Chapter 26
THIS IS ALL MY FAULT.
Poppy
It’s Fun Friday today in class—the students’ favorite day of the week.
I aim to make every school day a fun learning experience, but today, especially, we let loose.
The kids are free to move around the room to different play centers.
Each station is set up with various activities to make learning enjoyable.
One station features sentence-building puzzles where they can create short sentences like I like the bear, with the bear being a photo.
Another station has simple addition and subtraction flashcards.
The kids absolutely love it. It’s highly interactive, and I’ve been lucky to have an amazing group that gets along and doesn’t fight over anything, which is common at this age.
You know, the whole sharing is caring thing.
It’s a personal favorite day for me because it’s my time to straighten up my desk and classroom before the weekend. Otherwise, I’d be home wondering all weekend how much of a mess I’m going to walk into on Monday.
“Miss Barlow?” Sage says, standing in front of my desk.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to give you this. I drew you a picture.” She smiles proudly.
“You did? Oh, Sage. That’s so sweet.”
I extend my hand over my desk, and she hands me the colorful drawing before hiding her hands behind her back and swaying in anticipation for me to see.
When I look down, my heart practically stops beating.
It’s a picture of stick figure people, with two houses on each side of them.
A colorful sun is drawn in the corner, with mountains perched in the background.
But it’s not any of that forcing me to pause.
There are three adults in the picture and a small child—I can tell by the height difference that she’s created.
In messy and backward letter handwriting reads:
Mommy. Sage. Daddy. Poppy.
Poppy.
A family portrait.
Sage drew me into a family picture in Bluestone Lakes, and my heart doesn’t know what to make of it.
It’s beating so hard in my chest that it feels like it will pound right through the skin.
There’s a part of me throwing up all sorts of alarm bells that this is bad…
very bad. It means I’ve crossed a line with one of my students’ parents and allowed myself to get too close.
I’m her teacher. That’s where it’s supposed to end.
But my brain sees so much more. A child’s drawing that feels like an open door I want to look through. Guilt hits me in the face as I wonder what it would be like if this were my family. One that she wants me to be a part of.
This should feel wrong, but it doesn’t.
And that’s what scares me the most.
“Do you like it?” Sage asks innocently.
“I love it,” I choke out. “I think this will be one I take home with me.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes light up. “Are you going to put it on your fridge?”
I nod. “I have a special place for it.”
“I love that,” she says before skipping off to join her friends at a station.
I can’t lie to Sage, and while I’m only stretching the truth, I can’t have this in my classroom. I don’t want other teachers or a parent of another student to get the wrong idea or think I play favorites after reading too much into this picture.
That’s when reality strikes.
I force myself to pause, waiting for the sounds to come—the voice in my head screaming. But it doesn’t. It’s quiet now. There’s a dull murmur, but it’s low enough that I can take a step over it. It’s mildly disorienting, like stepping onto solid ground after being on a rocking boat.
Lifting my eyes, I watch Sage playing with the other kids.
My mind shifts to her dad. I won’t say he saved me.
That’s too dramatic and would be a lie. But I can’t deny the truth either.
Since he’s come to town and into my life, something has shifted.
Dallas doesn’t fight my chaos; he welcomes it.
He hasn’t pushed me away, even knowing all the darker parts of me.
And reality strikes me again.
Dallas Westbrook hasn’t pushed me away. I told him everything—from having obsessive-compulsive disorder to being a virgin—and he hasn’t ghosted me.
Instead, he invited me over for a movie night with Sage.
He didn’t try anything, but he didn’t need to.
His eyes were on me the entire movie, the kiss when I showed up at the back door, and then again when I left, tells me everything I need to know.
I used to believe I would live my life tense, controlled, and tired.
But I’m starting to wonder if I’m now allowed to be more.
Not because he made me feel like more.
Because being with Dallas has helped me see that I already was.
The bell signaling the end of the period rings, pulling me from any more thoughts. Rachel comes in moments later because our next period is outside recess, which ends the school day.
“Do you mind taking the kids today?” I ask her.
“Of course.”
“I didn’t get a chance to finish cleaning up, and I’d like to get things together so we can get out of here on time today.”
“Sounds good to me.” She nods. “Is everyone ready to go outside?” she asks the class.
They all cheer and line up by the door, ready to go.
As soon as they’re out the door, I circle the room and begin cleaning up.
I place all the colored pencils, crayons, and markers in their designated spot before piling the drawing paper all together and wiping down the table.
I put all the books back in the mini bookshelf and the puzzles away on the shelf.
By then, I make my way to my desk to sit down to finish organizing that.
The phone on my desk rings, and I pick it up quickly.
“Hello?”
“Poppy,” Rachel says, sounding frantic. My nervous system is on high alert as I stand from my chair. “Sage fell off the swing and hit her head.”
I hang up the phone and run to the playground. My hand grips my badge to prevent it from bouncing all over the place as I fly through the double doors leading to the playground.
“This is all my fault,” I mutter.
I never skip outdoor recess, and the one time I do, something happens.
The cold hair smacks me in the face, and the only sound I hear is screams and cries coming from Sage. Snapping my head in their direction, I run some more, my heart in my throat, unable to breathe.
No. No. No.
Sage sees me running to her, and I watch her break down even more. I sit next to her on the bench, completely out of breath as she wraps her arms around me and sobs.
“Shh. It’s okay. I’m here,” I say calmly, even though my insides are screaming in panic. I look down, brush her hair out of her face, and see the bump already forming on her forehead where she hit it. “You’re okay.”
“It hurts, Miss Barlow. Is my head bleeding?”
“No, no blood. But you already have a little bump forming. Let’s get you to the nurse to have you checked out.”
I look up at Rachel, and she nods. “I have the other kids. Go.”
Sage doesn’t let go of me when we walk to the nurse. I have my arm around her shoulder, and her arms are around my waist as we walk together. I’m terrified she’s going to pass out and fall to the ground at any given second.
This is all my fault.
I sit on the chair next to the desk in the nurse’s office while she looks over Sage. My leg bounces, and my hands feel clammy while I wait. I know she’s okay. She has to be okay. It’s just a bump.
“She’s going to be okay,” the nurse says. “She’s just got a little bump. No immediate signs of a concussion. I’m going to call her dad to come pick her up, though.”
“I’ll do it,” I say a little too quickly. “I mean, I can do that. I can call him.”
“Okay.” She shrugs. “I’m going to grab her an ice pack.”
Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I find Dallas in my contacts and press connect with shaky hands.
“Hey, Poppy,” he says with a relaxed voice.
“Dallas,” I nearly sob when I say his name out loud, but I clear my throat. “Sage had an accident on the playground and hit her head. I’m—”
“I’m on my way,” he says quickly, cutting me off and hanging up the phone.
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the wall behind me.
I need to breathe.
But I can’t.
I have to get out of this room.
“Do you have her for a second?” I ask the nurse, and she nods. “I’m just going to run back to the classroom to grab her stuff so she’s ready to go.”
Once I step into the hallway, I inhale one long breath to try and steady myself.
I rush to my classroom and close the door behind me.
Alone in the room, panic engulfs me. I claw at my stomach, bending over and letting the tears fall.
This is exactly why I stick to my routine, because I feel a sense of control.
Could she have fallen off the swing with me there?
Yes. But I wouldn’t have been so far away.
I could have jumped into action quicker.
I stagger my way to my desk, feeling uneasy on my feet.
I can’t rid my mind of this panic.
Dallas is going to blame me. Sage is going to blame me.
This is all my fault.
Moments later, there’s a light knock on my door.
As soon as it opens, I see Dallas filling the frame, hesitant to come in.
As soon as his eyes meet mine, though, something in him snaps.
He rushes over to me, rounding my desk and crouching down beside me.
My lips tremble, and my eyes well with tears spilling down my cheeks. I don’t say anything because I can’t.
I’m sorry just seems so inconsequential.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I shake my head, and he reaches for me, pulling me into him. My forehead falls to his shoulder, and my body shakes with sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh, honey. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
He pulls back. With one hand on my shoulder and the other taking my chin in his fingers, he forces me to look at him.
“Sage is okay. She has a nasty bump on her head, but I promise you, it’s not the first one she’s ever had.
” He pauses, making sure his words hit me where they need to.
I release a sigh of relief, almost, even if my brain is still telling me otherwise.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there. ”
“But I wasn’t,” I snap, standing from my chair and brushing him aside to pace the room.
“That’s the problem, Dallas. I always am.
I never miss outdoor recess, but today I did.
” My words come out louder with each one I say, frantic as I move around the classroom.
“Today, I sent Rachel. I wasn’t there. You should hate me. I wasn’t watching your daughter.”
He doesn’t respond. He just stands there in silence, absorbing everything I just said. With slow, tentative steps, he closes the gap between us.
“Listen to me carefully when I tell you this, Poppy. You’re not to blame. No one is.”
And the better part of my mind knows that.
I don’t know why I’m still spiraling.
“And I never want to hear you say that I should hate you. There isn’t a bone in my body that possibly could.”
I stand there, shocked at his admission.
The corners of his lip twist into a grin as he registers the look on my face.
Swiping a tear lodged on my cheek away, he presses a kiss to the spot.
“And I mean that. I’d stay here for hours if I could to tell you and make sure you know, but I’m going to get Sage home to ice her head some more and rest.”
I nod, unable to find the right words to say back.
He leans in one more time, kissing me softly. Confirmation that he meant what he said before turning around, grabbing her bag, and walking out the door.
It’s only then that the screaming in my head subsides.