Page 25 of Lesson Learned

I may hate it but that doesn’t make it the wrong decision.

The bell rings, knocking me out of my reverie a second before the class fills with students. The last lesson has a draggy middle that stretches out forever, then abruptly ends.

As the pupils file from the class, I relax in my chair, gearing up the strength to do the job I need to do next.

Then I hear the soft rap of knuckles on the door, see Paisley’s face in profile through the glass inset. I walk over and let her in, unable to stop the smile spreading as she enters.

“Hey,” I say, gesturing at the same desk she sat in this morning. “Take a seat.”

She does, then tugs at her ear, avoiding eye contact. “Is this about my grades?”

God, she’s cute.

And who the hell am I kidding? I can’t turn her over to the men in my family. Creighton’s trafficking sector would crush her and suck the blood from her bones while she lay dying.

I’d rather kill myself.

“Are you okay?” I ask, leaning against the side of my desk, feasting my eyes, basking in the glow of making the right decision. “I wasn’t expecting you to leave the other night. I thought you were sleeping, otherwise I would have stayed.”

She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, frowning at the floor. “My friend sent a text, and it woke me.” Her eyes flicker up to mine, then dart away when she sees I’m watching. She tilts her head to one side, her chin raising a little in defiance. “I borrowed some of your wife’s clothes.”

Her lips press together in a show of annoyance. Her eyes drift to my ring finger, bare, then to the floor.

The unexpected burst of jealousy tastes extra sweet. “Considering she moved overseas after our divorce; I doubt she’ll care.”

She meets my eyes again, searching for something and relaxing a little when she finds it. “You’re divorced?”

“Yeah. I believe I was, in her words, a terrible husband who deserves to spend the rest of his life unloved and to die alone.”

Her face stays unresponsive while I’m speaking, then she allows herself a tiny smile. “A bit harsh. I guess you don’t want the outfit back, then?”

“No.” I press my lips together to hold back a laugh and move to my chair, a good two metres distant. If I stay close to her for another second, I’ll try to touch her and that’s the opposite of what I need to achieve today.

With plan A off the table, I smoothly segue into plan B. Paisley keeping her mouth shut.

“There’s a protocol to follow for our situation. The guidelines say we need to disclose our relationship to the head, who’ll inform the school board. They’ll then rule on my employment, bearing anything you tell them in mind.”

Her eyes open wider, snapping to meet mine, then flicking away as her frown grows deeper. “You might lose your job?”

I shrug, a pretence at nonchalance that makes my muscles ache. “Maybe. This is my first role, so I don’t really know what to expect. I’m just telling you what we need to do.”

“But it’s not…” She shifts in her seat, releasing her grip on the chair only to fold her arms. Every inch of her posture is stiff. “We’re not in a relationship. It was just…”

She shrugs and I should be grateful. This is what I need, her to agree to keep things secret. Agree to not make waves.

But the denial hurts, stupid as that is.

“I know,” I say, ignoring the idiotic clamour in my mind. “But I don’t want to stay quiet now only to have them find out later. That would be an instant dismissal.” She squirms on her seat, and I toss out another hook to drag her into line. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell them about the illegal ID.” Her face fills with alarm. “Or the drug use.”

That allegation is horrendously unfair considering the circumstances, but I need all the ammunition I can get. An ugly threat but necessary.

“This is to protect you,” I whisper. “It might be embarrassing, for both of us, but it’s not designed to hurt you.”

“But…” Her arms clench so tightly across her chest that I can feel the crush in my ribcage. Distress is carved into each tense line. “I don’t want you to lose your job. That’s not fair.”

“But it is in my contract.” I try for breeziness—it is what it is. She’s nearly there, wavering right on the edge of the line. “If they find out later, my entire career is toast.”

“How would they find out?” The words spill out of her in a rush, harsh, demanding. “It’s only us who know.”

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