Page 24 of Taming His Teacher

“If I need a ride, I’ll call someone.”

I dare him with my eyes to argue with me. It’d give me a chance to scream at him. I’ve never been the screaming type, but if there’s anything worth screaming about, it’s your husband of less than two months shagging someone while you’re losing the baby that got you into the marriage in the first place.

He holds up his hands in limp defeat and lays the keys on the table beside my bed. My lids are heavy and I dismiss him by rolling onto my side. I wish it were Shep’s chest under my head instead of this flat, antiseptic-smelling pillow. I wish Shep were here so he could brush away the tears rolling down my cheeks the way he wiped the sweat off my forehead. Tenderly. With love.

* * *

Shep

Mrs. Wilson’s pot roast is delicious and I tell her so.

“Thank you, Mr. Shepherd. I’m glad you enjoyed it. You must be looking forward to some home cooking when you go back tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agree politely, not wanting to tell her most nights it’s a box of mac-and-cheese or a microwave dinner. If it’s a bad night, three bowls of cereal I’ll get yelled at for eating in the morning when there’s not enough food at breakfast for everyone.

Headmaster Wilson had asked me some questions about Erin, but Mrs. Wilson hushed him. “Let the poor boy eat, Rett. He’s obviously starving.”

I’d done a passable impression of a ravenous teenager even though I couldn’t care less about food. But once I’d gotten a few mouthfuls of the heavy broth heaped over roasted potatoes, it hadn’t been hard. When I’ve finished the thirds I’d helped myself to at Mrs. Wilson’s urging, the phone rings and Mrs. Wilson excuses herself.

“You’ll be heading to Fort Lauderdale for the second week of break then, Mr. Shepherd?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Looking forward to it?”

“Yes, sir.” I am, although more for the chance to sleep and eat as much as I want than for the fun and sun most of my teammates are excited about. “I appreciate the school paying my way. There’s no way I could’ve gone otherwise.”

“You’ve more than earned it and we couldn’t have the team captain sit this out, right? Do we have a shot at winning the division this year?”

We talk team politics until Mrs. Wilson calls the Headmaster into the hallway outside the dining room. At first I ignore their low voices, too conscious of being able to listen in on their conversation, but then I hear Mrs. Wilson say, “She’s fine, Rett. Don’t worry. She lost the baby, but Erin’s going to be fine.”

My head snaps up from where I’d been staring into the smear of gravy on my plate.

“They’re keeping her overnight to make sure the miscarriage is complete. She can come home in the morning.”

“Is Will staying with her? Should I go lock up Sullivan? The Jacksons and Bess already left town.”

There’s a pause that makes me turn my head. If what comes out of her mouth is anything butYes, of course—

“No. He called from their apartment. It seems Erin told him to come home.” Her voice is light but strained with a hint of warning. It makes me crack a smile. I can see round Mrs. Wilson drawing herself up to her full five feet tall, wagging a finger at the nearing seven-foot Headmaster, and him cowering. That woman is formidable and I wouldn’t argue with her, either.

“Tilly, I…I’ve made some mistakes, I won’t deny it. But overall, I’ve run a tight ship. Even the hard decisions, most of them felt right in the end. I’m a lucky man to have as few regrets as I do. But forcing Erin Brewster to marry Will Chase may be the biggest mistake of my life.”

They’re still talking but I can’t hear anything over the roar in my ears. Headmaster Wilson forced Erin to marry Will? Why would he—

The baby. Will got her knocked up. I can’t imagine parents wouldn’t be calling about that. They’re probably calling anyway. So he made her. Now the reason Erin had to marry Will is gone. Are they going to get divorced? Stay together for a while to make sure it doesn’t look like a shotgun wedding and then quietly divorce? Live happily ever after?

I’ve been a total douche. I was such an ass to her. I didn’t say a single word to her for over a week and I knew every time I looked at her it hurt her, but I was so angry I didn’t care. I couldn’t see past my own misery to see how scared, how unhappy she must’ve been. She doesn’t love Will, I know it. And if he loves her, that’s the shittiest version of love I’ve ever seen.

What was I going to do anyway? Whisk her away and settle down in some Rocky Mountain town where no one knows us, raise up the baby as mine? She could teach and I could bust my ass doing whatever work I could find. I’d hold down three jobs if I had to. But you can’t take Erin away from the Hill. She loves it here; it’s a part of her. It makes her feel safe.

What were my other options? Tell her I loved her? No can do. Still can’t. But now I can try to make it up to her for being such a complete and utter dickwad. Somehow, some way. I can start by not acting like such a dipshit.

A few minutes later, the Headmaster and his wife come back into the dining room. Mrs. Wilson offers me some tea.

“No, thank you. You’ve managed to fill the bottomless pit.” I pat my stomach with a smile. Who doesn’t like ravenous-teenage-boy jokes, besides a borderline homeless family who can’t afford to feed one properly? “If I eat another bite or take another sip, I might explode. But thank you so much for having me. That was the best dinner I’ve had…” Ever. It’s the best dinner I’ve had ever, but to cop to that would make them feel sorry for me, or worse, make them think I’m being insincere. I go with “in a long time.”

I lay my napkin on the table as I stand, and I’m surprised when Mrs. Wilson grabs me in a hug. She’s little and soft like Erin. Though they look absolutely nothing alike, and her hair smells like coconut instead of flowers, this is what it might be like to hug Erin’s mom. What a weird thought. I pat her on the back and Headmaster Wilson clears his throat.

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