Page 23 of Taming His Teacher

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at me, trying to see into my brain. It wouldn’t be shocking if he could. More teenage guys have passed in front of this man’s steady gaze than I can imagine. I look him straight in the eye like I think a man would, a man I’d like to be, anyway. Can he see how I feel about Erin? What’s he going to do about it if he can?

It seems like forever that we face off, but he blinks first. “Let’s get you back to campus and you can tell me about it over dinner. Mrs. Wilson’s made my favorite. You like pot roast?”

He stands, dwarfing me—he’s one of the few people on campus significantly taller than I am—and lays a hand on my shoulder, leading me out to the parking lot. In so many words, he’s told me I’m not going to get in trouble for this. A weight lifts. I’d do it all over again no matter what, but knowing I’m not going to have to go home a failure is a relief.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Erin

My eyes crack open at someone shaking my shoulder and a voice.

“Erin, what the hell happened?”

The corners of my lips tilt down. That’s not Shep. My lids flutter open to Will, looking pissed. I must’ve slept longer than I thought if Will’s here. But I’m not rested like I’ve slept for ten hours, and the clock confirms. My brain, hazy with painkillers, tries to fit the pieces together while I answer his question.

“I had a miscarriage.”

“That’s what Tilly said.”

Why isn’t he holding my hand, or stroking my hair, offering me comfort? Why did he wake me up? He’s looming over me and his glare narrows. I feel about an inch high, guilty for some reason even though it’s my body that’s betrayed me.

“Are you shitting me with this, Erin?”

“What?”

“Did you do this on purpose?”

If he’d asked me if I were the Queen of England I couldn’t be more shocked.

“Of course not. If I—”

“Yeah, you and your anti-abortion schtick. Whatever. Was this your way to trap me into marrying you? Then getting rid of it because you weren’t ready for a baby?”

My anger flares, fiery in my chest. How could he think so little of me? “Listen to yourself. You sound absurd.”

Helooksabsurd, menacing even, pacing the small room, hands raking through his thinning hair.

“This is bullshit.” He’s muttering under his breath and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming at him, to hold my tears at bay. How dare he?

“Get out, Will, if that’s what you think of me. If that’s what you believe. I can’t deal with this.” It’s while I’m scrubbing my hands over my face, my limbs stiff from trying to curl so hard around that gut-wrenching pain, that the switch flips. “Where were you?”

My question halts his determined wearing a ditch into the floor and his face could not say more blatantlyI’ve been caughtbefore he settles it into a bland mask.

He sits in the chair where Shep waited with me and takes up my fingers, kissing my knuckles. I want to pull away, but I’m too tired. “I was in the car on the way to my parents’ house. You know that, angel. I left you a note, or didn’t you see it? You ought to pay more careful attention. You’re so scatter-brained.”

“I did.” My heart hardens into an ice cube, sending sleet pumping through my veins. “You don’t answer your phone when you’re driving.”

It’s comical how myriad expressions flit across his face as he tries to decide what to do with this information.Here, let me help you.“Get out, Will. Have someone bring me some clothes.”

“Erin—”

“No. Get out. Leave my keys.”

“They won’t—”

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