Blake
My truck feels too small with Mia's anxiety filling every inch of available space. Her hands twist in her lap, fingers knotting and unknotting in a rhythm that matches my accelerating heartbeat. I keep my eyes on the road, but my peripheral vision catches every nervous movement she makes.
We decided Jack, as a school principal, shouldn't go to the elementary school and Noah used to substitute there, so he stayed behind as well.
"They're going to be okay," I say, trying to inject confidence I don't entirely feel into my voice. "Kids get into fights. It happens."
"Not my kids." Her voice cracks on the last word. "Rory and Corey don't fight. They're good boys. They're ..."
She trails off and I risk a glance at her. Tears streak down her cheeks, catching the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windshield. My chest tightens with the urge to pull over and hold her, but Riverside Elementary is only two minutes away.
"I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I don't usually cry so easily. I guess it's just everything, with Emma and now this."
I understand and try to change the subject a little. "I didn't know you had kids."
She nods. "Twin boys. They're nine."
"Why didn't you say anything? Do the others know?" I keep my tone gentle, non-accusatory.
She shakes her head again. "No. I haven't said anything because everything is already so complicated. Because I didn't want you to think I was using you or that I expected anything. Because I'm terrified of what happens when people find out. I don't want my sons caught up in the gossip about me."
I reach over and squeeze her hand. Her fingers are ice cold despite the warm day. "Hey. Look at me."
She turns those blue eyes on me, swimming with tears and fear.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her firmly. "You having kids doesn't change how I feel about you. If anything, it makes me respect you more. Raising twins alone? That takes serious strength."
A small, watery smile crosses her face. "You say that now. Wait until you meet them."
"I'm looking forward to it."
And I mean it. The revelation should probably freak me out more than it does.
I'm falling for a woman with two kids, involved in an unconventional relationship with two other men, and carrying enough baggage to fill a freight train.
But somehow, none of that matters as much as the way she looks at me with hope breaking through her fear.
I pull into the elementary school parking lot and cut the engine. The building is smaller than Riverside Academy, a single-story with cheerful murals painted on the exterior walls. Since the school is closed, the parking lot is mostly empty.
Inside, the secretary directs us to the principal's office with a sympathetic smile that makes my stomach clench. Whatever happened must be bad if we're getting the sympathy treatment.
Principal Henderson is a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. She stands when we enter, gesturing to the chairs across from her desk.
"Miss Wilson. Thank you for coming so quickly." Her gaze shifts to me with polite curiosity.
"This is Blake Morgan," Mia says. "He's a colleague and friend."
Friend. The word stings a little, but I understand why she's keeping our relationship vague.
"Mr. Morgan." Principal Henderson nods at me before returning her attention to Mia. "I'm afraid we had an incident today involving your sons."
Mia's back goes rigid. "What kind of incident?"
"Rory punched another student at the campground. When a teacher intervened, Corey jumped in to defend his brother. Both boys ended up in trouble and were sent back here."
"Rory punched someone?" Mia's voice rises with disbelief. "That's not like him at all. What happened? What provoked it?"
Principal Henderson's expression softens with something that looks like pity. "According to witnesses, the other student made some crude comments about you. Speculations about why you left Riverside years ago and recently returned."
The color drains from Mia's face. I reach over and take her hand, squeezing gently.
"What kind of comments?" I ask when Mia seems unable to speak.
Principal Henderson shifts uncomfortably. "The kind that nine-year-old boys shouldn't be repeating. I suspect they overheard their parents gossiping."
"Jesus." I run my free hand through my hair. Small towns and their damn rumor mills.
"Where are they now?" Mia's voice is barely above a whisper.
"In the nurse's office. They're not injured, just shaken up.
The other student has a bloody nose but nothing serious.
" Principal Henderson leans forward, her expression sympathetic.
"Miss Wilson, I understand this is difficult.
But we have a zero-tolerance policy for physical violence.
Both boys are suspended for three days."
Mia nods mechanically. "I understand. Can I see them?"
"Of course. But first, the other student's parents are waiting in the conference room. They'd like to speak with you."
My protective instincts kick into overdrive. "Is that necessary? The kids were defending their mother's honor."
"I appreciate that, Mr. Morgan. But school policy requires a meeting between all parties involved." Principal Henderson stands. "I'll be present to mediate."
The conference room is small and stuffy, made worse by the hostile energy radiating from the couple sitting across the table. The woman has her arms crossed over her chest, her mouth pressed into a thin line of disapproval. The man looks equally unimpressed.
"Mr. and Mrs. Patterson," Principal Henderson begins. "This is Miss Wilson and Mr. Morgan."
"We know who she is." Mrs. Patterson's voice drips with disdain. "The whole town knows who Mia Wilson is."
Mia flinches like she's been slapped. I squeeze her hand harder, anchoring her. God, small towns can be so judgmental!
"Your son made inappropriate comments about Miss Wilson," I say, keeping my voice level despite the anger simmering in my gut. "Comments he clearly heard from adults who should know better than to gossip in front of children."
Mr. Patterson's face reddens. "Are you accusing us of something?"
"I'm stating facts. Nine-year-olds don't come up with crude speculation on their own."
"That doesn't excuse violence," Mrs. Patterson snaps. "Your sons attacked our boy."
"One punch isn't an attack," I counter. "It's a kid defending his mother's honor after being provoked."
"Blake." Mia's voice is quiet but firm. She turns to the Pattersons, her spine straightening.
"I apologize for my sons' behavior. Fighting is never acceptable, and they'll be disciplined at home as well as at school.
But I hope you'll also address with your son why making cruel comments about someone's mother might provoke a reaction. "
The Pattersons exchange glances. Some of the hostility drains from Mrs. Patterson's expression, replaced by grudging respect.
"Fine," she says stiffly. "We'll talk to him."
The meeting ends shortly after. Principal Henderson leads us to the nurse's office where two identical boys sit on the examination table, their legs swinging nervously. They both have dark hair like Mia's and fair skin dusted with freckles. But it's their eyes that stop me cold.
Hazel. With distinctive gold flecks that catch the fluorescent lighting.
The same unusual shade as Jack's eyes.
"Mom!" They both jump off the table and rush to Mia, wrapping their arms around her waist. She holds them tight, her face buried in their hair.
"Are you okay?" she asks, pulling back to examine them. "Are you hurt?"
"We're fine," the slightly taller one says. His voice carries more confidence, more bravado. "That kid deserved it for saying those things about you."
"Rory." Mia's tone is stern but her eyes are soft. "We don't hit people, no matter what they say."
"But Mom—"
"No buts. What you did was wrong." She turns to the other twin, who's been quieter, his eyes downcast. "Corey, you too. I appreciate you defending your brother, but fighting isn't the answer."
"We're sorry," Corey whispers.
Mia sighs and pulls them both close again. "I know you are. We'll talk more at home. Go get your backpacks."
The twins scurry off, leaving Mia and me alone in the nurse's office. She sinks into a chair, her head in her hands.
"This is a nightmare," she mutters. "They've never been in trouble before. Never."
I crouch in front of her, my hands on her knees. "Hey. They were defending you. That shows they love you and have strong moral compasses. We just need to teach them better ways to handle situations like this."
"We?" She looks up, her blue eyes searching mine.
"Yeah. We." I stand and pull her to her feet. "I'm here, Mia. For all of this."
The twins return with their backpacks, eyeing me with open curiosity. Up close, the resemblance to Jack is even more striking. The shape of their faces, the way they tilt their heads when thinking, even the way Rory's fingers drum against his leg while he waits.
"Who are you?" Rory asks with the bluntness only kids can pull off.
"I'm Blake. I work with your mom at the high school."
"Are you her boyfriend?" Corey's question is quieter but equally direct.
Mia's face flushes pink. "Blake is a friend and colleague. That's all you need to know right now."
"But—"
"Truck. Now. Both of you."
The drive to Mia's apartment is tense. The twins whisper to each other in the back cab seat while Mia stares out the window, lost in thought.
Jack's eyes. Jack's mannerisms. Jack's gestures. These boys are his sons. They have to be. Mia did say she's known Jack for practically forever.
At Mia's apartment, she unlocks the door and ushers the twins inside. "Go to your room. I'll be there in a minute to discuss your punishment."
They trudge down the hallway, shoulders slumped. Mia closes the door and leans against it, exhaustion written across every line of her body.
"Thank you for coming with me," she says. She looks up at me, and for a moment, I forget about the revelation burning in my chest. All I see is this beautiful, complicated woman who's been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders for too long.
Then Rory appears in the hallway. "Mom, can we have a snack?"
"In a minute, baby." Mia steps back from me, creating distance. "Let me talk to Mr. Morgan first."
Rory disappears back into his room. Mia gestures to the couch and we sit, the space between us feeling charged with unspoken questions.
"They're good kids," I say, breaking the silence. "A little hotheaded maybe, but good hearts."
"They are." Pride softens her features. "They're my whole world."
I study her face, looking for the right way to ask what I need to know. But there's no easy way to broach this subject.
"Mia." I keep my voice gentle. "I noticed something about the twins."
Her body tenses immediately. "What?"
"Their eyes. The way they move. The way Rory drums his fingers just like..." I trail off, watching her face drain of color. "Just like Jack does."
She stands abruptly, pacing to the window. Her arms wrap around herself in a protective gesture that makes my chest ache.
"Mia." I stand and move behind her, close but not touching. "Does Jack know these are his sons?"