35. June
CHAPTER 35
JUNE
I asked Doug to drop me off at school, and I could tell the boys didn’t like the idea that I wasn’t coming home with them. But I have to do damage control on my end as well. I didn’t tell them that Principal Prescott left me a message, asking to see me ASAP. Jake is already feeling terribly guilty about what happened, and I don’t want to add to it.
The students have all gone home, but the faculty won’t leave for another hour or so. My stomach is in knots. I have no idea if I still have a job. The whole situation was caused by my personal drama, after all. The school has a zero-tolerance policy for violence, and my boyfriend started a fight with my ex. On pins and needles, I text Katrina.
ME: Did you speak with Prescott after the incident?
KATRINA: No. Where are you now?
ME: I’m back at school, walking to her office.
KATRINA: I’m in the lounge. I’ll wait for you.
ME: Okay. Wish me luck.
KATRINA: You’ll be fine. She loves you.
I appreciate the support, but Katrina’s words don’t comfort me. I know I’m in big trouble. I put my phone away and dry my clammy hands on my skirt before walking into the reception area of the principal’s office. Mathilda, Principal Prescott’s PA, isn’t at her desk, which surprises me. Maybe she’s in a meeting with the principal.
Hell. What do I do now? Maybe I should call the principal to let her know I’m here. In hindsight, I should have let her know I was on my way. Today has been a dumpster fire, and I can’t think straight.
While I’m pacing and debating what to do, the door to her office opens and Mathilda walks out. “Oh, you’re here.”
“Yeah, I just got back from the police station.”
“Is that June?” Principal Prescott asks from inside.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mathilda replies.
“Let her in.”
I take a deep breath before I walk into her office, and my nervousness only increases when I see the grave expression on Principal Prescott’s face. My heart is stuck in my throat as I take a seat.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Y-yes, at least I think I am.”
It all depends on whether you’re firing me today or not.
“What happened to Jake?”
“Nothing. Bill didn’t press charges.” I lick my dry lips.
Her brows arch. “Are you going to press charges against your ex?”
It didn’t cross my mind to do that, especially after Bill told me why he was after me in the first place. I shake my head. “No.”
“Really? Wasn’t he stalking you?”
“Sort of, but I don’t think I have to worry about that anymore.”
Principal Prescott smirks, surprising me. “Not after he got his ass kicked by Jake Phillips.”
That’s not it, but I can’t tell the principal why Bill will leave me alone now. “Uh... I guess.”
She becomes serious again, and her brows almost meet in the middle. “I’m glad your boyfriend was there to protect you, but you know we don’t tolerate any type of violence on the premises.”
“I know, and I’m very sorry it happened.”
“I am too. I spent the rest of my day dealing with the board and answering to concerned parents.”
“Am I getting fired?” I blurt out.
Her eyes widen. “Why would I fire you over this incident? You didn’t punch your ex.”
“No, but my boyfriend did.”
“You’re lucky that your boyfriend happens to be Jake Phillips, who already made a considerable donation to the school. That went a long way to appease the board.”
“He did? When did that happen?”
“A few minutes before you arrived. I assumed you knew.”
I shake my head. “No, I had no idea.”
My guilt over this whole thing doubles. Not only did Jake, Lachy, and Ryan get in trouble with the law, but now Jake had to spend money. Not that I don’t appreciate the donation. The school surely needs it, but I don’t like how it came about.
“If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t be allowed back on school premises, but I won’t bar him from showing up after the dust settles. You don’t seem happy about it, though.”
Heat spreads across my face. I should really try to keep my emotions from being so obvious. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. And I seriously thought I’d get fired.”
Principal Prescott leans back in her chair and smiles. “Not this time, but don’t make it a habit. Promise me there will be no more drama or scandals involving you. I can protect you only so far.”
My stomach coils tightly, making me nauseous. I bet if the press found out I was dating three hockey players, that would be a scandal.
“I understand.” That’s all I can say. I can’t bring myself to make a promise I might not be able to keep.
Katrina waited to make sure I was all right, then she had to leave thirty minutes earlier than usual. Because I missed part of the lecture day and no substitute teacher was called, my students were asked to write an essay, which I have to grade. I want to get those done before I go home.
It takes me around an hour and a half to go through them all, and it would have gone faster if text messages from the boys hadn’t distracted me.
On my way to the car, I text them all to let them know I’m on my way home. Before I get to my car, I have the eerie sensation someone is watching me. I turn around and catch the lens of a professional camera sticking out the window of a black car.
Fear grips my heart in a tight hold. I rush to my car and open the door with shaking hands. It takes me a few seconds to find the keyhole and start the car. It doesn’t help that I’m looking in the rearview mirror to see if the black car is still there. Fuck. It is.
I finally manage to turn on the engine and put the car in reverse. I back up faster than I would normally, then burn rubber exiting the parking lot. I can’t check to see if the black car is following until I merge into traffic. My heart is beating so fast, it feels like it’s going to perforate my chest at any second. I keep glancing in the rearview mirror—more often than is smart—and when I finally spot the black car weaving through traffic, my heart jumps into my throat and gets stuck there.
I accelerate and do something I’ve never been crazy enough to do before—I drive like a local. I can’t go home and lead whoever is following me there. Very few people know my new address. I can’t call anyone, because my phone is in my handbag and looking for it could cause an accident. Besides, whoever I call won’t be able to do anything.
I see the sign for the police station I just left a few hours ago, but to get there I need to take a right at the next intersection, and I’m stuck in the middle lane. There’s barely any room to switch lanes, but I do it anyway, cutting in front of someone. Their horn blares loudly, which only serves to fry my nerves more. Why can’t I catch a fucking break?
As if offended by my question, the Fates decide to amp up the antics. A dumbass pulls out of his parking spot too fast and straight into my car. That wouldn’t have been terrible if I were wearing my seatbelt. My forehead hits the steering wheel, and God damnit, it hurts like a mother.
Dizzy, I lean back and touch my forehead. My fingers brush something wet—blood. Shit. I bet I’ll need stitches. My phone rings, and it takes me a while to find it, not only because I’m shaken by the crash but because my purse slid from the passenger seat onto the floor, and everything spilled out, including my phone.
When I finally grab it, I see it’s Ryan calling. “Hello?”
“Peaches, please tell me that’s not your car I see in the middle of a wreck.”
How could he possibly know I was in an accident?
“What? Where are you?”
Someone knocks on my window and yells, “Miss, are you all right?”
“Hell, it is you! It’s okay, my love. I’m coming. I’m coming.”