34. Thirty-Four
Jack answers his front door, smiling wide when he sees me. He’s wearing a white towel wrapped loosely around his waist because of course, he is. I hate that my eyes wander over him like I’m on an exploratory adventure. His wet hair drips onto his face, clean-shaven for once—he’s made an effort. Shame it’s for nothing.
“Rowan, hey, I’m almost ready. Want to ride together?”
Game face, Rowan. “No. I only have a minute.”
My forced smile makes his brow pinch. “What’s wrong?”
I take a breath, and my plan falters. The short but direct speech I prepared seemed like the right idea, in theory. I had all night to work it out and affix the calm, unshakable demeanor I needed to deliver it. I hold his manuscript in my arm and my keys in my hand. My bag and a travel mug of coffee await me in my VW—I’m ready for a quick exit. I’m determined to minimize the damage and hold myself together.
All I have to do is say what I need to say and be done with it. Quickly. But my strength wobbles unsteadily.
“Want to come in?” He motions inside, but I shake my head.
I glance around him, almost expecting to see her, even though her BMW accelerated down Daisy Lane two hours after spying them together, taking what remained of my hope and dignity with her.
“No. Definitely not. I need to make this quick.” My keys jingle in my hand like proof. “I’m canceling today’s visit and ending our deal.” I hand over his manuscript. “But I finished this. It’s amazing, but you already know that. I’m glad you got what you needed.”
“What I needed?” His face scrunches. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“The other thing is that I’m moving regardless of what you do. Sell your house if you want to, but the point is, our deal is off.”
“Why?” His hands go to his hips. “Did something happen? Why are you upset?”
A tear slips through my rigid facade. I swipe it, scraping my cheek with my keys. “I don’t want to argue. I’m not even mad—”
“Are you kidding me? You’re seething. What’s wrong?” His eyes burrow into mine, his face stern and just as determined for me to answer as I am to run away.
“I came over last night, hoping for… I saw you with her, Jack.”
“You didn’t see me with her,” he refutes. “You saw her here—that’s all.”
“I saw enough.” My eyes catch his. I force another smile, shaking my head and letting the tears fall—there’s no stopping them now. “For the record… That woman doesn’t deserve you. Not your love, your pen, or your dick. She’s my boss, one of them, anyway. The kids call her the Ice Queen. She’s all about money and appearances and getting ahead. Your books sit on a shelf in her office, propped up by old swimming trophies. That’s what you are to her, Jack—a trophy. I would’ve walked through fire for you. She doesn’t even read your books. But you’re so enamored by her fucking perfection—”
“No. I ended it with her. That’s all. If you’d walk through fire for me, then listen to me. I did not sleep with her. I did not kiss her. All we did was talk. I swear.”
“Right, and I’m just supposed to take your word for it, huh? Ignore what I know about you, ignore what I saw, and believe this time was different than all the other times she’s popped in?”
“I expect you to believe the truth.”
“You must think I’m…” So many derogatory words line up that I can’t pick the best one. In all my plans, I never expected an argument. Not really. I expected to barely get the words out over my incessant blubbering and hating myself for letting him see me like that. Facts are facts—how can he deny them? Despite what he might think, I’m not so pathetic that I’d turn a blind eye to his extracurricular love life or let him charm me into thinking he didn’t have one. I’m not that gullible.
Desperate to get out of here, I stumble down the stairs. My heel catches, twisting my ankle. Hard. I curse as I grab the railing to keep from falling. Pain shoots up my left leg.
“Rowan, stop. You okay?”
I ignore my throbbing foot. “We’re over—that’s all I need you to understand. I have to go to work.”
“Fuck work. You don’t get to drop this on me and bail.” He bypasses the stairs altogether by hopping down the stoop and jumping in front of me. “You don’t get to control this narrative like you do everything else—I deserve a chance to explain.”
“As if there’s anything to explain—” I take a breath, stopping. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Tough shit. I did not sleep with that woman. Or any woman. What can I do to prove it to you?”
“Nothing!” The word comes out loudly, making me look around, afraid I’ve woken the neighbors. I take a breath, desperately trying to stay calm but wincing as I put weight on my leg.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you,” Jack says, a little calmer.
“No, I’m fine. You don’t have to prove anything—we aren’t together. And you don’t want to be. You know what Evie’s about, why she shows up… she was here for hours, Jack. Hours. How can you reasonably expect me to believe nothing happened? If you care about me, how could you let her in?”
His face contorts with bothered creases. “I shouldn’t have let her in. You’re right. But I didn’t touch her. I didn’t even want to. I’ll tell you everything.”
I take a breath, unable to believe him or put myself through any more of this. “I have to go. I’ll be late.”
“You’re pissed—I get it. This is exactly how I felt when Dean showed up and put his fucking hands on you. But you have to believe me—nothing happened. I want you—”
“And every other engaged woman you can find! Don’t come near me again! Not today. Not in my class. Not ever! I wish I’d never moved here! You are the worst thing to ever happen to me, Jack Graham!”
I hobble at full speed to my VW, hands shaking as I put the key in the ignition. I jerk the car onto the street and head toward school. Though I want to call in sick and initiate a pity party with Edgar, I can’t. My students expect the great Jack Graham, and I need to explain why he’s not coming. Or, at least, give a watered-down version that doesn’t incriminate any administrators before popping in one of their favorite movies or anything that will soften the blow and get their eyes off me. Driving with the top down dries my tears.
But in the silence of my pre-bell classroom, I nearly crumble again. My ankle throbs and aches. But worse, the replay of our fight and images of him with Evelyn rip through me like a jagged blade. It shouldn’t hurt this much—not when I expected it to happen. My head falls into my hands—I’ve been such a fool.
“Ms. Mackey, everything okay?”
An exasperated huff lifts my head, bringing my eyes to Julio’s. “I don’t know anymore.”
Nodding, Julio sits next to my desk. “Rough morning?”
“The roughest.”
“How can I help?”
I sigh, glancing at my swollen foot. “Ice from the nurse?”
“Coming right up.”
The first bell rings. Ashley, Mia, and Eddie enter, carrying armfuls of Jack Graham’s books.
They eye my leg, now propped on a stack of dictionaries.
“Oh, my gosh, Ms. Mackey!” Ashley rushes over. She sees the dark purple and bluish bruise left by my awkward tumble and says, “Ew.”
“What did you do to yourself?” Eddie asks.
“A little misstep, that’s all.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t have to do any teaching today with Mr. Graham coming,” Mia notes with a sparkle in her hazel eyes. I take a deep breath, trying to hold myself together.
Eddie brings two throw pillows from our circle-time collection, propping one under my foot and the other behind my back. “We should probably come up with a better ottoman than a stack of dictionaries.”
“It’s nice seeing them put to use,” I joke.
When the second bell rings, my leg is much more comfortable in a cushioned folding chair and covered with a bag of ice. The students take strategic positions around the winged-back talking chair—some on the floor and others at desks, but all carrying Jack’s books and hopeful expressions as they await their revered guest.
The class quiets and their excited faces turn to me.
A teacher must always keep her shit together—it’s the foundation of teaching. And leave her personal drama at home—it has no place in her classroom.
But for the first time in nine school years, my sturdy and reliable classroom demeanor cracks like a glass table under too much weight. Flashes of Jack and that woman mix with his devastated expression when I said he was the worst thing to ever happen to me. I didn’t mean it—I could never mean that. The worst thing to ever happen to me is as clear as the scars on my face. I let Jack get to me, and anger get the better of me. Me, of all people. Shame settles on my shoulders along with everything else, splintering the cracks.
“Is he running late?” Mia’s voice shatters my mental shield.
Two tears slip out, one on either side, so I can’t play it off. “He’s not late. He’s not… I messed up.”
Julio stands while everyone else stares in mass shock, waiting for me to explain. He fetches the nearest tissue box and brings it to my desk. “It’s okay, Ms. Mackey. Happens to everyone.”
“I appreciate that, Julio.” I take a breath and force a smile. “But this time, it impacts all of you, and I hate that, especially since you’ve taken such good care of me. Don’t tell the others, but you truly are my favorites.”
They laugh, and Eddie says, “Oh, honey. We already know that.”
“What happened, Ms. Mackey?” Mia asks quietly.
“I got angry, and it must’ve short-circuited my wires because the things I said…”
“Uh, oh, Ms. Mackey. Did you say some choice words?” Eddie asks, grinning coyly.
I chuckle. “Ah, yes, you’d be proud, Eddie. I used some colorful sentence enhancers.”
“She sounded like an angry rapper,” a voice says, entering from the hallway. “Woke the whole neighborhood, and the funny thing is, she was talking to her damn foot. That’s the last time her foot will ever betray her like this.”
Shock precedes laughter as attention diverts to the man strolling into our classroom. It’s good they’re distracted, because my flushed face and gaping mouth prove unequivocally that I’m not keeping anything together.