Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Leif
Aqueasy sense of dread fills me as I drop Quinn off at her classroom right as the first bell rings. Emily and Jared’s pheromones cling to my clothes, my hair, and my skin, woven into the fabric of my sweater from falling asleep on their couch last night.
With a wave, I clutch the leather strap as I turn and head down the hall, my shoes squeaking along the way from the puddle I stepped in on our way into the building from the parking lot. My socks squish with each step, adding to my plummeting mood.
The calendar notification had come through at five thirty this morning, reminding me of an eight o’clock meeting I’d somehow overlooked.
Usually, I go back to the hotel to shower and put on clothes that aren’t saturated in Alpha pheromones, but I had overslept and barely had enough time to make it to the docks to meet Quinn.
My heart hammers as I stride toward the faculty workspace at the end of the corridor, its frosted glass door revealing a shadow of movement within.
Carson is already here, waiting.
I pause, one hand on the door handle, and take three controlled breaths to settle my pulse.
The pheromone blockers I applied during my frantic morning rush offer minimal coverage.
Emily’s crushed clover scent rises from my skin with each elevated heartbeat, a beacon announcing where I spent the night.
The handle turns under my palm, and I step inside.
Carson sits at the conference table, a neat stack of folders arranged before him. His sandy hair catches the fluorescent light, freshly trimmed at the sides. He doesn’t lift his head as I enter, but his nostrils flare.
“Good morning,” I say. “Sorry, I’m late.”
Carson marks his place in a document with one finger before raising his head. “Traffic on Harbor Road again? That stretch is becoming quite problematic.”
The olive branch of a plausible excuse surprises me, and I latch onto it. “Yes, a delivery truck blocked the intersection.”
“You should move further into town,” he suggests. “Closer to the school.”
I stiffen at the suggestion. “Moving further away from the docks isn’t conducive to my job as Quinn’s nanny.”
Carson scoffs at that. “Really, how long are you going to keep demeaning yourself like this when there are better job opportunities at your fingertips?”
My hand tightens on the strap of my satchel. “I like it the way things are now.”
“Well, then. Let’s not keep you longer than necessary.” He gestures to the chair across from him, a casual invitation that doesn’t match the calculation in his gray-green eyes. “I’ve arranged the scheduling materials in order of priority. We should be able to move through them efficiently.”
The conference room shrinks as I take my seat, walls closing in with each breath Carson takes, each subtle inhale sampling Emily’s scent on my skin. The overhead fluorescents buzz, a persistent hum vibrating through my skull.
“I’ve completed the substitute request forms for next week,” I say, pulling papers from my bag to place on the table between us. The pages curl at the edges from the damp. “History and science, as requested.”
Carson pulls the forms toward him, scanning my neat handwriting. “You included copies of the lesson plans. Excellent. The department heads will appreciate the thoroughness.”
“I spoke with both teachers to ensure continuity,” I continue, settling into the familiar rhythm. Anticipating needs, creating systems, and maintaining order are what I’ve always excelled at. “Ms. Thompson provided digital copies of all lab materials, which I’ve uploaded to the shared drive.”
Carson writes a note in his planner, the quiet scratch-scratch grating on my nerves. “And the committee reports?”
I extract a folder from my bag, its edges crisp despite the rain. “Completed yesterday. The parent committee approved the service animal policy amendments with only two abstentions. The implementation timeline remains on schedule for January.”
His pen pauses, hovering above the page. “The board will be pleased. Your presentation last month was quite persuasive.”
My muscles tense at the praise. Carson never offers approval without purpose.
“Thank you.” I open my laptop and angle it so we can both see the screen that is already loaded with the spreadsheet of color-coded schedules. “I’ve drafted the rotation for hall monitoring during final exams. Faculty preferences are incorporated where possible.”
Carson leans forward to examine the screen, his cherries and iron pheromones washing over me. They’re stronger than usual, as if he’s trying to block out Emily’s scent on me.
“Very efficient,” he murmurs, tracing a column with his finger. “You’ve managed to accommodate Mrs. Linwood’s medical appointments without disrupting coverage.”
“The math department agreed to alternate lunch periods during exam week to fill the gaps,” I explain, scrolling through the document. “It required some negotiation, but everyone seemed satisfied with the arrangement.”
Carson sits back, folding his hands on the table. The window behind him frames a slate-gray sky, clouds hanging over the school grounds. Rain traces jagged paths down the glass, distorting the world outside.
“You have a gift for finding consensus, Leif,” he murmurs at last. “It’s a valuable trait in education administration.”
“I’ve also prepared Sprinkles’s quarterly progress report.” I slide another folder across the polished wood, this one thicker than the others. “All documentation is included, including Sprinkles’s updated training certification.”
Carson accepts the folder without opening it. “You continue to exceed expectations. Quinn’s integration has become a model case for the district.”
“She’s done the hard work,” I reply, careful not to claim too much credit. “Her resilience makes my job easier.”
“Indeed.” Carson taps the folder onto the table to align its edges. “Speaking of Quinn, Blake mentioned she’s been invited to a classmate’s birthday party next weekend. A positive development.”
The casual reference to his conversation with Blake sends a cold trickle down my spine. Carson maintains his connections to the Wright Pack, gathering information I haven’t shared with him.
“Yes,” I confirm. “She couldn’t go to the last one she was invited to, but Blake is coordinating with the host family regarding Sprinkles so she can attend this one.”
“Wonderful.” Carson slides the progress report into his leather portfolio. “Social integration is a crucial metric for assessing accommodation success.”
Carson’s nostrils flare again, and I cringe. Emily’s scent surrounds us both, an invisible third presence in the room. Carson knows. I know he knows. And he knows I know he knows.
“The documentation for next month’s parent-teacher conferences is in your inbox,” Carson continues, smooth as polished stone. “I took the liberty of scheduling you for back-to-back sessions on Thursday. I hope that works with your availability.”
Not a question, but I respond anyway. “Of course. I’ll prepare individual portfolios for each meeting.”
“I expected nothing less.” Carson checks the subtle gold timepiece on his wrist. “You’ve met every requirement I’ve established, often exceeding expectations.”
I damn well better. I’ve been jumping through hoops of increasing height, each success rewarded with another, more difficult assignment.
“I try to be thorough,” I say.
Carson closes his portfolio. “Which is why you’re such an asset to Pinecrest Academy. Your dedication to Quinn’s success, to the school’s reputation, and to the standards we uphold is commendable.”
“Thank you.” I gather my papers, shuffling them into neat piles.
“I believe we’ve covered everything for today,” Carson says, his attention already on his phone. “Unless there’s anything else you’d like to discuss?”
The question hangs in the air between us, an opportunity to acknowledge what we’ve both been ignoring. Emily’s scent. My personal life. The boundaries I’ve crossed.
“No,” I reply, sliding my laptop into my bag. “That’s everything.”
Carson studies me, the silence stretching thin as spun glass. “Very well. I’ll see you at tomorrow’s faculty meeting.”
“See you tomorrow.” The door might as well be miles away as I walk toward it, Carson’s stare burning between my shoulder blades.
My hand closes around the handle, heartbeats from escape.
Carson’s voice stops me at the threshold. “Actually, Leif, if you could stay a moment longer.”
I pause in the doorway, hand still on the knob, and turn back with reluctance. “Yes?”
He gestures to my vacated seat. “There’s one more matter I’d like to discuss.”
My stomach drops as I step back into the room, the door clicking shut behind me. I return to my chair, the legs scraping across the floor as I pull it out.
Carson waits until I’m seated before leaning back, his posture a study in casualness. He taps his pen on the edge of the table. One, two, three. Pause. One, two, three.
“I couldn’t help but notice you’re carrying quite a distinctive Alpha scent today.” His nostrils flare again, more obvious this time. “Quite potent, if I’m being honest.”
Heat crawls up my neck to settle in my cheeks. “It’s not...”
Not what? Not important? Not serious? Not his business?
Carson waves away my attempt at an explanation. “Your personal life is your own, of course. However...” He sets the pen down, aligning it parallel to his portfolio. “As educators, we must consider how our choices affect our professional standing.”
I fold my hands in my lap to hide their trembling. “I don’t believe my personal associations impact my work with Quinn.”
“Don’t they?” Carson tilts his head, regarding me with what might pass for concern if I didn’t know better.
“You occupy a unique position at the Academy, Leif. As an Omega in a visible role, your conduct receives heightened scrutiny. Just look at what happened back in Westbrook, and you didn’t even do anything wrong back then. ”