CHAPTER 23 KAYLEE
It was an uneventful weekend, most of which I spent packing my meager belongings. Kate helped me pick out the essentials for my new apartment since I have literally no furniture whatsoever. I have everything on order and scheduled to be delivered to my new apartment on Tuesday.
Ben was on my mind all weekend, but he was busy and we only exchanged a few text messages. Somehow it’s Monday morning already and I’m on my way toward school after my morning run and shower routine.
A sense of dread fills me as I pull into the parking lot. This feeling like I just don’t want to be here isn’t normal, is it?
I’ve met a few people I’d place somewhere between friend and acquaintance, but this is just a job for me—and one that I don’t even really need considering I have that ten million in the bank.
I go through the motions on my Monday morning, and I have a half hour for lunch. I slip out to head over to the apartment complex to sign my lease and pick up my keys because I just can’t wait any longer.
I walk into the office and find a receptionist. “I’m here to pick up some keys,” I say.
She gives me a funny look. “Keys for…” she trails off.
“An apartment I rented.”
Her brows dip. “Let me get Lance for you.” She walks back to an office, and when she returns, a man is with her.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
“I’m Kaylee Dalton,” I say. “I’m here to pick up my keys to apartment one-seventeen.”
“All our apartments are currently full,” he says.
“What?” I say. “There must be some mistake. I spoke with Aubrey on Friday.”
“We don’t have an Aubrey here in this office, and we don’t have an apartment one-seventeen,” Lance informs me.
“Wh—what?”
“Did you put down a deposit?” he asks.
I nod. “Over the phone with my credit card.”
“We never take credit cards over the phone.” He looks at me apologetically. “I think you’ve been scammed.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Thank you,” I say, my cheeks burning with embarrassment that this happened, and I dart out of the office and to my BMW. I feel a little panic starting to set in as tears heat behind my eyes.
This was it—my chance to set out and be an adult, and I fucked it all up on the first try.
This is what I get for applying for an apartment on my phone.
Fuck.
I draw in a deep breath and call my credit card company first. “The current wait time is seventeen minutes,” the automated voice informs me.
I don’t have seventeen minutes.
I transfer the call to my car’s Bluetooth system and drive back to school while I try to compose myself, and when I pull into my spot, I hear the bell ringing.
Shit.
I keep the phone on my ear as I run into the building and into my classroom. My students are already in the room but none of them are in their seats, and wouldn’t you know it? My department chair is sitting at my desk.
She narrows her eyes at me.
My shoulders drop as I end the call to the credit card company.
This is basically the worst Monday ever.
Janet observes my whole lesson, which goes according to plan barring my late entrance. As the students file out of the room, she hangs back. “I’d like to talk to you after school,” she says. “Come to my office at three.”
I nod. “Of course.”
My heart pounds the entire rest of the day as anxiety plagues me ahead of this meeting.
And then a text from Ben comes through right before the bell to start my last class of the day, and all the worries seem to melt away for a few glorious minutes.
Trouble: How’s your Monday?
Me: Shitty. Didn’t get the apartment and my dept chair surprise observed me. You?
Trouble: Shitty and I can’t stop thinking about you.
Me: I’m sorry. I can’t stop thinking about you, either.
I blow out a breath as the bell rings to start class. I’d love to text a little longer with him, but given today’s events, I should probably put my phone down and focus on my job. Regardless of my current feelings toward what I’m doing to make a living, I still have responsibilities.
I make it through class to the end of the day, and I don’t get a chance to text Ben since I have to trudge over toward Janet’s office. Each step that takes me closer to her office makes my heart pound a little harder. I’m not looking forward to this.
I knock lightly on the doorframe even though her door is open.
“Ms. Dalton, come on in. Shut the door behind you,” she says, and that’s never a good sign.
I shut it and slide into the chair opposite her desk.
“You’re related to not one but two football players,” she says.
My brows dip. Is that what this is about? “Yes…”
“Your students are talking about it. It’s becoming a distraction.”
“I don’t discuss my siblings or my personal life with my Language Arts students, Janet.”
She presses her lips together. “Well great then. I just don’t want anything to distract from the learning.”
“Of course.” I move to stand, assuming this little meeting is over, but I’m grounded back into my chair by her next words.
“Now let’s discuss your late entrance from lunch.”
Shit.
“You were on your phone and you walked in late to a class full of unsupervised students. There are so many things wrong with that scenario that I don’t even know where to begin. You lock your door when you’re not here, and you’re not allowed to leave the building during the school day.”
“It was an emergency,” I say.
She raises a brow. “What was the emergency?”
“I had to pick up keys to an apartment I’m renting and when I got to the office I learned it was all a big scam and then I had to cancel my credit card but I was on hold and never got to do it and now I have nowhere to live and some scammer is probably racking up huge bills on my card.
” I’m babbling, but the truth just spills out of me.
“Oh, Kaylee,” Janet says, softening for just a beat.
At least I think she’s softening. I’m wrong.
“It sounds like you’ve had a rough day. But it also sounds like you left school to pick up keys on your lunch break, and that’s not considered an emergency.
That’s something that could’ve been taken care of outside of school hours. ”
My jaw drops open just a little at her total lack of compassion.
“I’m going to have to write you up for leaving school. If anything like this happens again, you’ll go in front of the principal for a review. Understand?”
She purses her lips and narrows her eyes, and I glance at the blue and green jersey with the number twelve on her wall behind her. She hates me because of who my brothers are and who are our biggest rivals? Her favorite team…the freaking Seahawks.
Boy, she’d really love to know I’m not only related to two players on the Aces but I’m currently fucking another one.