Before You Go

by Ava Claire

  I pulled at the collar of my shirt, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Too many.”

  Cade had finished the story and was posing for pictures with each kid. He got down on their level, grinning like he meant it, giving each one a hug that made my heart swell in my chest.

  It’s nothing more than a mirage. It isn’t real. It can’t be.

  “Everything about Cade is meant to draw people in. His looks, the way he smiles, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. But he’s an actor. He’s good at pretending.” I shrugged a shoulder. “Last week he wanted my best friend. This week it’s me. Who knows who it’ll be in two weeks.”

  I realized that she’d gone quiet, her petite frame pulled tight as a violin’s string. She was his right hand woman. It was clear that she cared about him, and I was trash talking him like he was a menace to society.

  “I’m sorry.” She didn’t even register the apology, so I tried a lie instead. “You know what? I don’t know Cade. I have no right to take my issues out on him.”

  She straightened her spine, flashing me a half-hearted smile. “He can take it. Whatever hate you already feel for him—or guys like him—it’s nothing compared to what he piles on himself.”

  She walked away before I could apologize again, or ask what she meant. What he piled on himself? A tiny voice in my head whispered a single word. Different.

  Brad, the first guy I ever loved, blamed everything on everyone but himself. His dick in countless other women, while he swore I was the only one for him? That was just trust issues from a father that beat the hell out of his mother and siblings, and made them fight tooth and nail for scraps of his love. Even when I was so angry that I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even see straight when he came home reeking of someone else, or found some condom wrapper or earring, I pulled my punches. He was damaged, wounded by a troubled childhood. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t love me enough to be faithful. It took countless break-ups and make-ups and years of therapy to un-brainwash myself and realize that I deserved better.

  Mark was no upgrade. He walked around the school like he was doing everyone a favor just by existing. He had moments of kindness. When he looked out for a kid that was being bullied. When he tore Principal Patterson a new one in a staff meeting when they siphoned money from the Physical Education department. Considering most of my colleagues had no fight left in them and just kept their heads down and cashed their checks, there’d been something unmistakably sexy about a man who went to bat for education. But he flirted shamelessly with anything female that moved, and when I caught him in the act of cheating, his response was a shrug. It’s just what men do. We’re not a monogamous species, he’d said.

  Neither of them held themselves accountable for the way they hurt me or the way they hurt others. Whether it was their childhood or human nature, it was never their fault for being pieces of shit.

  But Lisa was saying that Cade was different. That he had a conscience. Maybe even felt remorse for the things he’d done.

  One of my students squealed with delight as Cade spun her around. Shanice Winters—a little girl that was picked on because she was chubbier than the others. She ate alone and never looked anyone in the eye if she could help it, as if she was terrified she’d see judgement. Cade put her down and cupped her cheek like she was the rarest treasure and called her beautiful.

  Tears rushed to my eyes, and I clenched my hands into fists at my side, digging my nails into my palm to stem the tide of emotion. If this was an all an act, someone he needed an Oscar, immediately.

  Principal Patterson and the publicist cut into the moment, putting a barrier between Cade and the final handful of students.

  The publicist woman’s voice was haughty, thick with condescension. “I think that’s all the time we have for today—”

  “I have enough time to finish talking with the kids,” Cade said, his baritone voice sending a flash to my groin. There was nothing sexier than an assertive man, and a man that was determined to make my kids feel special, regardless of his schedule? It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

  I pulled at my blouse, chastising myself. What was I doing? I was like something in heat, rationality fading the longer I stared at him. I wanted to pry my eyes away, hold fast to the guy I thought he was, but Cade was making it really hard to dislike him.

  From the way the publicist grit her teeth, she was having no problems in that arena. “Five more minutes, Mr. Wallace.”

  “Then I suggest you get out of the way, Miss Diaz.”

  I turned my back to the scene, biting back a smile. The students were drinking up the tension, and I was just as bad as them, rooting for Cade. I straightened some papers on my desk. Awkwardly rearranged the pens in my cup. Took stock of my chewed up nails. Anything to seem busy, in an attempt to occupy my mind and avoid the elephant in the room. In five minutes, he’d be done with the kids, and we’d be face to face again. Would I be strong enough to shake his hand if he offered it? Would I be strong enough to walk away from Cade Wallace?

  I gripped the edge of the desk, desperately clinging to all the reasons why he was bad news, but the children’s laughter cut through all of it. Get your hormones under control, girl! Just because he’s good with kids doesn’t mean he’d be good for your heart. Just look at Mark!

  Mark’s name was enough to sober me up, and I pivoted on my flats, blinders up. The publicist and the young woman attached to her hip hustled from the room like there was a fire, and Lisa followed suit after giving me a small wave. Principal Patterson had stepped into the role of actor, awkwardly pretending that he cared about kids. I knew he saw them as statistics; test scores and numbers on a page, keeping him from a robust budget. The camera man was snapping a few pictures of the classroom, and Cade stepped to the side, his head bowed like he was...nervous? No way—Cade Wallace was nervous?

  Butterflies swarmed my gut. I made him nervous. He was going to be trouble all right, because when he finally locked his evergreen eyes on me, all my reservations faded away.

  Whether I wanted to admit or not, I was intrigued by him.

  Chapter Seven

  Cade

  Well, at least she wasn’t scowling.

  Megan Scott had been beautiful at the premiere. Her skin was milky white, breathtakingly fragile like porcelain. Soft, honey red curls had intensified her wild, deep, green eyes. Eyes that set me on fire as she glared at me with a look of such disdain—and I could only steal glances in her direction to avoid being burnt to a crisp. And then there was her dress. It was a shimmery thing, the same color as her eyes. I could care less about fashion, but whoever made Megan’s number was an artist. In that dress, Megan made every other woman fade into the background...even Leila. And just when I’d been prepared to pull out my charm and woo her, Megan had shut my efforts down.

  The feisty redhead had my attention the moment she shook my hand like she saw right through me.

  We’d stepped into the ring for round two when I walked into her classroom. An identical desire consumed me when I saw her. I didn’t think it was possible for her to take my breath away more than she had at the premiere, but she had done so effortlessly. I wasn’t sure how it was possible, considering the lengths women went to for those kinds of events, but Megan was even more gorgeous without all of the fanfare.

  Her hair was pulled into a braid that spilled over her shoulder, red and honey strands caressing her cheeks. The flush in her cheeks matched her red PS 52 T-shirt and her statuesque legs were wrapped in jeans that clung to her body. Her lips needed no color because she’d been tearing into her bottom lip, the length of it lush and pink. Everything about her was lush, like some delicious fruit, ripe for the taking. Ripe for the tasting.

  And something had changed. She had been looking at me like she was moments from grabbing a chair and beating me with it, but the look on her face was void of vitriol. It was almost...pleasant. Maybe even open to a real conversation.

  I strod
e forward, wanting to take advantage of the moment while I could. She gave me a once-over, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. God, I wanted to kiss her. Feel her body against mine. She smelled like a delicate combination of flowers and warm vanilla sugar.

  I forced the heat down and tried to think of something to keep the other part of me from making itself known. The sound of the principal’s hyena note laugh did the trick.

  I flashed her a lopsided grin. “Hi.” She didn’t return it, but she didn’t tell me to fuck off either, so I figured that was progress. “You didn’t respond to my text.”

  Her mouth rounded to an O, relief washing over her face. “The text...is that what this is about?” Her mouth slowly curved into a strange smile. “You came here to get my attention.”

  It wasn’t necessarily a smile of happiness, more one of relief, but I’d take it. We were talking, smiling. I just rolled with it. “Is that a bad thing? Wanting to see you?”

  “Absolutely not,” she said, her eyes darkening. “I really appreciate you being, well, you.”

  I frowned, crossing my arms against my broad chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She circled her desk, lowering herself into the chair. When she shot her green eyes on me, it reminded me of a villain from one of my films. I played a barbarian warrior who fell for a princess from a rival kingdom. The queen, her mother, pulled the king’s strings and sacrificed countless lives in battle just to keep us apart. When I confronted her, she strutted to the throne and draped herself into its steel arms and gave me a look so filled with hate that it could have killed me dead. It was the same look Megan was giving me now.

  “I knew it wasn’t possible that you were here out of the kindness of your heart.”

  I took a step back, guilt firing in my chest. “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh really? So why this school? Why my class?”

  I stood my ground, even though she’d punched my number. “Because you’re a familiar face.” Something Patterson said flashed to the forefront of my mind, a better excuse. “Because you have kids with special needs—”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits sharp enough to cut. “Every child has special needs. I can guarantee being used as a photo op to promote a movie or as pawns to get a date isn’t one of them.”

  I was rendered speechless, brought low by her words. Her truth. I flashed a glance over at my shoulder, the kids ignoring Patterson, staring at me like they still couldn’t believe I was real. When I was a kid, an NFL quarterback stopped by my elementary school. His spiel was what you’d expect—say no to drugs, be nice to your parents, work hard and the world was yours, etcetera—but he may as well have shared the meaning of life itself, because I felt like he was talking to me personally. That he saw the potential that my father wasn’t around to see, and my mother was too tired from double shifts to notice. He saw me...and it was the greatest gift he could have given.

  I saw a similar spark, hope in their eyes. Maybe I walked through the door with ulterior motives, but that wasn’t the memory I’d hold on to.

  I turned to face the wall that she’d built around herself. A wall I wanted to scale. Sweep her in my arms, and make promises I could never keep before. There was something in Megan’s eyes that she tried to camouflage with disgust, but I saw it. I felt it. She liked me, more than she wanted to admit. She wanted to believe I was a sham. Toxic. But deep down she wanted to be wrong about me. She wanted me to prove her wrong.

  “Okay. You want honesty? My publicist set this up because it would bring good press for Soldier’s Creed. And I picked this particular school because I wanted to see you.”

  Her mouth opened, the aha! flashing across her face, but I wouldn’t let her declare victory until I got everything out in the open.

  “But it all changed the second I stepped in front of your class.” I scrubbed my hands down my face, remembering how amazing they were, making jokes, sharing their stories with me. Overwhelmed by the warmth that filled me, hearing how my movies offered them escape. Made them feel like they could do anything. “Do you know how amazing your kids are? How lucky you are to get a chance to watch them grow and experience the world?”

  She reared back, her lips still parted, but no words being uttered. Her face was awash with confusion and surprise.

  “I just want to say thank you for having me,” I continued. I searched for some sign that my words had gotten through her defenses, but she was still slack-jawed. Digesting.

  She traced her bottom lip, studying me intently. We stood riveted, waiting for the other to make the first move.

  She cleared her throat uncomfortably, suddenly concerned with straightening objects on her desk. “Well, I don’t want to take up any more of your time, Mr. Wallace.”

  So she was still Fort Knox. I let out a sigh and nodded slowly. I could take a hint. “Have a good day.” I strode to the exit, then stopped, remembering. She didn’t look up as I advanced, but I could tell from the way she gripped her folder that I had her full attention.

  “I’m sorry about the texts. I won’t bother you again.”

  The fighter in me was full of insults. Calling me a pussy. A quitter. But despite the spark of something that I saw in her, the burning inferno that I felt for Megan, I couldn’t take the way she looked at me. It brought back memories of the life I had before. The person I was before. The people I used. The hearts I broke...including the one heart I was supposed to safeguard. That I swore to cherish always.

  It was too much that I’d have to face, for someone that clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

  I’d nearly gotten out of the door when she called my name.

  I whipped back to her, my body firing with need when I realized she’d followed me—and was within arms reach. I scanned her face, the look in her eyes making me want to pummel whoever made her so sad. Whoever made her so cautious with her heart, for fear that it would be shattered.

  A guy like me.

  A guy I didn’t want to be any more.

  The side of her mouth crept upward. “Don’t lose my number, okay?”

  A smile dashed across my lips without hesitation. “You sure about that? I’m an epic texter. I’m talking late night musings on philosophy, politics—”

  “Don’t make me regret it,” she laughed, pushing me playfully. Her laugh was as beautiful as she was. I lost myself in the sound of it; the way it made everything else melt away. Her hands lingered, and I stepped closer, her touch stirring desires in me like no other before.

  She was under my skin. She possessed me.

  “Ready to go, Mr. Wallace?” Missy’s voice was a bucket of ice cold water and Megan and I separated, stammering our goodbyes.

  I followed Missy toward the exit, looking back in the direction of Megan’s class. Her smile wrapped around my consciousness. Her laugh hummed in my ears like a song. I hadn’t felt this way since—

  My smile flatlined. Since her. Another woman who had her heart broken too many times. Who was hesitant...and I’d relentlessly pursued her.

  I’d wanted to believe I could do the happily ever after. The wife and white picket fence and maybe even kids.

  And then I betrayed her.

  What if I did the same thing to Megan?

  “I’ll take your silence as a yes?” Missy was waiting expectantly, holding the door open. Light streamed in, turning her golden skin into caramel. Her brown eyes were locked on me in a decidedly unprofessional manner.

  “What do you mean?” I asked her, stepping out the door and breathing in the city air. Focusing on that, and not the colossal mistake I’d made in flirting with Missy in the first place. For ever thinking the fleeting bliss of hooking up with countless women could take the place of the love of a single, perfect woman.

  “I asked if you swept the teacher off her feet?”

  I cut my eyes at my publicist, remembering Lisa’s pleas with me to keep it professional. I’d put my toe over the line—hell, I’d stepped right over it by asking her to meet me i
n a bar, then made matters worse by flirting with her and calling her beautiful. It had been a terrible mistake. Her brown eyes were nearly green with jealousy. Under different circumstances, I might have been amused. At the moment, it was just annoying.

  I pulled my shades over my eyes, deciding not to fan the flames with a response. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Lisa had wisely called the two of us a cab—the last thing I wanted was an awkward ride back to my hotel with Missy and her minion—still, I didn’t relax until our cab had pulled from the curb and eased down the street.

  I watched the city speed by, block after block massaging me as effectively as the hands of a masseuse. Lisa knew me well, and gave me a few minutes to brood before she finally spoke.

  “You did amazing today.”

  I smiled to myself. “The kids were amazing.”

  She chuckled, but the sound wasn’t a joyful one. It was melancholy. “Megan’s not like the others. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I hope you know what you’re doing with her, Cade.”

  Megan’s face flitted through my head. Alluring. Haunting.

  I glanced in Lisa’s direction, no wisecrack to be shared. No faux indignation. Lisa knew where my skeletons were buried. She knew what I was capable of.

  “Me too, Lisa,” I said quietly, meaning it. “Me too.”

  Chapter Eight

  Megan

  I balanced two arms full of groceries, my purse, my satchel, and a bottle of wine as I fished for my keys.

  “Let me help with that.”

  The deep, mahogany voice curled from the direction of the apartment two doors down. It should have provided a measure of relief since I was a heartbeat away from dropping everything, but my neighbor, Joe Robertson, was far from a good Samaritan. From the moment I’d met him, his eyes had been fixated on my chest. If that wasn’t obnoxious enough, Joe wasn’t a bachelor, as his incessant leering might indicate. He lived with his girlfriend, who also had a staring problem. She sent a poison-filled glare my way if we had the misfortune of crossing paths. Shortly after our staring contest, our floor was subjected to screaming matches, words like ‘whore’ and ‘cheater’ cutting into my living room, forcing me to blast Pandora to keep them out of my head.