback for A&M University.
I had a feeling that he was scared, but I knew he’d make it. He had the drive.
He wanted to be there.
He also knew his stuff.
“Senior prank,” I said. “The marching band is going to follow the principal around today.”
“Oh, nice,” Shepherd said. “Our school prank was putting the principal’s car onto the roof of the gym.”
“How’d you get it up there?” Casey’s eyes widened.
“One of the seniors had a dad that owned a crane company,” he said. “Where are you live from?”
“The band’s social media page,” Casey answered, moving in closer to me to show me his phone.
Shepherd pulled his up, too, and he grinned when he saw all the comments start rolling through.
“This page is popular,” he mused.
“West Dallas won the Marching Band Invitational last year,” Casey explained. “Bands are pretty big down here. Not as big as football, of course, but big enough that…”
He kept talking, but I focused on the screen.
I watched the band stomp toward the building that housed the principals and secretaries.
Though, likely the secretaries were out to lunch.
The vice principal usually lunched off campus with her husband who worked in construction down the road, meaning no one but my fiancé would be inside.
Which was exactly how I wanted it.
I couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
He loved senior pranks.
They were some of his favorite things.
Rupert loved his seniors.
He loved even more that they were going out and doing something with themselves.
That was why I’d first fallen in love with him—his love for his students.
When I’d first met Rupert, he was the lead history teacher—now I was since he’d taken the principal position. When the position of principal had come available, I’d encouraged him to take the job. And he’d thrived.
It’d been three years since he’d done it, and each year I loved watching him build a rapport with his students.
“Ohh.” Casey all but jumped. “Cal’s got the door.”
“It’s locked,” Cal whispered.
Someone passed up the key I’d given them this morning and Cal quietly unlocked the door.
Rupert always did lunch in his office while he went over the upcoming week’s events.
I’d tried to join him a few times, but he’d said that he needed that time to himself to figure out his next steps.
I’d given it to him, and respected his time, and usually caught lunch in the teacher’s lounge and watched an episode of a crime documentary.
The doorknob turned, and Cal shoved the key into his pocket.
Seconds later, he held up his hands and counted down.
Three.
Two.
One.
The door opened.
The band started playing “We Will Rock You.”
Rupert startled from his standing position in front of his desk and turned.
The first thing I saw was a pair of spread legs on the desk in front of him, with a very up close and personal view of a vagina.
The next I saw was Rupert’s cock.
The band’s notes died.
The woman on the desk sat forward.
And my heart sank.
Jolessa, my best friend, squeaked and covered herself with the only thing she could find—a photo of me and Rupert that we’d taken at the beach this summer.
The trumpet made a comical downward musical note, and then everyone stared in stunned silence, unsure what to do.
My stomach sank to the floor, and the diamond engagement ring on my finger felt like it was made of lead as it pulled my hand down to rest against my thigh.
“Holy shit,” Coach Shepherd said. “You should probably cut the feed.”
“Oh, sure…” Casey said. “But I don’t have the ability to access the page. Only Ms. Goodman has control over it besides Cal. And Cal’s lookin’ kind of horrified. I doubt he even remembers he’s recording.”
“Holy fuck,” Coach Shepherd groaned. “Look at the number of watchers right now.”
I did, seeing that there were forty-eight thousand watchers.
It was understandable, really, because West Dallas had done so well at that tournament that they’d then gone on to Good Morning America , and several other daytime television news programs. They’d garnered quite the following.
“Oh, my god,” Casey breathed. “Look, it just keeps going up!”
I swallowed hard as I watched it reach eighty thousand viewers.
“I’m just gonna…” I stepped away from the phone.
I couldn’t watch anymore.
Couldn’t really breathe, either.
Years.
I’d spent four years with his man.
Jolessa, my so-called best friend, had set us up on a blind date.
I’d been half in love with him by the end of it.
I’d been more than in love with him the next month when I found out he was the newest teacher at West Dallas High.
Ever since the day I’d asked him if he wanted to have lunch with me in the cafeteria, we’d been together.
We’d been happy.
At least, I’d thought we were.
Hours passed as I put on a fake smile and taught the rest of my classes.
I got a ton of pitying looks from the kids—all of them aware of who Principal Tomlinson was to me. Hell, most of them had classes taught by him at the beginning of their high school careers.
This was a hard blow for everyone, but most of all, me.
If I got one more “are you okay,” I was going to scream.
Luckily, my last class was a study period, so no one would miss me.
The moment I was free, I started my march toward the stupid trailers that housed administration.
All of the teachers that I passed gave me wide eyes and thumbs up, knowing exactly where I was headed.
“What that mouth do, baby?” a man holding a jackhammer up with his hips asked.
I turned my angry gaze to him, and I saw him swallow hard, realizing that I wasn’t one to be fucked with today.
My brothers liked to call it my “crazy eyes.”
Likely, they saw that I was about to lose it, and didn’t want anything to do with me.
I could only imagine what my face looked like right now. “Probably hurt your feelings, sir.”
He nodded, his eyes still wide, and said, “Sorry.”
“You better be,” I grumbled and kept stomping toward the office.
The year had started with a bang—a water main breaking bang.
It’d flooded the entire front office, forcing the upper house to move into the parking lot in a rented trailer.
I, of course, expected to find Rupert in the trailer.
What I hadn’t expected to find was the superintendent standing over him, watching him pack his desk.
The superintendent, Dr. Musgraves, a board-certified child psychologist turned teacher, turned superintendent, was a great guy.
But today he had a terrible look on his face as he watched Rupert finish packing his bags.
“You are asked not to come back onto school property,” Dr. Musgraves rattled on, seeing me and not caring.
I crossed my arms over my chest and watched the scene.
The door behind me opened, and I moved to the side to see multiple police officers enter the office, one of whom had a cuffed Jolessa with him.
My gaze took them all in, and I nearly laughed when Jolessa saw me standing there and flinched.
“Rupert Tomlinson, you’re under arrest for…”
I didn’t listen to the rest. I walked outside, didn’t spare Jolessa a glance, and headed for my car in the parking lot.
I’d seen enough, of course.
“Ms. Sweat!”
I stopped short of entering the teacher parking lot and found Dr. Musgraves standing there, breathing hard.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.
I rubbed at my eyes with the tips of my fingers and said, “You and me both, Dr. Musgraves.”
“Both have been terminated,” he said. “I would highly suggest you find a different place to live, though. It’s best not to be associated with him right now. It might give the school board the wrong impression.”
I was already nodding my head. “I’m actually headed to U-Haul right now. I’m going to call my brothers, and we’re going to get my stuff packed up tonight. I’ll be out of his house by nightfall.”
“Good.” He cupped my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sweat.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Not as sorry as I will be when I have to tell my brothers what happened.”
His smile was soft when he said, “Let me know if you need anything.”
I looked at my feet. “Thank you, Dr. Musgraves.”
“Be safe.”
Then he was heading back to the offices, where I could now see my asshole ex being led out in handcuffs.
“…said that it was indecency with a minor,” I heard someone say from behind me.
I felt decidedly empty as I watched them go.
Honestly, as I made my way home that night and entered my house, I truly didn’t think that anything could make this day worse.
Truly, I didn’t.
But then I started getting text messages from my work colleagues.
There was a new group chat—sans Jolessa—talking about something that I didn’t want to even contemplate.
There was no doubt in my mind that they were trying to comfort me for the day.
Truly, I would rather die right now, drown in the bowl of cereal I was making for myself, than look at that group chat.
But it was so persistent that I realized that I would have to mute it.
There was no other recourse for me right now.
To remain sane…
I opened the group text up and started to thumb to the settings at the top when a text caught my eye.
Rita Thompson:
I couldn’t believe it either! She was hit on the side of the road leading to that house at the lake! The huge mansion with that massive wrought-iron gate that looks like it could keep prisoners from the state pen out! Right down the road from it. The guy that lives there gave a statement and said that he was saddened to hear the news, and he’s fully cooperating with police on the matter. A hit and run. She was killed instantly.
What the hell?
I scrolled up and realized who it was they were talking about.
Oh, my god.
I switched to the news app on my phone, and sure enough, the first story that popped up was the one I was searching for.
The mystery of the woman who was hit by a car late last night from a hit-and-run has been identified as missing thirty-two-year-old librarian from West Dallas High.
Oh. My. God.