Fight for You (Flirting with Forever Book 2)
Page 1
Fight for You
Amanda Bailey
Fight for You © Copyright 2020 by Amanda Bailey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Credits
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
SNEAK PEEK: Burn for You
Also by Amanda Bailey
Also by Amanda Bailey
Dear Reader
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Author
Credits
Editing by Rebecca Kimmel:
www.thewritingrefinery.com
* * *
Proofreading by Krista Dapkey:
www.kdproofreading.com
* * *
Cover Design by Diana TC:
www.triumphbookcovers.com
Chapter 1
Hadleigh
I am nervous as hell. Right before winter break, our assistant principal, Miles Steele, called me into his office to let me know I’d been selected to mentor a student teacher for the next eight weeks. I know it’s considered an honor of sorts to be chosen, but I can’t help but feel a smidge grumpy about it. Eight weeks seems like an entire lifetime to have someone in my classroom. It’s like my second home, and now I have to worry about someone else infiltrating my space. And I’m expected to just turn my classes over to this person? That scares the shit out of me. I’ve finally gotten into the groove after four and a half years, and now it feels like the rug is being pulled out from under me.
My friend and coworker, Zoey, and I have met for one final hurrah at our favorite coffee shop before we head back to work tomorrow. As we get seated with our drinks, I ask, “How is it that time moves so slowly while we’re working, but so incredibly fast during break? I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to go back tomorrow.”
Zoey takes a careful sip of her steaming hot caramel macchiato. “Ugh. I don’t know. I do miss seeing everyone, though.”
My friend is definitely a people person and thrives on interacting with others. If someone says the phrase get together, you can bet she’ll be there. She’ll undoubtedly be late because she’s so damn busy with her work as a guidance counselor and everything that comes with that, but she’ll be there. In my opinion, she runs herself ragged by always focusing on others and putting everyone else first. So yeah, that means she’s constantly a smidge behind. At this point, it’s like her calling card. I’m used to filling her in on everything that she’s missed.
I skim my finger absentmindedly around the rim of my teacup. “I’m not ready to go back and definitely not ready for whoever this guy I have to work side by side with for the next few months is.”
Zoey grimaces as she observes my fidgeting. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, and her gaze settles on my face again. “I tried to get more information about him out of Miles for you, but he didn’t share much else.”
Dammit. Usually, it’s handy to have a friend in the main office. As a guidance counselor, Zoey hears all sorts of things before the rest of us do. She’s my go-to for all the good gossip, but apparently, this time she’s in the dark just as much as I am.
“Here, look.” I hold out my phone for her. “Check out this e-mail I got yesterday. What vibe do you get from him?”
* * *
From: Sawyer Rivers
To: Hadleigh Beckett
Date: Sunday, January 2 12:24 PM (1 day ago)
Subject: Meeting
* * *
Ms. Beckett,
I hope this e-mail finds you well. I was told to contact you about my student teaching placement in your classroom this semester. I’d like to set up a meeting before my first day, if possible.
Sawyer Rivers
* * *
Zoey wrinkles her nose as she reads. “He’s polite, I guess.”
“You can say that again. He sounds … almost uptight. How should I respond?” My brows draw together while my thumbs twitch anxiously over the phone keyboard as I debate what to type.
“You should answer politely right back …?” She ducks her head and covers her mouth with her hand, giggling.
“Right. Okay, here goes nothing.” My lower lip is wedged between my teeth as I work through what I feel like is an appropriate response from a mentor to a mentee.
* * *
From: Hadleigh Beckett
To: Sawyer Rivers
Date: Monday, January 3, 2:26 PM
Subject: Re: Meeting
* * *
Hello, Sawyer. Would you be able to drop by after school hours tomorrow, Jan 4? Around 3:30?
Hadleigh Beckett
* * *
“There. Done. Polite and straightforward.” I roll my head around, stretching out my neck as she eyes me carefully. “I’m worried I’m not ready to deal with someone else, Zoey. I’m still kind of a baby teacher myself.”
“They wouldn’t have given you a student teacher unless they were confident you could handle it. Since when are you anything but confident?”
I roll my eyes at her. “You know half of that is for show. I’m a good actress. I have insecurities just like anyone else, and this is one of them. How do I teach someone else when I’m still learning the job myself?”
“You’ll be fine. You always are. Shake it off, girl. Shake it off.”
Just as she finishes her comment—thus putting Taylor Swift in my head—my phone pings with an incoming e-mail. Zoey’s gaze shoots to mine. “Is that him already?”
I look down at my phone and give an unladylike snort. “Yep. Well, he’s responsive, if nothing else. Maybe this bodes well.” I blow out a quick breath and open up the new e-mail.
* * *
From: Sawyer Rivers
Date: Monday, January 3, 2:28 PM
Subject: Re: Re: Meeting
* * *
Ms. Beckett,
Thanks for your response. Could you tell me where I should park?
Sawyer Rivers
* * *
My brow wrinkles in thought. “Maybe he’s just older than I first assumed. It’ll probably be some retiree working on starting his second career.”
“Could be, for sure. You know, Cal Jennings from the math department did that. He had a whole other career in the Army before he retired and went back to school to get his teaching license.”
I shrug, giving up on guessing. “I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow afternoon, huh?”
“Yep. This time tomorrow you’ll know exactly who you’re dealing with.” She narrows her gaze at me and pats my knee. “Breathe, Had. It’ll be fine.”
I nod. “Right. It’ll all be fine. Tomorrow I’ll know who this Sawyer person is.” As I shoot off another quick response, I wonder what I can do to prepare myself. The answer is nothing, really. Ugh. A bubble bath to calm me down, maybe? Take a nap with my kitten? I’m typically a very go, go, go personality; it’s great for getting things done but not so good for calming my nerves. I tuck my phone back in my purse and give Zoey my attention again.
Chapter 2
Sawyer
From: Hadleigh Beckett
To: Sawyer Rivers
Date: Monday, January 3, 2:31 PM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Meeting
* * *
You can park just about anywhere after school is out, so long as the buses are out of the bus lane in front. I’ll wait for you in the main office.
Hadleigh Beckett
* * *
Hmm. I rub the scruff on my cheek, trying to analyze this woman’s responses to my questions. I have so much more I want to ask, but I guess it can wait until I’m there in person. I don’t want to overwhelm her before we’ve even met. I have a tendency to dig in and ask lots of questions when I’m really interested in something, and teaching is something I’m excited to start doing.
I wonder what this woman is like. With a name like Hadleigh, I’d assumed at first that she’d be a younger woman, but her curt responses make me think maybe she’s older. And really busy, hence my hesitation to ask too much too quickly. I’m nervous to find out who I’ll be working closely with for the next eight weeks. If we get along, it’ll be fine. If not, it’s going to be torture.
Whatever happens, it’s a little surreal to think after all these years as a student I’m shifting gears completely and will now be the one at the front of the classroom. I figure I should probably turn in early tonight to prepare myself—it’s not like I’ve been doing much partying lately, anyway.
The reality is, I’m desperate to get started so that I have something to occupy my mind. My hope is that this teaching placement will keep me busy enough to forget all about Tara. It’s been six months, and I still haven’t been able to move on.
Like a good roommate, Willow has been trying to distract me to the best of her ability—everything from coffee hangouts to karaoke—with no luck. I feel terrible because I’m a huge stick-in-the-fucking-mud lately, wanting nothing more than to stay home and read or binge watch things on TV. Just Netflix, no chill—not since Tara.
Anyway, Willow is a good sport about my recent bouts of moping. Some days I’m fine and able to put everything out of my head, but others—man, it hits me hard just what a fool I’d been. Everything about the way things ended makes me not want to try with anyone else ever again.
Willow and I have lived together since things blew up with Tara last summer. The original plan had been for me and Tara to live together this year. We were going to get a head start on our lives together, but that all went to shit real fast. And surprisingly, the moment I’d shown up heartbroken on Willow’s doorstep, we’d proven to be well-matched apartment-mates. Anytime I feel a little depressed, she makes me laugh. I do the shopping and cooking and she does all the tidying up and cleaning. It’s kind of a shame we don’t have any romantic feelings toward each other, because it would be so damn easy with her. We’ve never been together like that; never even entertained the idea. We are proof that men and women can, in fact, be just friends.
I glance up to where she stands in front of the sink, swaying to the beat of the music from her earbuds as she cleans the dinner dishes. When she starts to sing along, I wince, gritting my teeth together at her off-key singing. Dear God, can she not hear how bad that is? Obviously not. Nothing stops her from singing aloud—not my complaints or even the groans from the audience at karaoke night a few weeks ago. Listening to her is a small price to pay for her friendship and kindness though, so I deal with it when I have to and sometimes go find my own music to drown her out.
I speak loudly enough so she can hear me. “Hey, Willow.”
“Hmm?” She yanks one earbud out and continues to wiggle her hips to the music as she turns and winks at me. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a meeting at three-thirty tomorrow and have no idea how long I’ll be. Leftovers for dinner okay with you?”
“I mean, yeah. We have spaghetti from two nights ago and tonight’s leftover tacos. No worries at all. I like leftovers.”
“I’ll figure out what to do after my first day, too. I’m not sure I’ll be up for cooking.” I run my hand through my hair making it stand on end, and then without really realizing I’m doing it, I bite down on the inside of my cheek.
“You’re nervous.” Her eyes go a little wide as she scans my features.
My eyes flick to hers as I let up on the skin between my teeth. “Yeah. A bit.”
“You’re going to do great, Sawyer. I’ve never met anyone with such an extensive knowledge of history—and not just the textbook stuff, either. I love all your quirky little tidbits and fun facts.”
I grin. “Thank goodness, or you’d have kicked me out by now.”
“Nah. I like your cooking way too much to kick you out for being a little nerdy.”
I bark out a laugh. “Nerdy, huh?”
“Yeah … just a little.” She shakes her head at the mock-offense on my face. “Seriously, though, the kids are going to love you. I’d have killed for a teacher like you. Instead, I had Mrs. McGruber for eleventh grade US History. I swear, she was old enough to be in the history book herself.”
“I don’t know what to think about the woman who is going to be my mentor. She was pretty short with her responses, which makes me think she’s … oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to say cold, but she didn’t seem like your typical teacher.”
“Maybe you’re thinking about elementary school teachers who coddle their students. This is high school, Sawyer. Not only are you going to have to figure out how to teach, but you’re also going to have to learn how to deal with teenagers and all the drama that comes with that. Think about it—this Ms. Beckett? She deals with that crap all day long. You think she has time to sit down and compose elaborate e-mails? And you contacted her over break.”
“Good point.” I shake my head. “Can I also be honest and say I’m concerned that I won’t deal well with students of this age?” My younger sisters, Kari and Khloe are fifteen and seventeen, respectively. Come to think of it, they probably do give their teachers a run for their money. I don’t know how I’d deal with either of them in a classroom setting.
“I think you’ll figure the kids out, no problem. And maybe you’re mistaking this woman’s teacher armor for indifference? What do you think their teachers have to do just to survive that mess?”
“I guess I’ll just have to wait and see how I do with them.” I rub my hand over my jaw, thinking. “Are these kids going to drive me to drink? Because that’s what my dad always says my sisters do to him lately.”
“Could be. Anyway, I’m sure your Ms. Beckett is just a busy person. I think once you
get to know her, everything will be just fine.”
Chapter 3
Hadleigh
The minutes tick by and I’m becoming increasingly anxious waiting for this guy to show up. I’d come right to Zoey’s office in the guidance department after school and parked myself in the chair across from her, the desk between us. Her seat faces the door, and she intermittently glances into the main office, keeping an eye out for Sawyer. Looking down at my phone, I’m surprised to see it’s only 3:25 p.m. Oh. He’s not even late yet, and here I am bitching at him in my head. I lick my lips and lean closer to Zoey as I whisper, “What if he’s a total idiot?”
She scoffs. “Then you’ll report back to the college and let them know there’s a problem. That’s totally not happening, though. We’ve had really good, positive experiences with student teachers from Roxford College.”