by Sydney Logan
“New York City is this massive metropolis of over eight million people, but when a student accuses her teacher of statutory rape, the big city is suddenly a very small place. Word spread like wildfire, and I was placed on administrative leave within the hour. My parents were mortified, and my professional reputation was shot to hell.”
“But you were innocent!”
My outburst pulled him out of his misery, and he turned toward me, offering me a sad smile.
“How do you know, Sarah?”
“Because I know you.”
Lucas walked toward me, dropping to his knees on the sand and placing his hands over mine.
“Yes, I was innocent,” he whispered. “The investigation was embarrassing and excruciatingly long. When my attorney pushed for an amniocentesis to determine paternity, Marina completely freaked out. Her lawyer tried to convince the court the procedure was just too risky to the baby, but the judge ordered it anyway. That’s when Marina finally confessed the child’s father was actually her twenty-two year old boyfriend. I was cleared of all charges—and there was a formal public apology—but the damage was done. It would always be a shadow over me—something I’d have to explain to any future employer.”
I squeezed his hand reassuringly.
“It’s the most terrible feeling—being accused of something you didn’t do. It’s especially horrible when it’s something so humiliating. Even though I was found innocent and my job was reinstated, I just couldn’t go back to the same school. I took a leave of absence and spiraled into a depression that scared the hell out of my parents. It was actually my mom who suggested moving out of the city.”
“I understand,” I replied. “I’m surprised you even stayed in the profession.”
“I thought about leaving, but I still love teaching, in spite of everything. I know that doesn’t make much sense.”
It made perfect sense to me.
I grinned. “Sycamore Falls is definitely ‘out of the city.’ How did you find it?”
“My parents liked to vacation in the mountains,” Lucas explained. “It was always so beautiful and serene, and I promised myself if I ever moved away from the city, I’d find my own place in the country. I got online and looked for job openings, and I found the history position at Sycamore High. I researched the area—”
“I bet that didn’t take long . . .”
His eyes grew wide. “This place isn’t even on Wikipedia!”
I laughed. “We should write an article for the website.”
“We should,” Lucas agreed with a smile, his fingers squeezing mine before he rose to his feet and sat down next to me. Smiling, I offered him the blanket, and he snuggled beneath it, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, and pulling me close. “So, for someone who wanted to make a new start, this seemed like the perfect place.”
“Does it still seem that way?”
“At first, I wasn’t sure. For one thing, I had to get used to driving. I had my license, of course, but in Manhattan, there isn’t much of a need. I walked, took a cab, or used the subway, so driving everywhere has definitely been an adjustment. I’m getting better. Tommy’s been teaching me.”
“He gave me lessons when I was sixteen,” I laughed. “He said if I could drive his truck, I could drive anything.”
Lucas chuckled. “Everyone has been so friendly and the town is beautiful, but after a few weeks, I just wasn’t sure I could be this detached from the world. I grew up with museums and culture, and here it’s just . . .”
“I know. It’s very sheltered.”
“Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I have suffered a bit of culture shock,” Lucas said, “but to answer your question—yes, I think this was the perfect place to make a fresh start.”
“I’m glad, but don’t you worry about rumors?”
“Principal Mullins knows everything. I was very honest about my past and my reasons for moving to Sycamore Falls. I can’t worry about gossip because there is absolutely nothing I can do to control it. I just have to trust the administration will support me if it becomes an issue.”
“The principal loves you, and so do the students and faculty.”
Lucas sighed. “I hope so because I really love teaching here. The kids are respectful, which is something you don’t always find in the city. I’ve made great friends, and I’ve met you.”
His eyes burned with sincerity as he stroked my cheek.
“I won’t lie. Meeting you has been the very best thing that’s happened to me since moving to Sycamore Falls. I knew I had to tell you about New York. You have no idea how much I’ve agonized over it, trying to find the right time to tell you, and not even knowing if you’d believe me.”
“Of course, I believe you, Lucas.”
He looked relieved. “I’m glad, because yours is the only opinion that really matters to me.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Suddenly, I felt very guilty because he’d shared something so personal with me, and I just wasn’t ready to do the same.
“Hey,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across my chin. “I didn’t tell you about my past so you’d feel compelled to tell me about yours.”
I laughed nervously. “You know, this mind reading thing is really kind of sexy.”
Lucas grinned, but then his eyes flashed with determination as he held me a little tighter.
“Do you know how much I care about you?”
It was impossible not to know. It was also impossible to let myself completely acknowledge it, because that would mean opening my wounded heart to someone who deserved far better than the emotional mess I’d become.
“I care about you, too,” I whispered sincerely.
Suddenly, Lucas was lifting me and settling me sideways against his lap. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he pulled the blanket tighter around us. He’d seen me at my worst, and I’d wept in the man’s arms, but somehow, this was far more intimate than either of those nights.
“Sarah,” he whispered, nuzzling my cheek with his nose. “I don’t think you understand.”
The look on his face melted my heart, but I couldn’t let him say it.
“Don’t,” I whispered, placing my palm against his cheek.
“Now who’s the mind reader?”
I smiled softly.
“Why won’t you let me?”
“Because it’s too soon. You can’t really mean it, not until you know everything there is to know about me.”
“That’s not true at all. I could say it right now and I would absolutely mean it,” Lucas replied. “I know I don’t have all of the details—and God knows I’ve wanted to ask—but I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I also know nothing you tell me will change the way I feel.”
He didn’t understand, and it wasn’t his fault. Instead of trying to make him understand, I decided to make a joke.
“You can’t really know how you feel about me, Lucas. I mean, we haven’t even kissed. What if it’s terrible?”
Immediately, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. I was sitting on his lap and wrapped around him like a vine. Our faces were so close that I could see the little flecks of gray in his blue eyes, and I had chosen this moment to throw down the gauntlet.
A slow smile crept across his face, and reading his mind wasn’t at all necessary, because I knew.
Challenge accepted.
I was still unprepared for the moment his lips touched mine. Not because the kiss was hot and passionate, but because it was romantic and tender, and it was exactly the kind of kiss I’d always wanted to share with someone at the waterfall. My arms tightened around his neck as he stroked my back, and I was so overwhelmed I was practically trembling when we finally pulled away. He rubbed his nose against mine before brushing his lips against my cheek. Sighing softly, I buried my face against his neck.
“You were right,” Lucas whispered in my ear. “That was absolutely terrible.”
“Truly awful,” I agreed with a giggle.<
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We stayed like that—wrapped in a blanket and snuggled in each other’s arms—until the sky turned to dusk.
The second week of school passed quickly, despite the fact my mind was constantly preoccupied with thoughts of Lucas and our first kiss. In that moment, our entire relationship drifted into this sea of murky water where everything was cloudy and confusing.
It was especially confusing because he hadn’t touched me since the day at the falls.
In many ways, I was relieved. Lucas wasn’t pushing me to give more than I was capable of giving, and I couldn’t deny I was thankful. But there was another part of me—the lonely and selfish side of my heart—that was disappointed because he was keeping his distance.
To the casual observer, nothing had changed in my life. My classes were going great and I was making it through the day. Lucas and I still shared lunch each day while keeping our usual professional distance. If it wasn’t for the heated glances he’d sometimes cast my way, I’d wonder if I hadn’t dreamed our entire afternoon at Sycamore Falls.
It was a long week.
When Friday arrived, I was convinced there must be a full moon because the kids were out of control. Rumors were rampant about a fight in the lunchroom between two football players, and the entire student body was afraid the players would have to sit out tonight’s game as punishment. Apparently, we were playing Winslow, and they were our biggest rivals. By the time my fourth period class rolled around, I knew getting them to write anything would be a struggle. However, for a class who hated public speaking, they were more than willing to voice their opinions about the fight.
“Did you see Matt’s eye? It’ll be black tomorrow.”
“Patrick’s arm is probably broken.”
I glanced at their empty desks. That certainly explained why both boys were absent from my class.
“I think they were fighting over me,” Carrie said.
I noticed a few of the girls rolling their eyes. She might be the head cheerleader and the quarterback’s girlfriend, but Carrie was far from the most popular girl in school.
Howie smirked in her direction. “I’m pretty sure your name wasn’t mentioned.”
Carrie shot him an icy glare.
“Oh, and how would you know?”
“Because I was standing right there?”
“Okay, okay!” The last thing I needed was to break up my own fight. Instead of assigning a writing prompt, I gave the class permission to write about anything that was on their minds. I knew I’d be reading twenty first-hand accounts of the fight, but I was desperate to make this last half hour of class pass as quickly and painlessly as possible.
“Have a good weekend,” I announced when the bell rang.
The students turned in their papers, and I sighed with relief when the room was finally empty.
Instead of taking it home with me, I decided to take some time to read their essays. Carrie’s was fairly self-centered. She was confident the boys were fighting over her because Patrick had dared to say hello to her in the hallway just this morning. However, it was Howie’s paper that really gave me some insight.
“Hey you,” Lucas said as he peeked his head inside the door. “Working late?”
“Not really. I just wanted to read a few of these essays. The entire class wrote about the fight.”
Lucas smirked and took a seat in one of the student desks. “Very clever, Miss Bray.”
“It was honestly the only way to calm them down.”
He nodded. “I just spoke to Tommy. He’s benching them both for tonight, which is the right decision, of course, but I could tell he was disappointed.”
“Well, Matt’s the quarterback. It’s not good for the team when your star player gets into a lunchroom brawl.”
I couldn’t deny I was impressed with Tommy. In a town where football is like a religion, it took a lot of nerve to bench those boys, especially tonight.
“So, are you going to the game?”
I laughed. “I think last week’s game was enough for a while, don’t you?”
“It is an away game,” Lucas offered helpfully, “so maybe we won’t be crucified for skipping this one.”
“You don’t want to go?”
“No, I’d rather have dinner with you.”
It wasn’t the response I was expecting at all. Was he asking me out?
“We could go to the diner, if you’d prefer. It will probably be deserted because of the game.”
“I could cook,” I offered quickly. I really did want to spend some time with him. It had been a long week, and I’d missed him.
Lucas smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Chapter 10
“You’re adding too many chocolate chips.”
After a simple dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, Lucas decided he wanted to learn how to bake.
“Maybe I like a lot of chocolate chips,” Lucas said.
With a grin, I rolled my eyes and handed him the cookie sheet. I watched, worried, as he scooped too much dough onto the pan.
“Stop criticizing my baking skills and tell me more about your grandmother.”
I adjusted the temperature on the oven and offered him a mitt. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know.” Lucas motioned toward the pan, and I nodded in approval at his attempt to scoop smaller lumps of dough. It was still too much, but he was trying. “I’m obviously desecrating her kitchen, so I feel like I should know a little more about her.”
“I know one thing. She would say you’re still using way too much dough.” I laughed and grabbed the spoon out of his hands. I dropped small mounds onto the cookie sheet while he placed the first pan in the oven. When he returned to the island, I jumped slightly when he placed his hands on each side of my waist. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he watched quietly while I finished scooping the rest of the dough onto the tray.
“I really missed you this week,” Lucas whispered, holding me a little tighter against his chest.
Warmth flowed through me, and I placed the spoon on the pan as I snuggled against him.
“You’ve seen me every day,” I reminded him.
“You know what I mean.”
I nodded. “I missed you, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I felt him nuzzle the side of my neck, and I closed my eyes in contentment.
“I should set the timer,” I murmured.
Lucas sighed, but he didn’t argue when I pulled away. After adjusting the controls on the oven, I led him toward the living room.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
“Sure.”
I handed him the remote, and after flipping through the channels, he finally settled on Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
“I love this movie,” he said with a grin.
Slipping his arm around my shoulder, he pulled me close to his side as we snuggled and watched my favorite movie. Ten minutes later, the timer went off, and Lucas offered to take the cookies out and put the next batch in. When he returned, he grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around us. He kissed the top of my hair, and I had just snuggled into the crook of his arm when he began to recite the entire scene between Mr. Rooney and Ferris’s mom.
“Nine times,” Lucas murmured, his voice perfectly matching the principal’s tone.
“You cannot be this perfect,” I mumbled.
“Sorry?”
I frowned. “I mean it. There must be a flaw somewhere. Anywhere.”
His forehead creased—a sure sign he was deep in concentration and trying to decide if I was even remotely serious.
“You think I’m perfect because I can quote my favorite 80s movie?”
My heart stopped.
“Ferris Bueller is your favorite 80s movie?”
Lucas nodded.
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to kiss you now.”
His eyes brightened. “Because I love Ferris Bueller?”
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Scrambling onto his lap, I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands settled against my hips, holding me close as I brushed my nose against his.
“Do you have a problem with that?” I whispered.
“None whatsoever.”
I kissed him lightly, and he groaned, pulling me closer. Gentle fingers trailed along my spine as we kissed, and when I felt his lips part, and his tongue slide along mine, I knew the innocent kisses we’d shared at the falls were nothing but a sweet, distant memory.
“I really missed you this week,” he whispered when we came up for air.
“You didn’t have to stay away.”
I trailed my lips against his neck, and he roughly whispered my name. Far too soon, the oven timer sounded again, and I regretfully pulled away. Breathless and panting, he leaned his forehead against mine.
“Don’t go,” he pleaded.
“The cookies . . .”
“I couldn’t care less about the cookies.”
His blue eyes were desperate and pleading, and with a quiet groan, I brushed my lips against his once more.
After tossing the burned cookies and finishing the movie, Lucas offered to help me read some of the essays from my creative writing class. We were still snuggled up on the couch with the blanket around us, but this time, we were actually working instead of making out like teenagers.
“Wow, your students use really descriptive language.”
I laughed. “Isn’t it amazing how they all had a front row seat to this fight?”
I knew their stories were truly creative and most of what we were reading was a complete fabrication taken straight from the teenage rumor mill.
“Howie’s essay is interesting,” he noted.
“I thought so, too.”
Howie was convinced the fight had absolutely nothing to do with a girl and more to do with the fact that Patrick knew entirely too much about Matt’s personal life. Howie had been careful to keep his thoughts vague, but I couldn’t help but recall my last conversation with Matt.
“What are you thinking?”
“I was just remembering something Matt told me last week,” I said. “I get the feeling he’s not entirely comfortable with his life, and I’m not sure why.”
