Chapter 16
Blakelyn
It’s still dark outside when my alarm starts blaring. I roll over fast, my heart hammering, and slap the screen to shut it up. My body’s already awake—jolted with nerves and anticipation before my feet even hit the floor.
It’s August.
It’s August.
And today is my first official day.
I’m a teacher again.
My chest tightens with that realization.
Not in the panicked, suffocating way I used to feel in the middle of Tyler’s house when the world felt like it was closing in.
This time, it’s different. This time it’s a weight I chose to carry.
A job I fought to get. A place I escaped to and planted myself in, hoping it would grow into something solid under my feet.
I sit on the edge of the bed in the quiet cabin. The air is thick with August heat, even before the sun’s up. The ceiling fan rattles above me. Crickets still hum outside. My nerves spike like I’m twenty-two, again, and stepping into a classroom for the first time.
I’m not her.
I’m not that version of myself anymore.
I know how to survive now.
I’ve learned how to leave when I need to.
How to rebuild.
And maybe… just maybe, how to let someone in again.
Though. I haven’t seen Gruene since Saturday and it’s Monday.
I’ve told myself it’s because he’s been slammed at work, and I’ve been in and out of my classroom every day, all day.
I make coffee on autopilot, pad barefoot over the worn wood, and try to ignore the tight pull in my stomach that has nothing to do with the school day ahead and everything to do with the man who kissed me like he wanted to rewrite time, and then, disappeared again like he regretted it….
He hasn’t come by since the night he told me about his wife and daughter.
He hasn’t texted me.
He hasn’t left another note.
He lives in the cabin fifteen feet from mine, but nothing.
I should’ve expected it.
I did expect it.
But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Sipping my coffee in the silence, I stare out the window toward his cabin.
His truck has been gone every morning since that night.
Reece says the tubing crowds have tripled with the August rush, and they’re slammed every day.
He mentioned it casually on Sunday when I ran into him in town.
I didn’t ask where Gruene was, and Reece didn’t mention him at all…
maybe that says more than anything else.
I told him I wanted more, and it was too much.
I asked for too much.
But I didn’t. And I’m not going to be someone’s bedmate… not even Gruene.
I care about him too much for that. And I deserve more than that.
By the time I pull into the Juniper Falls Middle School parking lot, my palms are sweating.
The lot is mostly empty except for a few familiar cars and one ancient red Ford Bronco with a Texas flag bumper sticker. The building looms quiet and clean, the sun still low enough to keep the heat from pressing down too hard yet.
Cutting the engine, I sit there for a second.
This is real.
This is mine .
I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror—neat makeup, low bun, neutral lips, a soft dress with sleeves that don’t show the finger-shaped bruises that only I can still see.
“You’re not her anymore,” I whisper. “You are Blakelyn Walker and you are a damn good teacher. Let’s do this.” Grabbing my bag, I climb out and walk toward the front doors like I belong here.
Because I do.
The day is a blur of handshakes, checklists, laminated signs, and orientation schedules. I’ve met people through setting up my classroom and I met the other new hires at the staff orientation. But today is the first day that everyone is in the building. It’s exciting and a little overwhelming.
My classroom—Room 112—is in the older wing of the original building, tucked between the science lab and a hallway that smells faintly of bleach and floor wax.
There are twenty desks. I have four bulletin boards.
A chalkboard. A projector. And a whiteboard that ghosts with faint leftover marker from whomever used it last.
I didn’t have much to decorate with, but I was creative with what I was able to scrounge up.
I don’t have any personal photos on my desk.
There are no framed quotes on the walls.
But the room is cozy and welcoming. I think I did a great job with just a few boxes of supplies I picked up with my new-teacher stipend, some finds from the staff closet from things former teachers left behind, a couple of thrift store purchases, and a vase I filled with fresh sunflowers I cut from the riverbed yesterday.
They remind me of Gruene, but I set them in the windowsill anyway.
I greet a few of the other seventh grade teachers I’ve passed in the halls and meet the rest—Mrs. Davenport, who’s been here twenty years and runs the grade like a mafia boss; Coach Mills, who doesn’t know how to whisper; and Miss Keller, who’s fresh out of college and already overwhelmed.
I smile, nod, and pretend like I’m not unraveling a little more every time I check my phone and still see nothing.
After lunch, I head to the office to finalize my last paperwork.
The secretary, LouAnn, is kind and no-nonsense.
She pushes three forms toward me, double-checks my ID, and inputs the last of my information into the district system.
“Alright, Miss Walker,” she says. “You’re now officially official.
” She smiles like she knows I need that reassurance. And maybe I do.
I smile back. “Thank you.”
She glances at the clock. “You’ve got about an hour before the final meeting. The door at the end of the hall leads to the school garden and there’s always a pretty nice breeze out there.” She winks. “Go breathe.”
I take her advice. Stepping outside, I exhale. It’s shaky because I can feel the day stretching behind me like a weight and not just because it’s my first one at a new school in a new town.
I wanted to tell him.
I wanted to look at him across that stretch of grass between our cabins and say, “Hey, I’m starting tomorrow.”
But he didn’t give me the chance and I didn’t chase him down for it because some part of me still believes that if someone wants to know the details of your life, they show up for them.
And he hasn’t... Not since he broke apart in my arms and gave me a piece of his wreckage.
Maybe that’s all I was ever meant to hold.
I get back to my cabin after five.
It’s too hot to think, too quiet to sit still.
Changing into cutoff shorts and an old tank top, I pull my hair into a ponytail, and head down toward the river.
Not to swim. Not to find him. Just to be close to the water… to let the current remind me that everything keeps moving, even when I feel stuck.
Stepping into the shallows, I close my eyes. The rocks are slick under my feet. The water laps at my calves, cool and fast and alive.
It soothes something in me, until I hear his voice. “Careful.”
My eyes snap open.
Gruene is standing on the bank. His arms are crossed. His jaw is tight. And his shirt is clinging to his chest like it was made to mold to his body. His eyes are locked on me.
My heart trips. “I’m not going further in,” I retort.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” He says.
“I’m not,” I flippantly reply. “You’re standing right there, are you not? I don’t know why, but here you are.”
I hit a nerve. His eyes narrow and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just stands there like he’s at war with himself.
I shouldn’t have said anything, but I’m peeved. I’m hot. I’ve worked all day. And he’s made zero attempt to even wave at me for days.
Stepping back onto the bank, I slap at the river water on my shins. “Do you need something?”
He exhales through his nose. “Reece said you started today.”
Reece told him I started today…
He knew what day I started. I told him.
He just forgot, and then, he ghosted me.
I say nothing as I widen my eyes at him, asking him what his point is.
“You weren’t going to tell me?” He snaps.
“How would I tell you, Gruene? I haven’t seen you in days.” My voice is soft but firm.
He looks down at his boots. The nerve in his jaw ticks as silence stretches between us.
I exhale. “You told me about them… Molly… Aubree… You let me in, Gruene . And you disappeared like it didn’t mean anything as you are so prone to do.” My voice is tight with barely restrained hurt and frustration.
“It meant everything, ” he snaps. “I let you in , Blakelyn. I don’t fucking let anyone in.” I flinch as he runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick out everywhere. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”
“You could’ve just said something. Anything.” I snap back. “Instead, you let me in, you fucked me… or rather, you let me fuck you , and then, you fucking ghosted me!”
He winces, but his fists clench at his sides. I’m not scared he’ll hit me when he steps forward. I meet him, enraged and tired of this game we’re playing.
Suddenly we’re toe to toe, the river behind me and the storm in his eyes swirling straight through my ribs.
His voice is intense as he says, “I don’t know how to be this , Blakelyn. I’ve been surviving. For six fucking years, that’s all I’ve known. I stay the fuck away from people. I told you I didn’t know how to do this. Repeatedly! I tried to stay away. But I can’t!
“Ever since you showed up… with your innocence and your trust and your sass and those goddamn eyes that look at me like I’m not broken! You said you wanted more, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with that! I want more too, but I don’t know if I can be what you want! What you deserve!”
Oh, Gruene.
Tears form in my eyes at the anguish within his words.
They’re hot. My throat is thick with them, but I keep my chin high.
“I choose what I deserve, Gruene! Not you! I don’t need you fucking perfect.
You’re not perfect! I didn’t ask you to be perfect.
I just need you to stop running !” My chest is heaving and I’m about to sob.