Page 83 of Taming His Teacher

We’d like to offer our most heartfelt congratulations on your selection as the Chair of the mathematics department at Hawthorn Hill, effective June 1st.

It goes on to praise everything she’s accomplished here, everything she’s done for the department and the school, and it’s signed by the entire selection committee, with little personal notes of congratulations, too. Erin must’ve been thrilled, and pride courses through me. I knew she could do it, and she’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait to celebrate with her because this is going to be the best day ever. But that doesn’t explain her behavior today at all.

If she got the Chair, what the hell was she so upset about? Why won’t she take my calls? When did she get this letter? That’s when it occurs to me because I have overlooked every damn clue. She told me she was going to check her mailbox after the concert last night, asked me if she should check mine, too. If she got it last night and wanted to tell me in person…

Shit.

I try calling her, texting her, sending her an email even though there’s no way she’ll look at my messages. Not if she thinks… My heart drops into the bile surging in my stomach. She thinks I slept with Lana Davis. She must’ve come by last night and seen her. I have to explain. I have to find her.

The door to the hallway bangs into the wall because I shove it so hard but I don’t stop. No. I vault down the stairs but when I get outside, I realize I have no idea where she is. At a sprint, I head to the back of the building and breathe a sigh of relief that her car is still here. She’s on campus. Somewhere. Now I just have to figure out where that is.

I crisscross the campus, checking all her favorite places: the playing fields, her classroom, down to the art building. Even the dining hall because one night when we were starving and neither of us had any food in our apartments, she’d showed me that if you jiggle the handle just right, you can open the door even when it’s locked. We’d feasted on cereal and fruit and then I’d taken her across one of the metal prep tables, just like I’d fantasized about. This isn’t a fantasy, though; it’s a nightmare.

Out of breath and sweating, I bang on the Fishburnes’ door because Erin and Ellie have become closer over the spring, but a befuddled and very pregnant Ellie answers the door and tells me Erin’s not there. I even go to my apartment in hopes that she’s left a note, anything, that might tell me where she’s gone. It’s only then that I think to go to the Headmaster’s house. Because of course. Erin’s usually very private about her feelings but if she just couldn’t bear to face them alone, that’s where she’d go. To be with the only people who have been her family.

My fist meets the hard wood of the solid door, barely making an impact, but I hope the muted thud carries. I want to yell her name but I should exhibit a bare minimum of decorum so I don’t appear to have completely and utterly lost it. Which I totally have but the Wilsons won’t help me if I look like I’ve lost my damn mind.

When the door swings open, I’m expecting to be met with the imposing figure of Headmaster Wilson but instead it’s all five-foot-nothing of Mrs. Wilson, hands on her hips, looking like she’s spoiling for a fight. Her brown eyes, which have always regarded me warmly, are flinty and hard.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Shepherd?”

Mr. Shepherd. And if I’d done what she thinks I’ve done, I’d have earned that. I haven’t, but because I apparently have some kind of guilt complex, it still makes me queasy. “I’m looking for Erin. I know she’s here. Please.”

“What makes you think she wants to see you? You must’ve messed up in a very serious way because she’s been crying in my living room for the better part of an hour and trying to hand in her resignation. The only other time I’ve seen her so upset was when her grandfather died. What did you do to her?”

My insides feel like they’re liquefying. Erin can’t leave the Hill. She just can’t. Especially not over something that never happened. “I didn’t do anything. I swear to you. It’s all a misunderstanding. Lana and I, we didn’t—”

“Lana Davis?” I’ve never heard Mrs. Wilson raise her voice and I never want to hear it again. It feels like fingernails on the chalkboard of my bones. “Are you having an affair with Lana Davis?”

“No! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ve never touched her. She’s made…advances.” The old-fashioned word sounds weird coming out of my mouth but I don’t want to say it any other way. She hit on me? Tried to get in my pants? Wanted me to tap that? I can’t say those things to Mrs. Wilson. I take a hard swallow followed by a big breath and look her straight in the eye. “I swear to you, nothing happened between me and Miss Davis.”

“Swear on what?”

I rack my brain for the most serious pledge I can make, because I’d give anything, everything, to get Erin back. “I swear to you on my place here— No, onCaleb’splace here that I’ve had nothing to do with Lana Davis. She came to my apartment last night and tried to…” A strangled noise comes out of my throat in place of the words and I think I see a crack in Mrs. Wilson’s armor. She believes me. Or wants to, anyway. “I told her no. I told her to leave us alone. That I was in love with Erin and that I’d never hurt her. You have to believe me. Please.”

I fumble in my pocket and pull out the box, cracking it open to show her the ring I bought. It’s not much but it’s what I could afford and I hope Erin will like it. I think she will. Simple and not too big, it’ll be perfect on her hand and it’ll tell everyone that she’s mine.

“I was going to ask her tonight. I had it all planned out. I don’t know if she’ll say yes anymore but I at least have something to show her. Please, Mrs. Wilson. You know how I feel about her. How I’ve always felt about her.”

The confession makes me flush. That might not have been the wisest thing to say, admitting that I’ve been lusting after Erin since the first day I saw her, but Mrs. Wilson doesn’t seem scandalized or surprised. Headmaster Wilson may be the name on the letterhead but Tilly’s the one who knows what’s what.

Mrs. Wilson narrows her eyes. I can’t imagine standing in front of her and telling a lie. I’d shrivel up into nothingness. As it is, I get that same kick of adolescent nervousness.

“What did I tell you about making Erin happy?”

“That if I didn’t, I’d have to answer to you. And I will if she doesn’t believe me. But at least give me the chance to explain. Please.”

“I’ve learned a few things about boys and men in the past forty years. You’ll be a very sorry one if I find out you’ve been sneaking around. And mark my words, I will find out.”

“Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

She gives me one last death glare but then pulls the door open wider and ushers me into the living room, where Erin looks so small tucked under Headmaster Wilson’s arm.

“Erin…”

She looks up at the sound of my voice and the expression on her face slays me. Hurt, betrayal, and anguish. I’ve never seen her so upset. “I don’t want so see you. Get out of here.”

“Erin, please. I know what you think happened. But it didn’t. I’ve had nothing to do with Lana and I don’t want to. I swear.”

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