Chapter 4
LOW-TO-HIGH – PUCK MOVED FROM BELOW THE GOAL LINE TO THE POINT
Three Months Later
The Honeyed Hearth feels off the second I walk in. Just…off. Like someone tuned into the back to school emotional frequency and forgot to fix it after work. Still, a honey latte feels like a perfect celebration after the first day of school. A gift of sweetness before I dive into lesson plans.
The bell over the door chimes when I step inside. Immediately, I’m wrapped in warmth and aromatic scents of coffee, cinnamon, bread. Familiar. Safe. I’m scanning the pastry case when a voice strangles on my name. “Amy?”
I freeze for half a beat before turning. My eyes widen fractionally when I recognize Mark Espias—Brennan’s agent and best friend. I don’t say a word as I take him in. All I know is he shouldn’t be in Willow Creek before deciding I don’t care.
I nod in his direction before ordering my usual. “Honey latte. To go, please.”
“Sure thing, Amy.”
Before I can pull out my card, Mark is tapping his. “Let me get that for you.”
I fling a disdainful glance in his direction. “There was no need. I pay my own way.”
Just like I paid my dues.
“I just can’t believe…Wow. It’s—uh—it’s been a long time.”
“It has.” The part of me that’s still bitter over his part in my life’s trajectory wishes I didn’t have a reputation to maintain. I’d so enjoy upending his drink all over his pristine shirt.
He glances at the barista, then back at me. “I didn’t know you lived here.”
“I was born here.”
“I would have thought you would have moved to a big city after school.”
Without missing a beat, I drawl, “Well, y’all kind of made that a bit difficult considering everything that happened senior year.”
“Um, so—how are you?” Bless his heart for persistence.
I smirk, “Uninterested in talking to you?”
He cringes. “Yeah. I understand why you might feel like that.”
I find a spot over his shoulder to watch a bird crap on a rental car. I sincerely hope it’s his.
“So, are you teaching?” he tries again.
“I’m the head of the Willow Creek High School Math department.”
“That’s STEM, right? Impressive.”
I force out a polite, “Thank you.”
He shifts his weight, lowers his voice. “Listen, I don’t want to be weird, but if someone from college asked about you. Old…friends. Did you want me to maybe—”
“No,” I interrupt firmly.
He blinks. “No?”
“I don’t have time for anyone from your former college.”
He corrects, “Our former college.”
“I’d claim it on more than paper if my life hadn’t been annihilated by a jealous wannabe puck bunny who wanted my ex-boyfriend despite dating you.
” I take great pleasure in the way his face turns chalk white.
While I sincerely hope he choked on his guilt over the years, I don’t want it to happen here.
Because in unearthing what happened, we found out Mark knew what Brielle had done.
The barista sets my drink on the counter. “Amy?”
I take the cup, nod politely at Mark, and step past him toward the door. Just as I push it open, he calls my name.
I stop and turn around, quirking a brow.
His voice is laced with regret. “I really want to apologize for everything.”
“A little too late, Mark. It doesn’t change you helping to ruin people’s lives.”
“Wait…about that…”
I don’t stop to listen to him. Instead, I leave and let the crisp air ground me.
Deciding that I handled that as best as I could, I reward myself with a sip of my latte before getting in my car to head home.
The encounter doesn’t shake me the way it once would have.
No spiral. No sharp, breath-stealing ache.
Once inside my apartment, I dump my bag and carefully place my latte on the end table. Taking stock of my emotions, I realize I don’t feel the fiery burn of agony thoughts of my past used to dredge up.
Maybe this is what people mean when they say time heals.
The familiar ping of an incoming video call fills the room. I click the green check to accept their incoming group chat and the faces of my best friends pop onto my cell phone’s screen. I kick off my shoes and flop onto my couch with a grin. “Hey.”
“Happy First Day!” Emery proclaims.
I beam even as I check my friends out to ensure they’re good.
Maya’s reclined on a lounger placed so she has a perfect view of the vineyard the man she loves oversees.
Christin’s background is blurred in a way that suggests secrets and superior Wi-Fi.
Emery’s shows she’s still at work based on the bright and cheerful walls where she sees injured high profile athletes who can afford her services.
Maya questions, “Who is going to be this year’s problem child?”
“Malik,” I answer immediately. “He’s smarter than I am.”
Emery grins. “Good for him.”
“He’s brilliant and exhausting. He spent fifteen minutes arguing that his answer was ‘conceptually correct.’”
“Then there’s Autumn. She’s sharp and already bored.”
Christin laughs. “I love it. She sounds just like you.”
“The kids are irritated that summer’s over, but curious. It should be a good year.”
Emery leans closer to her camera. “Okay, then why do you look like someone announced you lost your classroom funding?”
I brace before admitting, “Mark Espias is in town.”
All three of them react at once.
“Hell to the no!” Emery shouts.
“Why is he breathing your air space?” Maya snarls.
Christin just raises an eyebrow. “And?”
“I shut him down less than politely. Then he insinuated ‘college people’ were asking about me.”
Christin’s voice is lethal. “I’ll destroy him. Give me five minutes.”
Maya groans. “Don’t go to jail, Chris.”
“I won’t. Plus, I’m insulted you’d think I might.”
Emery growls. “You don’t owe anyone from that time access to you.”
“I know.”
Gradually, our call shifts back to stories about students, to laughter, and Maya’s obsession watching her man cook. I feel every ounce of tension that slipped inside of me from the moment I ran into Mark ease every time I laugh.
After we disconnect, I smile. This is my life now. Students who challenge me. Friends who protect me. A town that knows me for who I am, not who someone tried to make me into.
And nothing—not Mark, nor memories from a former life—will penetrate the heart I worked this hard to rebuild.
I had no choice when I decided to move back to Willow Creek. Despite it being where I grew up, it became obvious it was the only place I could defend myself as well as reach my goals.
It was the only place I could finish what I started after the scandal.
Still, I can’t say I haven’t been happy. People don’t treat me like the cautionary tale of a teacher gone wrong. Nor do they bring up my exploits when I was a student here, myself. But I did have to defend myself before the school board even though I knew I hadn’t done a thing wrong.
After all, I had proof.
I openly addressed the rumors. I didn’t walk into the school board meeting begging to be believed.
I walked in with timestamps. IP logs. Forensic confirmation.
In addition to Christin’s photography professor documenting that it was obvious from the angle of the photo, it had been taken without my consent, the girls got my former college roommate—Aio—involved since her work-study program was in the computer lab.
She determined my school account had been accessed from locations inconsistent with my activity for the previous two months—namely, the Delta Phi house.
I presented all of this evidence, including statements from my girls who had been with me at the time the photo was supposedly posted to .
The school board unanimously decided not only could I finish my teaching requirements but if I did so successfully, they were prepared to offer me a job.
I refused to waste a second of this gift.
I devoted myself to work. During the day, my mentor showed me how to manage a classroom without raising my voice, how to hold space for questions without letting anyone derail me.
At night, I studied to get my masters degree so I could qualify to hold different positions at higher education levels.
While I always thought becoming a math teacher was something I’d do because I was good at numbers, it became a calling. After all, it’s one of the few languages taught that can’t be interpreted by nuance. Equations either balance or they don’t. A solution is correct or it’s wrong.
Also, there’s no pain in numbers.
Despite the girls urging me to release the proof they’d collected, I wanted nothing else to do with Oklahoma Plains University. I didn’t want vindication. I wanted a life that didn’t require defending.
In Willow Creek, I found it. I’m now the youngest STEM teacher in county history. There are days I wonder if I would be the same teacher I am today had Brennan not destroyed me?
I’ll never know. I’d like to think so.
I’m proud of the woman I became after everything. Not because I didn’t fail but because I survived. No, I thrived. I found my purpose, my origin point. I keep my true friends close and occasionally date men who don’t need a dissertation before they kiss me.
But every single day, I choose myself.
Even when early on, I wondered if I should.
But teaching is, at its core, learning every day.
Having faith and resilience in yourself as well as your students.
Believing people are capable of more than they think they are.
You believe effort compounds. You believe that mistakes can be corrected.
Isn’t that why we do math with pencils and erasers?
Somewhere along the way, I learned to apply that grace to myself. My mind thinks of Mark Espias in town and his obvious regret. Part of me wonders who he could possibly believe would want to reach out. Then I set the thought of him aside.
Today is about me and my students. I refuse to give the past any more space in my head.
At least, that’s the lie I tell myself.