Chapter 10
Jenna
Mom: Are you sure everything is good?
I glance around the shitty, mostly empty studio apartment I’m renting on a monthly basis now, my stomach swirling with nerves.
Me: Yes. I’m sure. Call you later. Love you.
I send the text before I can change my mind about it and slip out the door. I had just enough time to run home, shower, and change before going to the tutoring session at the Bradford’s place.
And honestly? I have no idea why I felt the need to do all that.
But something about being around a bunch of college kids all day makes me feel grimy. Or maybe I just wanted to, for a moment, feel like I’m Jenna Kellan. Not Dr. Jenna Williams, the snooty lit professor.
Which is why I opted for my jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers.
I head out then, locking the crappy door behind me. Sliding into my car, I take a deep breath and turn the key. The engine hums to life, a small comfort in the creeping dread I can’t seem to shake.
Everything is going to be fine.
I repeat that as I navigate the empty streets. The drive to the Bradfords isn’t long—maybe twenty minutes—but every turn makes my nerves spike. I rehearse what I’ll say to Molly, how I’ll guide her through her essay. I’ll be professional.
Professional.
The word tastes bitter in my mouth for some reason.
The road to the Bradfords’ winds through a patchwork of fields of trees, and soon I’m greeted by the sight of their log cabin perched on a slight hill, smoke curling from the chimney. It’s picturesque, and I can’t help but notice the way it’s almost so welcoming that it seems ironic.
Especially given that I have no idea what kind of gatekeeper Calvin Bradford will be. He doesn’t seem like the trusting type.
Still, I pull up and park along the gravel driveway. I sit for a moment, exhaling slowly. The cabin’s warm light spills into yard, casting shadows across the ground. I gather my notes, double-check them, and take another breath.
I can do this. It’s just tutoring. I’m just getting a feel for everything tonight.
That’s it.
As I note the black truck and Jeep in front of me, the front door swings open. Molly bounds out like she’s been waiting for me forever, and I force myself to exit my own car.
“You made it!” she says, a smile on her face. “I already have the coffee ready for you. It’s totally freezing out here.”
“Yeah,” I give her a nod, clutching my tutoring materials as I head toward the front porch. I only made it three years into being an English major before I dropped out.
And I’m hoping like hell it’s enough to get me through this.
“My dad is somewhere around here,” Molly starts talking as soon as my feet land on the composite wood decking. “He’s totally the avoidant type, you know?”
“I know the type,” I keep a fake smile on my face, as whisps of my hair break loose from the clip in my hair. Molly reaches for the door and pulls it open, a blast of warmth instantly wrapping around me.
I step inside, and take it in. The interior of the cabin smells like wood smoke and pine. It’s cozy in a way that immediately puts me at an ease I don’t expect. She leads me to a small table by the window, fog dotting the glass outside.
“Sorry about the mess,” she says, waving vaguely around the room. “My dad’s guys are always in and out when I’m not around.”
Maybe Cade is one of them.
I place my bag on the floor and pull out her essay, flipping it open carefully, as if what she said doesn’t mean a thing to me. “No worries. This space is perfect.”
Molly slides into her chair, excitement and nervous energy crackling off her. “I really want to get this right, Dr. Williams. I mean, I hate failing—even if it was just one essay. I was thinking about what you said. The approach really does matter.”
I smile softly, trying to calm both her nerves and my own. “I agree… But first, we’ll focus on strengthening your analysis. Let’s look at your thesis, your argument structure, and how you’re integrating evidence.”
She nods eagerly, and we lean into the work, papers spread across the table. Time passes, or at least it feels like it. The cozy cabin, the light snow flurries falling outside… It almost lulls me into a false sense of calm.
Like I’m really Dr. Jenna Williams out to help a student who needs it.
Not Jenna Kellan, the woman who came from pure fucking chaos.
“I think this is better,” Molly slides what she has across the table to me, but before I can read it, a blast of cold air sweeps through the room.
I turn as the door swings open, cutting through the quiet like a gunshot. I freeze on the spot, my breath catching in my throat. Calvin Bradford steps in, hat in hand, jacket dusted with snow, eyes instantly locking onto me.
My eyes drop down to the paper and my stomach clenches…among other things I refuse to acknowledge.
“Evening, Dr. Williams,” he says, his voice calm, but with that edge that feels like a knife. He doesn’t move further inside as he shuts the door, pausing to hover just inside.
Molly stiffens beside me, and I force myself to look up, forcing my expression neutral. “Mr. Bradford,” I stutter. “Nice to see you.”
He studies me, his eyes moving across my face slow and deliberate. “I see my daughter failed to get you that coffee she promised.”
“Whoops.” Molly shoves her chair back from the table. “I am so sorry. I swear, I made some…”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her, ripping my gaze from her father and back to her. “I completely forgot about it. It’s not a big deal at all.”
“I’ll get it,” Calvin stops Molly from standing, holding a hand up. “You keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
Molly makes a face at him. “Tutoring, you mean.”
“Right,” Calvin chuckles, his lips turning slightly upward in a smile.
And watching the almost curve, has me on the edge of my seat. It’s like waiting for something that will probably never come, but the suspense is there anyway. I shake it off, and then drop my attention back to the essay, trying to remember my talking points again.
“What do you want?”
“Huh?” I snap my eyes back up, my brows furrowing.
Calvin gives me a weird look, holding up a mug I didn’t realize he ever filled. “In your coffee?”
“Oh… Um… Creamer?”
“Give her the hazelnut,” Molly chimes, as Calvin opens the fridge. “The sugar free vanilla tastes awful.” She turns to me. “Trust me.”
“I trust you.” I run finger over the essay in front of me, avoiding the sight of the cowboy at the fridge.
“Dr. Williams, you want the hazelnut?” His voice causes my hand to jerk slightly.
“Yes, please,” I choke out. Why is he so startling?
“Just making sure,” he says, fixing it and then setting the mug down in front of me. My eyes flicker upward, as I catch a scent of pine and cedar and something masculine. His gaze holds mine, but just for a split second, and then he backs away.
His presence is fucking suffocating.
“Thank you.” I take a deep breath, trying to regain control of my nerves as I address Molly.
“Let’s get back to work,” I say, sliding the essay toward her.
She exhales, looking grateful, and picks up her pencil again.
I glance toward Calvin, who is leaning back against the counter now, still observing us.
The session resumes, but now every word I speak, every gesture I make, is under his watchful eye. It feels like a subtle game, this tension, and I have no idea why he seems so intrigued by my existence…
Unless he suspects something.
I push the thought away. “This sentence here,” I say to Molly, tapping the page, forcing my voice to remain even. “You’re circling an interesting idea, but you hesitate to claim it. You need to be bolder with your stance. Again, don’t imply, just state.”
“So… more confident?” Molly asks.
“Yes, but in the wording itself,” I answer, but my eyes shift toward Calvin without permission. He’s still watching me, sipping his coffee.
Why does he just stare at me? What point is he trying to make?
His eyes flicker with something that sends a strange pulse through my veins. It’s restrained. Controlled. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing just by standing there, mentally picking me apart.
I shift again, crossing my legs, instantly regretting it when his gaze drops—just for a fraction of a second—before snapping back to my face. My pulse stutters. Again.
Focus. Stop being so weird, Jenna. He’s an enemy for all you know.
Molly scribbles notes, oblivious, while Calvin pushes off the counter and moves closer under the pretense of refilling his mug.
“You always tutor at students’ homes?” he asks casually, lifting his mug to his lips and taking a sip.
“Only when necessary,” I reply, keeping my eyes on Molly’s paper. “Some students benefit from a quieter environment. Or you know, apparently the campus doesn’t seem safe, I guess.”
“Hmm,” he hums, not giving me anything else.
But the sound of his voice still curls around my spine.
Molly laughs lightly, setting her pencil down. “Dad, stop making this so weird.”
“Sorry,” he shrugs, eyes still on me. “I’m just making conversation.”
“It’s totally fine,” I swallow, my throat suddenly dry, as I try to focus once more. “Let’s take a look at your conclusion.” My tone comes out rushed. “This is where you really drive your argument home. You need to reiterate your theme, but in a cohesive nonrepetitive manner.”
As Molly leans in, Calvin steps away again, but it doesn’t prevent the air from still feeling charged around us. My skin hums where he stood, like it’s missing something it never should have wanted in the first place. The man is walking electricity, I freaking swear.
A few minutes pass as she works on it, and I keep trying to breathe. Calvin obviously has no problem with making me feel like I’m under strict observation—and clearly is out to torture me with conversation, or interrogation…
Whatever this is.
“You ever read Shakespeare outside of teaching it?” he asks, his deep voice rattling something in me.
I glance up despite myself, feeling far from grounded. “Sure, I have.”
“For pleasure?” His eyes sharpen. “Or obligation?”
“Both,” I answer after a beat. “But I don’t find Shakespeare as tantalizing as I once did. Some things lose their appeal once you know them too well.”
Something dark flickers across his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “They do.”
I hold his gaze, trying to read whatever emotion is etched into the lines of his face. However, it’s impossible to decipher, and the longer I stare at him, the tighter my chest starts to feel.
He’s like a curse or something.
Molly clears her throat. “Okay, I think I get it now,” she says, blissfully unaware. “I need to be clear and own my idea.”
I nod, grateful for the interruption. “Exactly.”
Calvin exhales, something deep, long, and unnerving. “Your coffee is getting cold.”
I look down at the mug in front of me, untouched.
I don’t remember ever picking it up. And I don’t remember ever feeling this aware of a man simply existing in the same room. My thoughts and emotions are all over the place. I try to mentally ground myself by pressing the sole of my shoes into the hardwood floor, but it doesn’t help.
Especially when a phone blares in the silence.
Calvin mutters something incoherent, and answers it, finally stepping out of the room and leaving Molly and me alone.
Thank God.
“Sorry my dad is intimidating,” Molly lets out a sigh. “He’s just kind of intense like that. Though, I swear he’s harmless.”
I force a smile. “Of course. It’s fine. He’s just being a good, watchful dad.”
Her brows knit together as she makes a face. “If that’s what you want to call it, I guess.” She turns her attention back to her paper. “I’d like to try another essay, on maybe something else?”
I nod. “I was actually thinking of having you cover Hamlet… It’s a short read, similar in a lot of ways in structure, obviously…
” My voice trails off as one of the doors slams somewhere in the house.
I try to shake it off and reach into my bag, grabbing the new assignment and copy of Hamlet.
As soon as I hand it to Molly, Calvin reappears.
“Time for this to end,” Calvin’s voice booms through the kitchen, jarring me sideways. “I have a work call.”
I turn to him, noticing the visible strain on his face. “Everything okay?”
His entire face hardens. “Everything is fine, you need to go. Molly is supposed to be at her mom’s anyway.”
“After—”
“Now,” Calvin cuts off Molly and the urgency has me gathering my things before I can even mentally process what I’m doing.
“I’m so sorry,” Molly jumps to her feet, as I sling my bag over my shoulder. “My dad sometimes has work emergencies, and he doesn’t like me staying here alone…”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her, my heart throbbing in the side of my head. “Things happen. We’ll set the next session after class tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Molly calls to me as I head for the front door.
Calvin Bradford stands at exit, his towering figure more intimidating than ever as he whips the door open for me. I pause in front of me, peering up at the icy eyes that seem to cut through every fucking defense I’ve ever put up.
You could just ask him about your brother, the thought pops in as we stay locked in. But as he nods toward my car…
My body obeys him.
And I feel like this might become a problem.