6. Connor
CONNOR
You don’t get to promise me anything when there’s so many years of nothing hanging between us.
Delaney’s words were a slap in the face, one I deserved, but a sharp sting nonetheless.
But how can I explain the way my heart shattered when she left?
How the only way I could begin to function without her was to keep her locked away in my memories, how I had to let the distance burn out the flame I’d been carrying for her for years, how my world flipped upside down when she left and I’d finally set it right side up again.
It’s easier to let her think I’m the ass who stopped picking up her calls, who declined every offer to see her. I’d rather that than crack my heart open and tell her the truth after all these years, only for her to leave again.
I take the long way back to my house, another punishing three miles in an attempt to clear my head.
We’ve got twenty acres of land, half of it idle.
A few years ago, this place would have been teeming with workers, even after sundown, trying to manage the harvest. Today, the orchard is silent.
Our dwindling roster of employees clocked out hours ago.
We’ll be lucky if we have enough of a yield to keep the farm store open through October.
Add that to my rapidly growing list of failures.
I take the back steps of the farmhouse two at a time, desperate for a cold shower and to get my ass in bed.
I redid the house when I bought it from my dad a few years back. Opened up the downstairs, repainted and redecorated the bedrooms. But I never could bring myself to take over the primary suite. My bedroom faces out over the orchard, and beyond that, Delaney’s house. A much better view.
I grab my phone from my nightstand and fire off a quick text.
Me: I’ll come get you tomorrow.
Then another one:
Me: Shit, that sounds creepy. This is Connor. I meant I’ll drive you to work tomorrow.
I stare up at the ceiling, willing sleep to come. I try thinking about my new students, the reading I’ll assign tomorrow, helping out with the track team, anything to keep my mind from thinking about Delaney.
But it’s pointless. Seeing her tonight, hair slicked back from sweat, wearing those running shorts with a sports bra, body glistening in the moonlight, it’s impossible to think about anything other than her.
Delaney being back in Ridgecrest has unlocked a part of my heart that I’ve ignored for so long. A part of my heart that beats only for her.
“Mr. Majors, is it true that you grew up with her?” Simon, the lanky senior sitting in the front row, asks during second period.
“Grew up with who, Simon?” I play dumb, keeping my head down as I pull up the slides on my laptop to project for the class.
Senior AP English is always my favorite class to teach, and this year is shaping up to be no exception.
I spent all summer revamping my curriculum, and the nerd in me is excited to share it with this group of kids, even though they’d clearly rather talk about the celebrity in our midst.
“Don’t play dumb,” he scoffs.
Caught.
I straighten in my seat. “Watch the attitude. Yes, I know Delaney, uh, Miss James,” I admit. “We were neighbors growing up.”
“But she didn’t go to school here, right?” a bubbly blonde sitting a few rows back pipes up. “You went to Ridgecrest High, but she went out of town to that prep school. And I read that she didn’t even graduate because she moved right after her first album came out.”
I peer over my laptop as I reply, “I hope you’re planning to put the same level of attention and dedication you have for a pop star into your schoolwork this year, Abby.”
The girl’s cheeks pink as a few snickers break out around the classroom.
“She did graduate.” I clarify despite myself. “She kept up with her classes at Boyd Prep virtually and then came back for graduation.”
Simon quirks an eyebrow at me. “Seems like Abby isn’t the only one with the pop star knowledge, Mr. Majors.”
The snickers ripple though the classroom again as I round my desk to perch on the edge.
Rolling my eyes dramatically, I reply, “I’ve literally lived next door to her my whole life. It would be weird if I didn’t know things about her. Now stop distracting me and let me show you what I’ve been working on.”
The class manages to keep the Delaney talk to a minimum for the majority of the period, but as the bell rings, a chorus of giggles breaks out.
“I’m totally gonna ask her,” Abby squeals at a volume that should be illegal.
“What now, Abby?” I question.
“Oh nothing,” she says, packing up her backpack with a grin that tells me it’s far from nothing. “Just gonna ask Miss James if she has any good dirt on you.”
She’s got plenty of dirt, but nothing that isn’t equally as incriminating for her.
“Go for it. Why don’t you write it up in an essay for me tomorrow?” I raise an eyebrow to her as a challenge, and she pales a little.
“I’m… I’m just messing around, Mr. Majors. We’re gonna be late… see you tomorrow!” Abby and her crew scurry away down the hall, leaving me shaking my head.
Delaney and I were known to raise a little hell in our early teens, mostly mischief and shenanigans around the orchard. Delaney was the mastermind and I was along for the ride, always more than willing to be her sidekick.
“Do I get extra credit if I do it?”
Simon’s voice cuts through my memories. He’s got a goofy grin that reminds me a little of myself at that age.
“Sure, kid. Knock yourself out. Five points extra credit for a short piece of narrative nonfiction recounting some dirt that Miss James has on me.”
I laugh to myself as he bounds out of the classroom, nearly tripping over his long limbs.
“Why the hell does my swim captain look so happy to be here?” a deep voice booms from the doorway.
Wells Asbury, history teacher, swim coach, and my reluctant best friend. Students slip past him as he stalks into my classroom.
“He’s on a mission to get Delaney to tell an embarrassing story about me.”
Wells crosses his arms, coming to a stop at the edge of my desk. “Are you liking having her back in town?”
“Did Caroline send you to check up on me?”
Wells hitches his shoulders up, a sheepish grin peeking through his beard. “Maybe. Or maybe I wanted to use your office during my free period, since it’s so much nicer than mine.” Without another word, he slinks across the room to my attached office.
Caroline and I forced him into our fold when he came to work at Ridgecrest two years ago.
He’s grumpy as hell, damn good at his job, and secretly loves the students more than the rest of us combined.
He’s a man of few words, but I’ve gathered bits and pieces of his story over the years.
He knows what it’s like to not have anyone in your corner, and he works his ass off to make sure none of his students feel that way.
And, as grumbly and reserved as he is, he can meddle with the best of them. I know damn well Caroline sent him in here to gossip, and he was more than happy to oblige.
Leaning on the door frame, I poke my head into my office as the last of the students file into their seats behind me, the bell signaling the start of third period.
Wells has taken up residence, feet propped up, hands laced behind his head.
“Boots off the desk.” He doesn’t move a muscle. “And to answer your question…” Wells raises an eyebrow at that. “It’s weird as hell having her back here. I think it’s gonna be a long semester.” He gives a satisfied hrmph, and I leave him there, shaking his head, boots still on my desk.
“Mr. Majors! I heard you dated Miss. James! Is that true?”
Gonna be a long fucking semester indeed.