Page 17 of Johnathan

“Why didn’t you go?”

She shrugged again, setting her bagel down on her lap.

“I can go with you. We could just check a session out and see if it would be a good fit for you. Or I could teach you one-on-one.”

“You’d teach me?”

“Yeah, of course I would. You don’t think I could?”

“No, I’m sure you’re more than capable.”

Her body lit up at the idea of John wrestling with her on some protective mats, glistening with sweat, and breathing heavily near each other. Oh hell. Maybe they should have sat by the lake so she could just jump in and drown herself. Heat flushed all over her body as he laughed.

“What are you thinking about over there?”

“Nothing…”

John laughed again.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked. “How pathetic I must be, needing self defense classes from someone who already saved my life once?”

“I promise you, Abby, that’s not what I’m thinking about when I think of you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s not? What do you think about?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you while I’m working. It’s not very appropriate for a public servant to say.” He leaned over and brushed her hair behind her ear. “But it definitely has something to do with imagining just how far down that blush of yours goes.”

Her eyes dipped to his lips. They were so close, she could just lean in and…

John groaned. “Abby, I can’t do that right now. I’m in uniform on the job.”

“Right. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “I think you should probably drive me back to Sprinkles. I need to get ready for school.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”

“No, that was my mistake.”

“It’s not that I didn’t?—”

“Please don’t.” She reached around to her seat belt and focused on fixing the buckle into the clasp before she could just get out of the SUV and run away to drown herself in the lake. “I understand. We can just leave it at that.”

Six

“Okay kiddos, it’s time to clean up!” Abby’s class helper, Mary Beth, called out across the room. The screams of twelve three-and-four-year-old kids filled the room and Abby winced as the noise made her head pound. She was well aware of the signs of an oncoming migraine, and they were all there that afternoon. It was her own fault. A lack of sleep from another nightmare, and a grueling two-hour run before work would definitely bring it on. And she hadn’t had her usual two cups of coffee either. The caffeine would have helped.

She’d been caught in a cycle of self-loathing all day, wanting nothing more than to crawl into her bed and wallow from embarrassing herself in front of John. He’d been flirting with her, there was no doubt about that in her mind. But then she’d tried to kiss him, and he’d rejected her. Heat crawled up her neck for the millionth time that day and she pulled at the edge of her shirt. She was so sick of wearing things to cover her scar.

The fluorescent lights in her classroom turned on and Abby shivered. At the beginning of the school year, she’d been very intentional about providing alternate lighting for her classroom. There was nothing she could do about the other areas in theschool, but her classroom would not be a constant reminder of that night in the hospital.

“Classroom lights off, please, Genevieve.” Abby watched the little girl flip the switch back off.

“Sorry, Ms. Abby!” she called out as she went to get her backpack from the rack.

Shoot. Her eyes had been sensitive to the light streaming in her windows since lunchtime, but that jolt of brightness made the nausea simmering in her stomach roll with a vengeance.

The day was almost over. Abby just needed to get through her parent-pickup duties and then she could drive home and lay in the darkness until the pain passed. She tried to pull her shirt away from her neck, hoping to lessen the pressure, but it was no use. As soon as she let go, the shirt constricted her once again.

Maybe it was time to stop wearing them. But Abby hated how her scar looked, and she didn’t want to scare the children she taught. They were very observant, and very curious, and had absolutely no filter, which normally she loved. But her scar was too personal. It brought up the worst thing she’d ever lived through.

---