Page 86 of Just This Once

I followed Whip into his kitchen. On top of the stove was a rectangular baking dish covered with aluminum foil. He peeled back the foil, and steam rose above the cheesy top. “Lasagna.I hope that’s okay. I’m trying something new for the station. It reheats well and feeds a crowd.”

My stomach grumbled loudly, and I pressed my hand to it and laughed. “Yeah, I think it’ll do.”

He grinned, and I wondered if this was what it could have been like—coming home after a long day and existing together in this space. Worry knotted in my stomach. I knew I had to break the news to Whip that I was essentially jobless and uncertain about what my next steps needed to be.

I’dalwayshad a plan, and this level of instability about my future was freaking me the fuck out.

Whip moved toward the refrigerator, pulling out a small salad for two and placing it on the kitchen island. He then dug out a metal spatula from a drawer and began cutting the lasagna into large, square portions.

“Now, you have to tell me if this sucks.” He plopped a square onto a plate and slid it aside. “Being a good cook is important for a firefighter.”

I laughed. “Not the saving lives part?” I teased.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean... that, too, but bragging rights for the best dinner that week?” He spread his hands, palms up, and smiled. “Come on.”

I took the plates from beside him and set them next to each other on the island. Using a fork, I scooped each of us a bowl of salad and arranged those too. The wordsI have no job and no future hereclogged in my throat. Whip was clearly relieved that the conversation with my dad went well, and I hated to ruin the moment.

After devouring his lasagna and salad, I gushed over his cooking instead. “Truly, it was delicious. Ten out of ten.”

He grinned, looking younger and more playful than I’d ever seen him. “Thank you. I like the crunchy overcooked corners, but I was worried I’d left it in the oven a little too long.”

I licked my fork with a flourish. “It was perfect. Thanks again.”

We cleaned our dishes side by side, but in near silence. With so few dishes he hand-washed our plates and bowls, and I let the lull of running water soothe the tension in my jaw.

When Whip finished wiping his hands dry, he turned to me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes, but I managed a jerky nod. “I’m okay. Just tired, I think.”

Whip pulled out a beer and held another up in question. I shook my head, and he placed it back into the fridge. “How are the Bluebirds?”

I smiled weakly. “They’re amazing, as always. They asked me to officially be part of the group.”

He smiled. “All right! You’re in the cool kids club.”

I nodded. My throat was tight. “I accepted, but I think maybe I shouldn’t have.”

Whip paused with his beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?”

Tears threatened to spill over my lashes. “I didn’t get the job, Whip. Principal Cartwright hired someone else.”

Whip’s shoulders slumped, and his head tilted to the side before he closed the gap between us. “Aww, Prim. I’m so sorry.” His arms wrapped around me, and he pulled me in close, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I know you really wanted it.”

I wiped my nose before pulling away. “You don’t understand. I didn’t justwantthat job—I was counting on it. I’ve looked, and there’s nothing else within a reasonable commute.” I took a deep breath and dropped my hands. “I think I have to move.”

His jaw flexed and his eyes closed. He sighed. “Move where?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know yet. Closer to the city, probably? Trust me when I say I looked and looked. Right now there aren’t any teaching jobs I can do within an hour’s drive.Small towns don’t have nearly the demand for teachers that larger suburbs do.”

His body went rigid and his shoulders set. A grumble hummed in his throat. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Exhilaration zipped through me, followed closely by aching sadness. “I don’t want to leave either.”

He exhaled deeply, as though he needed me to speak those words aloud. With a firm nod, he looked me in the eyes. “Then don’t. Get a job doing something else.” He scrubbed a hand on the back of his neck and started to pace. “I can ask around. See who’s hiring. I’ll call Huck at the bakery or see if there’s anything at the brewery. Hell, I can always ask Wyatt Sullivan if he knows of anything at the university.” Suddenly his footsteps stopped, and he looked at me. “But wait. Why didn’t you get the job? Did the principal tell you?”

The words expanded in my throat as my mouth opened, but nothing came out. I didn’t want to lie to him but also didn’t know how to tell him that, in part, he had inadvertently caused me to be overlooked for the full-time teaching position. I was also dreading telling him that I should have listened to him in the first place about calling Child Protective Services for Robbie.

“Um...” I sighed and resigned myself to the facts. “The principal found out about our little work-around to get Robbie those shoes. He wasn’t too happy that I went against his wishes to stay out of it.” I exhaled and let the rest tumble out of me. “Then, on top of that, I went ahead and called Child Protective Services about the bruises on Robbie’s face, and it turns out he’s a really good martial artist and I’m just a paranoid substitute teacher.” My hand fell and slapped against my thigh with a smack.

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