Chapter 3 — Katherine
I wake up at five in the morning thinking about Holt's hand on mine.
His fingers brushing over my knuckles, so quick I might have imagined it except I didn't imagine the way my breath caught.
I lie in bed staring at the ceiling and replay the entire evening.
I give up on sleep at five-thirty.
Shower, dress in leggings and a burgundy tunic that's looser than yesterday's but still doesn't hide the curve of my hips or the soft weight of my stomach. I stopped trying to dress like my body is a problem years ago.
I make coffee and drink it while the sun comes up, trying to figure out what I'm doing.
Holt is Louis's father. He's part of Vigil MC. Being near him makes me visible to Marrow. I should probably step back.
I don't want to step back.
I want to know what would have happened if he'd actually taken my hand instead of just brushing it. I want to know what his voice sounds like when he's not being cautious.
I'm at school by seven. The building is empty. I unlock my classroom and the piano is sitting in the corner where it always is, slightly out of tune but playable.
I sit down and start working through a piece I learned in college. My fingers remember better than my brain does.
The sound fills the empty room and I close my eyes and let it take up all the space in my head that was occupied by thoughts of Holt.
I'm halfway through the second movement when I feel it.
Someone is watching.
I finish the phrase and turn around.
Holt is standing in my doorway.
He's wearing jeans and boots and a dark grey t-shirt that makes it very clear he has broad shoulders and a solid chest and arms that could probably lift me without effort. His hair is slightly damp like he just showered. He's holding Louis's backpack in one hand.
I stand up from the bench and my heart is suddenly racing. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Is Louis okay?"
"He's fine. He left his backpack in my truck last night. Thought I'd bring it before he gets here."
"Oh. That's thoughtful."
"Also wanted to see you."
The honesty of it catches me off guard. "Oh."
We look at each other. He's in the doorway. I'm by the piano. There's maybe fifteen feet between us but it feels like less.
"You're here early," he says.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Neither could I."
The way he says it makes it clear we couldn't sleep for the same reason. The air in the room changes.
His gaze moves over me and I feel it like a touch, the way his eyes drop to my hips before coming back to my face.
"You play well," he says.
"I'm rusty."
"Didn't sound rusty."
He steps into the classroom and sets Louis's backpack on a desk. Then he walks toward me and I hold very still.
He stops three feet away, close enough that I can see the scar through his eyebrow and the fact that his jaw is tight like he's deciding something.
"I've been thinking about you," he says.
My throat is dry. "I've been thinking about you too."
"This is complicated."
"I know."
"You're Louis's teacher."
"I know."
"And I can't promise being near me is safe."
"I know that too."
He looks at me for a long moment and something shifts in his expression. He takes a step closer and now there's maybe two feet between us and I can smell him, soap and something underneath that's just him.
"Katherine," he says, and the way he says my name makes my stomach tighten.
A door opens down the hall.
The sound cuts through everything. Holt steps back immediately. I turn toward the piano like I was just standing here looking at sheet music. Jenny's voice calls out a cheerful good morning from somewhere near the front office.
Holt and I look at each other.
His jaw is still tight and his eyes are dark and I know exactly what would have happened if that door hadn't opened.
"I should go," he says.
"Okay."
He doesn't move for another second. Then he turns and walks out of my classroom and I hear his footsteps in the hallway and then the back door opening and closing.
I sit down on the piano bench because my legs don't feel steady.
Jenny appears in my doorway thirty seconds later, holding her coffee mug and looking bright-eyed despite the early hour. "You're here early."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Same. I have parent conferences all day and I'm dreading it." She leans against the doorframe. "Was that Louis Fischer's dad I saw leaving?"
My face feels warm. "He was dropping off Louis's backpack."
"Huh. He's not usually the early drop-off type."
"Louis left it in his truck last night."
"Right." She takes a sip of her coffee and looks at me with the specific attention of someone who has known me for two years and can tell when something is different. "You okay? You look flushed."
"I'm fine. Just warm from playing."
She accepts this even though the classroom is not warm. "Well, I've got to prep for the conferences. Let me know if you need anything."
She leaves and I sit at the piano for another five minutes trying to get my heartbeat to slow down.
The rest of the morning is a blur. I teach kindergarten at eight, first grade at nine, second grade at ten.
The kids are loud and energetic and I go through the motions while replaying the moment in my classroom when Holt was standing two feet away from me and the only thing that stopped whatever was about to happen was Jenny's door opening down the hall.
Third grade is at eleven. Louis is in this class.
He comes in with the rest of the students and waves at me like he always does, completely himself, and I smile back and try not to think about the fact that his father was in this room three hours ago looking at me like he wanted something he wasn't sure he should take.
We work on rhythm patterns.
Louis is good at this, precise and focused, tapping out the beats with the same careful attention his father brings to everything.
I help a girl named Emma who keeps getting confused on the sixteenth notes. I keep the class moving and on task and I do not think about Holt.
Except I do think about Holt. The whole time.
Lunch is at noon.
I eat in my classroom like I always do and check my phone for the first time since this morning. There's a text from an unknown number sent fifteen minutes ago.
This is Holt. Got your number from the school directory. Can I call you later?
I stare at the message for thirty seconds. Then I type back.
Yes.
His response comes immediately.
After Louis is asleep. Around nine.
Okay.
I put my phone down and eat my sandwich without tasting it.
The afternoon passes slower than the morning. Fourth and fifth grade combined, then sixth grade, and by three o'clock when the last bus leaves I'm exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with teaching.
I stay until four organizing the sheet music that's been on the floor for three days.
By the time I'm done the floor is clean and my filing system is restored and the sun is already going down outside.
I drive home and make dinner I barely eat. Shower again even though I showered this morning. Change into yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Sit on my couch with a book I don't read.
At nine o'clock my phone rings.
I answer on the second ring. "Hi."
"Hi." His voice sounds different on the phone, lower somehow. "Is this a good time?"
"Yes."
There's a pause. I hear background noise on his end that might be wind or might be nothing.
"I'm outside," he says.
I stand up from the couch. "Outside where?"
"Your house."
I walk to the front window and look out. His truck is parked at the curb. I can see him sitting in the driver's seat with his phone to his ear.
"Why are you outside?" I ask.
"Because I wanted to see you and I didn't want to wait until tomorrow."
My heart is pounding. "Where's Louis?"
"Ray's nephew is at my house. Louis knows him. He's safe."
I should tell him this is too fast. I should tell him we need to slow down. I walk to the front door and open it instead. "Come in."
He ends the call and gets out of the truck. I watch him walk up my front path and climb the three steps to my porch. He stops in the doorway and we look at each other.
"Hi," I say.
"Hi."
I step back and he comes in and I close the door behind him.
He's wearing the same jeans and t-shirt from this morning and he smells like leather and night air and I want to touch him so badly my hands are shaking.
"Do you want something to drink?" I ask.
"No."
"Do you want to sit down?"
"No."
We're standing in my entryway and he's looking at me with the same expression he had in my classroom this morning before Jenny's door opened. Dark eyes and tight jaw and the specific stillness of someone who is holding himself back.
"Katherine," he says.
"Yes."
"I'm going to kiss you now. If you don't want that, tell me."
I don't tell him.
He steps closer and his hand comes up to cup the side of my face, his palm warm against my cheek, his thumb brushing my jaw.
He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away, and when I don't he closes the distance and his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is nothing like I expected.
It's not gentle. It's not tentative. It's deep and sure and claiming, his mouth moving against mine like he's been thinking about this as long as I have.
His other hand comes to my waist and pulls me closer and I make a sound I don't recognize as mine. His hand on my waist slides to my hip and he grips me there, his fingers pressing into the soft give of my body, and I feel the want in him like something physical.
I kiss him back with everything I have.
My hands fist in his shirt and I pull him closer even though there's no more closer to get. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I taste him and feel the rumble of a sound he makes low in his chest.
The hand on my face slides into my hair and he angles my head back and kisses me deeper.
We break apart only when we both need air. His forehead drops to mine and we're both breathing hard.
"I've wanted to do that since yesterday," he says.
"Me too."
"This is still complicated."
"I know."
"I don't know what I'm doing."
"Neither do I."
He pulls back enough to look at me. His hand is still in my hair and his other hand is still on my hip and I'm pressed against him from chest to thigh and I can feel the solid weight of his body against mine.
"I should probably go," he says.
"Probably."
He doesn't move. Neither do I. We stand in my entryway looking at each other and I watch him make a decision.
"I'm not going," he says.
"Okay."
He kisses me again.