Page 36 of Revived

Chapter 12

Luke

“You didn’t follow the directions,” I explain one more time to the student standing in front of me, questioning their grade on their paper.

“But I did the assignment. Shouldn’t I get the credit?”

I huff. “That’s not how this works. The directions said to compare the plot and character development in two novels by the same author, looking for similarities and differences.”

“Okay…”

“Okay, so you basically wrote me a book report about one book.”

The student rolls their eyes as I fight the urge to use profanity, a similar reaction I get when Grayson rolls his eyes at me.

“Whatever,” she finally says and then turns to walk away from me.

“Dear Lord,” I sigh, straightening the papers on my table, preparing for my next class that will arrive in just ten minutes.

It’s the Wednesday after Cash’s wedding and I’m submerging myself in my work to avoid dealing with my feelings—especially since I have so many of them after almost kissing Rachel at the wedding.

I can’t believe I even thought of kissing her in front of all of those people, eyes and ears prodding for information, judgments to be passed the second anyone found out I was contemplating moving on, let alone with my live-in nanny. I mean, how much more cliché could I be? The single dad falling for his nanny? That’s the stuff that you read about in the tabloids. But then, add on the fact that I’m a widower, and well, things get even more complicated.

He’s moving on? Is it too soon? Is she just a rebound, or it is real? Can it be real when she’s younger than him and he is clearly taking advantage of the situation?

So many questions and accusations flow through my mind each time I go back to that night, contemplating how much longer I can sway back and forth about what to do with Rachel and what I feel towards her. The more I think about it, the more I end up fixating on how she felt in my arms, how peaceful and whole I felt as I held her—her delicious body pressed up against mine, her stark green eyes fully focused on me, her full lips taunting me as she spoke and divulged part of her past.

For the first time since I met her, I felt like she let me in, showed me a part of her that not everyone gets to see. I’ve obviously seen how she is with Grayson and I know she’s a good person with a heart of gold. But there are parts to her that I know she hasn’t shared, and I loved getting even the tiniest morsels of information about her past and how that’s shaped her into the incredible woman she is today.

The irony isn’t lost on me that I haven’t done that for her yet—shown her another side of the person I am, or at least used to be. She knows I love my son, that I’m happy with my career change and take my new profession very seriously by grading papers in the evening and arriving early to answer questions for my students. But she doesn’t know about my past, my life before Grayson with Hannah, or the moments in my childhood that made me who I am. She definitely makes me want to take that leap of faith though, reveal the raw parts of me that I’ve locked up for years now because the only other person I’ve ever shared them with was my late wife.

And yet I’m still torn because I know that as soon as we cross that line, all the hard lines in our working relationship become blurry and I don’t know how we move forward from there. I don’t know what her expectations will be, or even if I can fathom building a relationship with her. But what I do know is that she’s the first woman since Hannah that makes me curious about trying.

The vibrations of my phone on my desk pull me from my thoughts, Rachel’s name flashing across the screen puts a smile on my face instantly. If there’s any indication I should listen to my gut, it’s that—how easily she lights up my face and my day.

“Hey, Rach.”

“Luke,” she breathes out, and instantly my shoulders tense. She sounds worried and scared, making me question the point of her call.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m okay. It’s Grayson. He… he fell, Luke. At the park. I’m so sorry…”

My hands fly across my table, grabbing papers and shoving them into my bag, not giving a shit about the messy state they’ll be in later. “What happened? Where are you?”

“We’re at the hospital. They’re getting ready to take him for an x-ray…”

“I’m on my way,” I shout, hanging up and throwing my bag over my shoulder, running out of the room and across the parking lot as fast as my legs can carry me. I send out a quick text to my class through the app we use through the college, letting them know class is cancelled, and then I fire up my car and race across town to Emerson Memorial.

“My son… my son was brought in,” I struggle to speak to the receptionist when I arrive in the ER, out of breath from running from my car to the sliding glass doors.

“Okay. Calm down. What’s his name? And I need to see some ID, please.” She chastises me, and I instantly want to scream.

“Grayson Henderson,” I grit out, just as she types his name into the computer, her eyes searching the screen as she reads.

“He’s in X-ray right now, but let me take you back to the bay he’s in,” she says as she rises, leading me through a security coded door and around several curtains and nurses' stations.

“Here,” she directs with a wave of her hand, but I don’t pay her any more attention as soon as I see Rachel.

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