Chapter 8
Jenna
Molly’s essay sits on my desk, all marked up by my red pen. It’s truly fucked up to fail her essay—when at worst, it might’ve been a B.
But it is what it is. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I straighten my shoulders as the knock on the door hits precisely five minutes early. She’s a punctual student, which shows her dedication.
And that’s exactly why she should be open to tutoring.
It’s still a risk, yeah. But calculated.
“Come in,” I call out when the knock comes a second time. I keep the smile on my face as the door swings open. However, my heart instantly skips a beat as my eyes meet a pair of stark blues beneath a black a cowboy hat.
What the fuck?
I barely even register that Molly has entered the room or that I’m not breathing, as his eyes bore into mine.
“Dr. Williams, this is my dad, Calvin Bradford.” Molly’s voice sounds distant. “I just brought him for moral support, if that’s okay…”
I snap my face back to hers, realizing that she’s already sitting in the chair across from me—the same one I was in when I first met her. “Oh, yeah… Of course.”
“He’ll just stand in the hallway,” Molly says, her tone rushed and nervous as her knee bounces across from me. “I just have never had something like this happen. He’s moral support only. He didn’t even want to come.”
I take a deep breath, and collect myself, giving her a sympathetic look.
“He’s more than welcome to join us.” I force my eyes to bounce to the man, hovering outside the open doorway.
“In fact, maybe it would be good for you to actually join us instead of loitering outside… Mr. Bradford, I assume?” It feels robotic, what I’m doing, while internally, I’m about to lose it.
I know this man knows my brother.
Could he know me, too? Has Cade mentioned anything about me?
The man steps forward into the room, and closes the door behind him, sucking all the oxygen out of here with him. His hat is low on his head, casting a dark shadow across his face that’s intimidating in and of itself.
I can hardly focus, as he leans his back against the door, his hands shoved in the front of his black jacket. And then his eyes laser in on me.
He cocks a brow. “You’re the new professor, huh?”
I clear my throat, feeling a bead of sweat roll down my spine. “Yeah, I’m just here while Dr. Shannon is gone on maternity leave.”
His lips form a straight line. “Hmm.”
“She looks familiar to me,” Molly shakes her head, letting out a sigh. “I can’t tell why.”
I force a smile, my stomach knotting up. “Well, I just have one of those faces.”
“Don’t think so.” Calvin’s voice is barely audible.
I want to press, unsure of how he means it, but instead, I just pull out my copy of Molly’s essay. “Anyway, let’s talk about your essay.”
Molly straightens in her chair, fingers lacing together in her lap. “I—I didn’t think it was that bad,” she says quietly. “I mean, I followed the prompt.”
“You did,” I say gently, tapping the paper once. “And that’s important. But following the prompt and fully engaging with the text are two different things.”
Bullshit. It’s all bullshit.
Calvin doesn’t move, but I feel his attention sharpen on me, once more. I’m under a freaking microscope right now, and as much as I want to scream at him to tell me where the hell my brother is…
I keep my mouth shut. And my thighs clenched.
I slide the essay closer to Molly, angling it so she can see the red marks. “Your summary of the plot is solid. You clearly understand what happens in Romeo and Juliet. Where the essay falls short is in the analysis.”
Molly frowns. “The analysis?”
“Yes,” I continue, ignoring the cotton feeling in my mouth as Calvin shifts in my peripheral.
“You make some interesting observations—about impulsiveness, about young love—but you don’t quite push them far enough.
For example, here.” I point to a paragraph near the middle.
“You mention fate, but you never commit to an argument about whether fate actually controls the characters, or whether they use it as an excuse for their choices.”
“Oh,” she murmurs. “I thought that was kind of implied.”
“It can’t be implied,” I gain confidence. “At this level, you have to be explicit. You need a clear thesis and consistent textual evidence to support it.”
Calvin shifts his weight against the door and this time actually opens his mouth. “So… you’re saying it’s not wrong. Just underdeveloped.”
I glance at him and then away, as my cheeks heat up, managing a nod.
“Exactly. There are also a few technical issues—run-on sentences, inconsistent citations, and some paragraphs that drift from the main point. None of that is unusual,” I add quickly, meeting Molly’s eyes again.
“But taken together, it shows you need more guidance than this essay demonstrates.”
Molly’s shoulders slump. “I’ve never failed an essay before.”
“I know. I’m sure you haven’t,” I say, keeping my voice calm and measured. “And that’s why I wanted to meet with you. I don’t think this reflects your ability. I think it reflects that you’re capable of more than what’s on the page. I think you’re really bright, highly intelligent, and driven.”
She hesitates. “So… is there anything I can do to get better, or will my writing always be a weakness?”
“There is something we can do,” I reply, right on cue. “I offer one-on-one tutoring for students who want to strengthen their analytical writing. We can go over how to build a stronger thesis, how to integrate quotes effectively, and how to deepen your interpretations.”
Molly looks relieved, immediately letting out a heavy breath. “That would really help. I don’t want this to happen again. I can’t fail. I’ll never get into law school.”
“Then even more reason to work on it,” I say, feeling some of the tension slip from my body. “You’re clearly dedicated. This is just about refining your approach, and if you want to be a lawyer, it’s all about the approach.”
From behind her, Calvin’s voice cuts in, gruff and intimidating. “And the grade, Dr. Williams, how about that?”
“This essay stands as is,” I answer evenly. “But improvement moving forward can absolutely impact her overall performance in the course. I don’t think it would be fair to have you redo this, as I wasn’t present for the lectures. However, I’m sure there’s bonus work available.”
There’s a beat of silence. Calvin’s eyes narrow slightly, his jaw tightening. “I don’t usually see the reason to let anyone just fail when they’re clearly trying,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Especially not my kid.”
I feel a prickling at the back of my neck, the heat of his gaze like it could sear through steel.
“I understand your concern,” I say, forcing my voice to remain level.
“But this isn’t personal. It’s academic.
My goal is to ensure Molly succeeds moving forward.
I think it would be useless to have her redo this particular essay. ”
Molly nods, the tension between her father and I almost palpable, though she doesn’t seem to notice. “Okay. I’ll do the tutoring.”
“Good,” I say, offering a reassuring smile. “We’ll get you where you need to be. We just need to set up a time that works for you. I can align it with my office hours, though I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of spare time. I’m open to making evenings work.”
I don’t look at Calvin as I say it, but I can feel him watching me.
“There’s a lot stuff happening around here, and I don’t like hanging out on campus any more than I have to,” Molly purses her lips and slumps in the chair.
“Would you be open to… like, meeting me at my house for this? We don’t live that far from campus.
It’s just beside the tree farm. I’ll make you coffee or something. ”
Calvin immediately bristles. “Uh, I don’t think—”
“I think that would be fine,” I cut him off, keeping my tone professional but firm. “I’m always happy to get off campus. The library is not great. This whole place feels gloomy.”
“Perfect,” Molly breathes out. “It is so bad here. I swear the lighting reminds me of a horror movie.”
I let out a genuine laugh. “I completely agree.”
Calvin shifts again, his shadow falling across my desk. “You’re sure you really feel it necessary to go into a student’s home?” he asks calmly, but the edge in his voice makes it clear it’s more of a challenge than a question.
“I’m more than happy to meet wherever Molly,” I gesture to his daughter, “Feels comfortable. If that’s in her own home, then that’s okay with me.”
“Dad,” Molly turns to him, her voice chiding. “I don’t want to meet on campus. It’s creepy, and you know that. You never want me here after hours. You’ve said it’s not safe with all the gang activity.”
Gang activity? In BFE, Colorado?
My mind spins, but Calvin doesn’t miss a beat, addressing Molly.
“Maybe it would be better to do it at your mom’s.”
Molly rolls her eyes. “No, it wouldn’t. Mark is there, and it’s too far from campus. That’s not being very thoughtful, Dad. It’s just an hour of her time. It’s not even like we’re paying for it. You said it was up to me to figure this out, anyway. You’re just moral support.”
Calvin gives her a look but doesn’t say anything else to her, turning to me instead. “I’d prefer that the sessions be as early in the day as possible.”
“It’ll be fine,” Molly waves him off as I open my mouth. “I can seriously make anything after four work, any day, if that works for you.”
I hold back my laugh. “I think four-thirty on any day will work for me.”
“Awesome. Can we start tomorrow?” Molly beams, oblivious to the tension lingering between her father and me.
“I can fit that in.”
“Thank you so much for being so helpful,” she immediately replies, her voice warm. “You have no idea how much I appreciate your honesty and willingness to help me with my future.”
“Of course,” I choke out, my hands starting to sweat from my lies—or something. “I think we can make some solid progress.”
Calvin studies me for a long moment, as Molly stands to her feet. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about the fact he’s glaring a hole through my face.
It’s like the first time ever someone acts like they can’t look away from me.
And naturally, it’s in the most brutal, intimidating way.
Finally, I clear my throat from pure nerves. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Molly.”
Calvin tilts his hat back slightly as he opens the door for his daughter, exposing the sharp line of his eyes. “I’ll see you then, too, Dr. Williams.”
I nod at the two of them as they exit, my chest feeling tight. I have no idea what the hell I’m getting myself into, but I sure as hell hope it leads to Cade.
Otherwise, I might just be playing with fire for nothing.