Chapter 3 #2
“Well, then. I’ll be here till six. You drop off the keys before then.” The landlady sighs.
I nod and then gather Mia from the bottom of the stairs.
It’s time to put an end to this.
The academy takes up the whole north end of town.
I knew it was big. I didn’t know how big.
Wrought-iron gates swing back from a drive lined with hedges trimmed sharp enough to cut, and the main building rises out of the green in glass and pale stone, the school crest stamped above doors tall enough for a cathedral.
Behind it, a full stadium curves against the sky, floodlights and tiered stands and all.
Money breathes off every brick of the place.
Beside me, Mia goes quiet. She stares up at the stadium with her mouth slightly open, and I feel like the cruelest woman who ever lived.
“Come on.” I take her hand. “Let’s get this over with.”
Inside, the enrollment office is all hush and warm light and pale wood, a young woman behind a curved desk with a headset and a smile. She looks up as we come in.
“Good morning. Welcome to Crestline. How can I help you?”
“I’m here to withdraw my daughter.” I set the folder on the desk before my nerve goes. “She was supposed to start today. Mia Vasquez. I sent her documents in last week.”
The smile holds, but something behind it stalls. “Withdraw? Today, you mean? Before her first day?”
“That’s right.”
“I, um.” She glances at the folder, then back at me. “May I ask the reason? Is there a problem with the placement, or the housing, or is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. We’re relocating. Family reasons.”
“It’s only that…” She lowers her voice, kind, almost apologetic. “You do know this academy is invitation only. A full scholarship through to college. Families wait years and never get a call. I just want to make sure you’ve, you know, slept on it.”
Something behind my eyes goes hot. Every single person who knows about this has told me how lucky I am, how rare this is, how I’d have to be out of my mind to walk away, and each time it scrapes a little deeper.
“I’ve slept on it.” Barely. “It’s a wonderful school, and I’m grateful. But I’ve got another placement lined up for her back home and a job. So if you could just process the paperwork, I’d appreciate it.”
She holds my gaze a moment longer, then nods and reaches for the folder. “Of course. Let me just pull her up.”
She slides the documents out and scans down the top sheet. Her eyes track to the bottom of the page, and she goes still.
“Oh,” she says softly.
My stomach drops. “What? Oh, what?”
“It’s nothing, it’s just...” She sets the page down and folds her hands on top of it, and she won’t quite meet my eyes anymore. “I’m not able to process a withdrawal on this particular file myself. Not this one. I’m going to need to take you down to the director’s office.”
“Why?” Unease crawls up the back of my neck. “It’s a withdrawal. I haven’t even signed anything. Why does a director need to be involved?”
“It’s policy on scholarship placements.” She’s already up and around the desk. “It won’t take long, I promise. Someone there can sort it out. If you’ll just follow me.”
She leads us out of the office and down a corridor lined with framed jerseys and trophy cases, Mia trailing my hand and gawking at all of it despite herself. The woman stops outside a heavy paneled door near the end of the hall.
“Wait right here. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”
She raises her hand to knock, and the door opens before her knuckles land.
A small fair-haired girl comes barreling out of it at a dead run.
“Mia!” Bella shrieks the second she clocks the dark ponytail beside me.
“Bella!” Mia drops my hand like it’s on fire, and the two of them slam together in the middle of the hallway, arms locking tight, both talking at full speed over the top of each other.
I stare down at them. “Bella? Sweetheart, I didn’t know you went to school here too.”
“I’m in fourth grade.” She beams up at me, gap-toothed, then whirls straight back to Mia. “Are you joining? Are you? Are we gonna be in the same class? Miss Harlow’s class is the best one, you have to be in mine.”
The light goes out of Mia’s face all at once. “No. My mom’s taking me away.”
Bella’s pale eyes flood instantly. “What? No. Why? You can’t, you just got here.”
“Bella.” A man’s voice comes from inside the office, low and even and much too familiar. “Take Mia down to her classroom for me, would you? Show her where it is.”
I lift my head, and every drop of blood in my body goes cold.
Marcus Steele fills the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, both hands shoved in his pockets, watching me with those gray eyes that fooled me once.
“What are you doing here?” I ask tightly.
“Last I checked, it’s my academy.” He pushes off the frame and steps aside, sweeping an arm toward the office behind him, and his attention never once leaves my face. “Go on, Bell. Take your friend. Mia, I’ll deal with this. You can enjoy your first day here.”
The girls bolt before I can get a hand on Mia’s shoulder, gone down the corridor in a clatter of sneakers and laughter.
“This is yours.” I can hear how hollow my voice sounds. “You own this place.”
“I founded it after I left the game.” He props the door wider. “Built it from the ground up. A man needs something to do with himself, and I wasn’t going to sit in an empty house going soft.”
Of every academy in the entire country, my daughter won her one-in-a-million scholarship to the one that belongs to her father. I could laugh. I could scream. I’m not sure there’s a difference left in me this morning.
“Mia isn’t staying.” I plant my feet in the hallway. “I’m here to withdraw her. Today.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” He says it mildly, almost kindly, which is so much worse. “There’s a contract attached to a placement like hers. You pull her now, you owe the academy a withdrawal fee. It’s not a small one.”
“There’s no contract.” My voice climbs, and I drag it back down. “I haven’t signed a thing. She hasn’t set foot in a classroom. This is a scholarship. You handed it to her for free.”
“You’re welcome to withdraw her any day you like.” The corner of his mouth tugs up, slowly, infuriatingly. “It’ll just be an expensive morning. Getting into Crestline is hard, Miss Hale. Getting out is harder. There’s fine print.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Come inside and read it for yourself, then.” He turns and walks back into the office, certain to his bones that I’ll follow.
I stand in the hallway with my pulse slamming and my whole body telling me to grab Mia and run for the car. Instead I step over the threshold because the only thing worse than being alone in a room with this man is making a scene in a corridor full of his staff.
The latch clicks shut behind me.
The office is wide and warm with bookshelves climbing every wall and a broad desk he doesn’t bother to put between us. The whole room smells of him, cedar and clean rain and something underneath I have no name for, and ten years might as well be ten minutes.
“Sit, if you want.” He nods at the chair across from his.
“I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself.” He leans back against the front edge of the desk, ankles crossed, arms folded, taking me in slowly from my flats to my flyaway hair. “You’ve been crying.”
“I have not.”
“Your eyes are red.” His gaze moves over my face, careful, missing nothing. “You didn’t sleep. There are shadows under them you didn’t have at the park.”
“That’s none of your business.” I take a step back and find a bookshelf at my spine.
He uncrosses his ankles and closes the distance, not crowding, not looming, just closing the space I keep opening until the heat rolls off his chest and the whole room shrinks down to the two of us.
“Why are you so desperate to run from a free ride for your daughter?” His voice drops, low, almost coaxing, and my knees go weak, traitor that my body is. “What is it about this town that’s got you this frightened?”
“Nothing frightens me.”
“No?” His head tilts. His eyes fall to my mouth, the same as they did on that wet curb the first night, then climb back up to mine without apology. “Your heart’s going like a rabbit’s. I can hear it from here, Jessa.”
My breath snags somewhere behind my ribs. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I.” It isn’t a question, and he isn’t smiling anymore.
We’re inches apart. His focus is total, pinning me where I stand, and God help me, my body sways toward his a half-inch before my mind hauls it back.
A decade of hating this man, of building him into a villain in my head, and one look from across a room dismantles all of it.
The unfairness of it makes my eyes sting all over again.
“I have to be at work by nine,” I whisper, but I don’t move.
“Then go.” He doesn’t move either, his mouth curving, slow and certain. “Door’s right behind you. Nobody’s keeping you here.”
His hand lifts, and for one suspended second, I’m sure he’s going to touch my face. He brushes a loose strand of hair back from my cheek instead with two fingers, barely there, and the contact rips a line of fire straight down my spine. I should slap his hand away. I don’t.
“Mia starts today.” His voice has gone rough at the edges, his eyes holding mine. “Classes start at eight sharp. Don’t be late dropping her off. It makes a bad impression.”
The spell breaks. I duck under his arm and get the desk between us, both hands shaking, breath sawing in my chest like I’ve run a mile.
“This isn’t over,” I get out.
“No.” Marcus settles back against the desk, entirely too pleased with himself, watching me retreat to the door. “I don’t imagine it is. Oh and, Mrs. Hale, next time, wear your wedding ring.”
I stare at him, at the slow, satisfied smile curling on his lips. Bastard.
I walk out with my heart roaring in my ears and the awful, certain knowledge that I’ve just lost the first round to a man who doesn’t even know what we’re fighting over.