15. Theo #3
“School safety is my priority,” I say vaguely. I’m not sure if I’m referring to the fact that I pushed her away under the guise of checking the school grounds, or that nothing could happen between us because of the scandal it would cause, but the ambiguity works in my favor.
“I understand.” She walks stiffly beside me, gripping her tote bag, eyes straight ahead. Even in the dim light I can see her grim expression.
I fucking hate myself. One minute she’s in the garden, bubbly and excited as she talks about the project, the next she’s rushing to her car, tense and shut down.
I did that to her. That’s my fault.
And before I can stop myself, the words spill from my mouth. “I’ve been under a lot of scrutiny since last year’s fundraiser. I have to be careful.”
We reach her car, a cherry-red Mini Cooper with a dent in the driver’s side. She opens the door, shoves her bag inside, then turns to look up at me.
“What happened last year?”
I open and close my mouth, glancing away.
“I have a right to know,” she adds. “It was pretty embarrassing having donors tell me they were unhappy about how it went last year, only to have no clue about what they were talking about.”
I grimace, cursing myself. I can’t believe I let her approach donors. It should have been me.
“You’re right,” I say, pressing my fingertips to my eyelids. I have to tell her. “The teacher who ran last year’s fundraiser claimed they gave the funds to a local charity, and instead pocketed the money for themselves.”
“Shit,” Eleanor whispers, wide-eyed. It’s the first time I’ve heard her curse, and despite everything, it makes me smile.
“Indeed.”
“But…” She rubs her brow. “How is that your fault?”
My smile fades. “I should have caught it.”
“How?”
“By overseeing the event more closely. Double checking everything. Not trusting someone else to run it.”
“So, you’re expected to do everything yourself? Keep an eye on every single thing that happens in the school?”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs.
Of course she doesn’t get it. What did I expect?
“Eleanor, that kind of lapse… it doesn’t only damage the school’s reputation. It erodes the community’s trust. That’s on me.”
She studies me with a creased brow, unconvinced.
“It’s my job to protect the school at all costs,” I say emphatically.
“No,” she counters, gaze turning fierce. “Not at the cost of your own peace. Your mental health.” She cocks her head, scrutinizing me. “You’re really beating yourself up about this, aren’t you?”
I shrug, tugging on the cuff of my shirt. “Somebody has to be held accountable.”
She scoffs, incredulous. “Yeah, the person who did it.”
“Yes, and he was, but I should have spotted it.”
“You made a mistake.” She throws her hands up. “You’re human. You’re busy running an entire school, it’s normal for something to slip through the cracks.”
“No.” My jaw tightens, the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. “It’s unacceptable.”
“Wow.” She lifts her hands to her hips, shaking her head. “Are you this hard on your daughter?”
My brows lift in surprise. This is the first time she’s mentioned Juliana, and it throws me. I am perhaps a little harder on my daughter than I should be, but that’s for her own good.
“I have certain expectations,” I admit. “Yes.”
“If she made a mistake despite trying her best, would you rake her over the coals like this? Constantly berate her? Repeatedly remind her of her failure?”
My jaw falls open in shock. “Of course not.”
Eleanor softens. “So why do it to yourself?”
I stare at her, my heart beating wildly. Only Eleanor would see it that way. Only Eleanor would reach inside me, find that bruised, broken part, and bring it out into the light. Only she would care enough to argue with me in this parking lot in the dark.
Because that’s Eleanor. She cares that much. I think about the way she pours herself into creating Safe Harbor. How she fights so hard for the kids, for what matters to her. And as I look at the fierce determination on her face now, I wonder what it would feel like to be loved by her.
“You have to give yourself a break, Theo,” she says, eyes swimming with compassion. “Let yourself have a single moment to relax. To be happy.”
My chest shudders as I let out a long-held breath. A moment to relax. To be happy.
God, what I wouldn’t give for that.
You don’t have to figure it out alone, you know.
Her words from our second meeting come back to me, words I’ve played on repeat through my head for weeks now, even if I couldn’t admit it. Because I want so badly for her to be right.
For her to be the one who helps me figure it out.
She hesitates, then places a palm on my chest, as she did last night. Her hand presses to my aching heart, soothing the strain. My chest grows hot, my throat tight, as I gaze at this woman who is so determined to make the world better. So determined to make me better.
And my defenses fall away.
I sink a hand into her hair, dropping my forehead to hers. Her eyes flutter closed as I drink in her sweet peony scent.
Then I lower my mouth, capturing her lips with mine.