by Brynn Paulin
“Mr. Clark told me you weren’t feeling well,” he said. “I thought I’d come and check.” His eyebrow raised. “Perhaps you should go home for the day?”
“I…”
“Not a suggestion, Ms. James. I’ll spare you embarrassment, though why I’m not sure, and let you leave at the end of class. You’ll report to my office at seven on Monday morning.” He glanced at the closet door behind me. “God help you if that’s a student.”
My knees buckled, but somehow, I managed to stay upright. As he walked from the room, I fought back tears. It surprised me he didn’t stay to investigate. Then again, and how could I forget, the school had cameras everywhere. And I was screwed. And not nearly as pleasantly as five minutes ago.
Chapter Eight
~ Kyler ~
I was unnerved. My hands shook just slightly while I suited up for the game. Whitney hadn’t been anywhere to be found when I’d snuck out of the closet—and she hadn’t alerted me to the all-clear, either. Then she hadn’t been in class for sixth hour Shakespeare. I’d bulleted for the door as soon as the substitute let us go. I hadn’t had time to go find her, since it was an away game today. She wasn’t answering my calls.
Had I been too much? Was she freaked out?
“Lewis!” Coach bellowed across the visitors’ locker room where the team was getting ready. When I looked up, he stood near the makeshift office, Principal Waters at his shoulder.
Oh fucking hell.
Keeping it nonchalant, I dropped the pads I’d been holding then jogged over. “Yeah, Coach?”
“In the office,” he huffed, shaking his head. He stormed that way, and I followed, my stomach in knots. I knew. I didn’t have a doubt.
They’d found out somehow.
The principal followed and closed the door to give us privacy. I was sure every guy in that locker room was staring our way.
“You’re benched, Lewis,” the coach announced without preamble.
“What?”
“It’s come to our attention that you’ve entered into a relationship with your teacher, Ms. Whitney James.”
Fucking hell, this was Whit’s worst nightmare. No wonder she wasn’t answering my calls. She had to be freaking out.
“We’ve retrieved all your work from her files and it’s being reviewed. You should be expelled, but the board is too interested in the state championship than in upholding standards,” Waters informed me. “In lieu of suspension or the standard rule of expulsion, you’re benched for this game pending review of your grades and further meetings with the board and your parents. You are to have no contact with Ms. James. If you do, I will personally see to it that your football career is over. Am I understood?”
I understood he was an asshole with a vendetta. A look at Coach’s thunderous expression as he stared at his boss told me that vendetta was with the sports program at the school.
“Am I understood?” Waters repeated when I didn’t answer, and I was pretty sure I hated his ass.
“Yeah, I hear you,” I replied.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll be outside. When you’re ready, I’ll drive you back to the school and your vehicle.”
Coach stared after him then turned his gaze at me, disappointment in his eyes. “Couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you? Couldn’t pick one of those little prancing cheerleaders? This is a big game.”
“Every game is a big game.”
“Damn straight.”
“This has—”
Coach held up his hand. “Fuck, don’t tell me,” he said, startling me with his swearing. He usually contained it to hell or damn. I guess this was a fuck situation. A complete fubar. “I don’t want any details I might have to report. Whitney is a nice gal, and I’m sorry this shit is happening, but you two know better. She knows better. She’s an adult.”
“I’m an adult. I’m nineteen.”
“You’re a kid,” he scoffed, discounting the birthday I’d had last week. “No life experience, no common sense. But hear me now. Listen to Waters. I need you back on that field next week. The second string is shit compared to you—but I’ll deny it if you say that to them. I can’t afford for you to go and get yourself kicked out of school. You can’t afford to tank your future. You better hope your lawyer daddy can keep it out of your records. Now get out of here. I have a game to cry over.”
I didn’t say a word to anyone as I returned to my gear and packed up. They were my team, and they had plenty of questions, especially since I was deserting them minutes before kickoff. There was nothing for me to say. I just packed up, dressed in my street clothes and left.
The ride back to school was silent. Good thing because I wanted to punch the shit out of that smug smirk on Waters’ face. I stared out the window, wanting to text Whitney to find out if she was okay. But I couldn’t with Principal Asshole watching my every move.
“No contact,” he reminded me as I got out of his boring black sedan. It smelled like smoke and withered dreams. I wanted to run from it, leave that bad energy behind. I had enough bad energy roiling in my middle without Waters’ added crap.
Sprinting to my truck, I tossed my duffel in the backseat then climbed into the front. I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat, barely squelching the urge to try to get hold of Whitney. I had no doubt Waters was watching me and would know. I didn’t care what happened to me, but I didn’t want to make it worse for her. I had no doubt he was about to follow me to my house, too. The man had some sort of ax to grind and he wanted to grind it on my neck.
At my house, I pulled into the garage. I wasn’t surprised to see the black car pulling to the curb across the street from my house. I fought the urge to flip him the bird as I hit the button to close the garage. I was better than that. I wasn’t a child. I was a fucking adult who could make fucking adult decisions.
My parents jumped apart when I stormed into the house and slammed the door. I tried not to notice my mom adjusting her shirt. That was par for the course around here. My parents were as in love and horny for each other as they had been since their early days together. I was glad for the former and didn’t want to know about the latter. Though it boded well for me and Whitney. Like us, my parents were years apart. My dad eighteen and my mom twenty-seven when they got together.
“Ky, you’re home,” my dad said. “Why aren’t you at your game?” They didn’t usually come to my away games, but they kept a pretty good eye on my schedule—and not so they could make out in my absence. They’d been completely in my face about who I was seeing and what I was doing until the beginning of this school year when I was a senior and almost nineteen. I’d always been trustworthy, with good grades, and they considered me an adult. Don’t disappoint us, my dad had said. I was afraid I was about to, though I had no remorse for my decisions.
“Long story. Dad, I need to talk to you.”
“Without your mom?”
“I need your advice. Mom can stay. She needs to know anyway.”
“Okay, let’s go sit down in the den.”
Once we were seated, I explained about me and Whitney, leaving out the sexual details because, fuck, no one’s parents wanted to hear about their baby bird getting it on.
“Suffice to say, Principal Waters found out,” I finished. “I got benched, and they’re reviewing my grades for the class. He wants me expelled, but the board wants a championship.”
He looked at my mom then back to me. “And they haven’t contacted us?”
“Apparently no?”
“And Whitney?” he asked. I liked that he called her by her first name, making her an equal to me rather than trying to institute some false authority gap between us.
“I haven’t been able to reach her since before they benched me. I’m worried about her, but they said I can’t have contact with her. I’m pretty sure Principal Waters followed me home to make sure I don’t. He wants me expelled, and I think he’s looking for any excuse he can take to the board.”
“Will they find something when they look at your
classwork?”
“She didn’t go easy on me, if that’s what you’re asking. I did the work, and I took my tests the same as everyone else. If they want to retest me to make sure, that’s fine.”
He nodded, his head bowed, arms crossed as he got up and paced. I’d seen it a time or twelve. It was his thinking maneuver when he had a difficult case. I never thought I’d be one of them.
“I can’t say we’re happy,” my mom said, speaking for them both. She knew my dad’s thoughts better than anyone. I had no doubt she had the pulse of his feelings. “But I can’t say we don’t understand, either.”
“I love her.”
“Does she love you?”
She’d never said it, but I was sure. “Yeah.”
“She must if she’s willing to jeopardize her job and standing like this.”
“I pushed her into it,” I confessed. “She tried to say no. Maybe, if I tell the school that—”
“But she didn’t say no,” my dad cut in. “It’s unlikely the school will believe you, and if they did, they’d have no choice but to expel you. You might even have charges filed. Do you want to ruin your future that way?”
“I just want Whitney to be okay.”
“I’ll call George and get a meeting with the school ASAP. I can’t say her job will be saved, but we’ll work out something. They’ll damn well work with me if they want that grant for the sports center they’re finagling from my firm.”
George was my dad’s partner at the law firm, the lawyer’s lawyer so to speak. He was a great guy, but I wasn’t so sure I trusted him with my future with Whitney. He might be in his late thirties like my dad, but he seemed…old. I didn’t want him looking down his nose at us and judging us. I didn’t want Whitney to be hurt more than she already was.
“We’ll go out and deal with Ed Waters if he’s still hanging around out there,” Dad told me. “Go call your girl and make sure she’s okay.”
I nodded, a little stunned that my talk with my parents had gone as well as it had. Maybe, it was because they weren’t conventional. Maybe, they could see how much I loved Whitney. I was gutted over this. All I wanted to do was go to her and wrap her in my arms and hide her from all the shitstorm that was sure to come our way.
In my room, I leaned against my door and pulled out my cell. No calls. No messages. I dialed, not expecting her to pick up.
“Kyler,” she answered, her tone dead. A sniffle followed by a shuddery breath gave away her emotions.
“Baby—”
“No, don’t,” she interrupted. “I knew this would happen. I should have been stronger. You need to forget about me and move on with your life. I told you I didn’t want to ruin your future. When I meet with them…”
She broke off, her pain making my heart jerk in my chest.
“Whitney, listen—”
“I don’t know what I’ll say,” she went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “But it’s for the best that this ends. It’s wrong. You’re too young. You have too many things ahead of you; I have a different path.”
“Don’t do this. I love you.”
“I…” Silence echoed between us, for a long beat. “I don’t love you, Kyler,” she lied. And I knew it was a lie even as it sucker punched me in the gut. I wanted to throw up, to scream.
“Don’t lie to me,” I growled.
“It was fun while it lasted,” she whispered. “You made me feel…not so lonely. But you need someone your age. Someone who will—” Her voice broke.
“You talk as if you’re ancient. You’re not even ten years older than me,” I cut in before she could restart the bullshit. I felt as if I were trying to grasp handfuls of sand. Everything important in my life was slipping away. My reputation, football, my future, Whitney. I could lose everything, but I couldn’t lose her. “Don’t do this. Please. I don’t care about any of the things everyone seems so convinced I should. All I care about is you.”
“You should care. It’s your future. It’s the future of whoever you…love, whoever you end up with. The person you settle down with and have kids with, they’ll need you to do the right thing now. They need me to do the right thing now. I haven’t been. You don’t think the gap between us is a lot. But when it comes to someone in high school versus someone with real world experience, it’s everything.”
If she was trying to rip the heart from my chest, she was doing a good job.
“There will never be anyone else for me,” I whispered. “I’ll come there—”
“No,” she exclaimed. “Don’t. It’s…” She huffed a harsh breath. “It’s over. It shouldn’t have even started.”
“Whitney, don’t.”
“Goodbye, Kyler. I want you to have the very best life. I’m hoping that for you.”
“No!” I bellowed. “Whitney, no. Don’t. This is bullshit. Don’t you give up on us. Don’t do this!”
But there was no response, and I realized I was pleading with dead air.
She’d broken up with me, ended everything. My one…
I slid down the wood of my door, landing hard on my ass. I buried my face in my drawn-up knees and thrust my hands into my hair.
My one…
I don’t love you. “But you do,” I whispered. “I know you do.”
Chapter Nine
~ Whitney ~
If the author of my life wanted to draw up the perfect horrible scenario, this was it. I’d spent the weekend alternately sleeping, crying and puking. Sometimes, I was double teamed and got the crying and puking at the same time. Last night, I’d caved and gone to the drugstore.
This morning, I was looking at two pink lines on a little white stick.
I looked like shit.
I felt like shit.
I was about to get fired.
And I was pregnant.
Oh, and for his own good, I’d broken up with the man I loved more than anything.
And the hits kept coming. It was a perfect storm.
Now, I had to try to look decent for the firing squad. I had nothing to say to them, no arguments. I’d show up, listen then leave. What was the worst they could do? I probably shouldn’t ask that.
At least, I didn’t have to do the walk of shame with my cardboard box. I’d kept precious little in the way of personal items in my classroom. Maybe, that should have been an indicator that my heart wasn’t there.
I was sad that this was happening, frightened of the future and the repercussions but not devastated that I wouldn’t be teaching anymore.
I pressed my hand over my stomach, guilty that I wasn’t happier to find out about the little human growing inside me. “I will be happy,” I promised. “Somehow, I will be. It will be all right. And I’ll love you with everything in me.”
I would love this baby as my parents should have loved me.
“Okay, baby,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
* * * *
At two minutes to seven I walked into the school. As I promised myself, I listened stoically.
“We’ve spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, we don’t feel that charges are appropriate, especially since your student is nineteen and assured his parents this…circumstance…only came about this fall,” the head of the board said, face implacable. The other eleven members’ faces were a mix of glares, smirks and disgust. Waters looked as if I were something he’d stepped in. “Do you have anything to add to that?”
I shook my head. From what I knew, they couldn’t bring charges against me—unless they wanted to sue me for any of a number of reasons. Hopefully, Kyler’s parents didn’t want to sue.
“The fact is,” the man continued, “we’d like to keep this as quiet as possible. You’re to have no contact with Mr. Lewis while he’s a student here. And we’d like you to sign these nondisclosure form. This packet of information details the terms of your severance from the school and how to continue your insurance, if you so choose. Do you have any questions?”
“No.”
“All right. We’d strongly sugges
t you don’t attempt to secure employment at another school.” He nodded as if it were a dictate. “If there’s nothing else, Mr. Waters will escort you to your room—your former room—to get your things.”
I shook my head, fighting tears as the finality of these chapter slammed down. “There’s nothing. I’ll just go.”
Grabbing the pen from the desk, I looked at the two nondisclosures, reading as fast as possible, though I didn’t care what they said. I scrawled my name twice then took the manila envelope full of paperwork and headed for the door.
“Well,” he said jovially to the others before the door even shut, “shall we adjourn to Marge’s for breakfast? I could use some bacon.”
* * * *
I didn’t bother to open the envelope. I didn’t care. My chest hurt from the pain of losing Kyler and of lying to him about my love. It was for the best. I knew it was the only way he’d let go. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t ache from it. My life was one lonely mess. And I could barely get off the couch.
Dispassionately, I watched the crispy brown and orange leaves blow past my window. November. I was about to face another holiday alone.
My hand flattened on my stomach. “But not next year.”
I wanted to call Kyler so bad, to tell him this news, to tell him I did love him. I couldn’t. I’d agreed not to as one of my conditions. And this week was the final week of playoffs. If they won, they’d be playing for the championship the weekend after Thanksgiving. I couldn’t take that from him.
I was just at a loss. I’d get by, financially anyway. The past couple years, I’d saved my side-hustle income, and that would continue to come in, too. Now, I’d focus more on it—it was a plan, anyway. Stay healthy, grow this baby and give it all the love, build my business.
Once I could convince myself off the couch.
I just hurt. Emotionally. Physically from all the puking. My muscles ached, and my head throbbed. The latter could be from the crying and stress.
It was knocking that eventually levered me off the cushions. I peeked out the window. A guy in a suit. Too old to be a missionary for Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses, I thought. Too well-dressed to be a detective here to arrest me or a salesman trying to sell something.
