Page 95 of Forget Me Not

Of course, the moment I think about wasting time, Nova pops into my head. Does she think we’re just wasting time? Something about that pisses me off.

If the engine hadn’t broken down, I never would have come to Port Nova. We never would have met.

Maybe that would have been a good thing.

The last couple nights have been strange. Holding her while she slept, waking up to her in the morning. And now that I know who she really is, I’m finding it harder and harder to ignore that shitty little term divine intervention.

I wasn’t meant to meet Nova any more than I was meant to come to this town.

But I did and now I can’t get her out of my head.

Every day I spend with her, it gets harder to think about leaving. I could stay, but then I would only disappoint her. I can’t be what she wants. I’ll get bored. She’ll hate me for it.

Not that she’d want me once she learned the truth. You don’t murder someone and then get handpicked by God for redemption.

No. I’m a monster. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I should leave her alone. Go to the inn. Finish up my books for the summer and get my shit together to leave in a couple weeks.

Still, I make my way through town and find myself walking toward the school where she’ll be having her art class. As I pass the Quick Mart, I stop for some popsicles for the kids because it’s hot today. I know I’m just making up shitty excuses to see her, but I’d be lying if I told you I’m a strong man where she’s concerned.

I feel like a drug-addicted maniac who needs his fix, but I can’t stop.

Something about Nova Fischer just . . . drives me fucking crazy.

The school is quiet when I arrive, save for the sounds of chatter from the far end. I follow the sounds, the feeling of her presence growing stronger, and I swear I can smell her fucking perfume.

As soon as I see her, my chest aches.

Then my cock.

She’s wearing this pretty little sundress that I’d love to push up around her waist. It’s something I would expect any other teacher to wear in the summer, but on her, it’s sexy as fuck.

Do I have a teacher kink?

Or is Nova?

“That’s a very pretty horse,” she says to Abigail, a little girl I met a couple days ago when I stopped by her dad’s hardware store in town for some nails to fix a couple loose boards in the floor. From the doorway, I can see it’s a horse, colored purple with green polka dots and blue hair.

“It’s mane is made of fish,” the little girl says, pointing at the squiggles that must be fish-hair.

“Wow,” Nova says, dropping down in front of her. “You know, you have a very creative mind. You’re going to do great things, someday.”

“Like buy a boat?” Abigail asks, her little blue eyes lighting up with stars.

“Girls can’t be fishermen,” a boy beside her interjects and Nova shoots him a look.

“Now,” she scolds. “Girls can be whatever they want to be, just like boys can be whatever they want to be.”

“What about an astronaut?” another girl asks.

Nova chuckles. “Even an astronaut.”

“I want to be an artist, like you, Ms. Fischer.”

“You have to be a good artist,” another boy says and he and the first kid snicker together.

“No,” Nova corrects. “Art is all about how it makes you feel.” She steps over to the cork board on the wall and pulls a picture down, holding it up for the class to see. “Cody, you drew this. A blue lobster. Tell me about it.”

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