Page 57 of Sometimes You Fall

We part and, suddenly, memories of Grady and me from high school come flooding back.

It was always there—this connection I feel to him. But we’re all grown up now, and the stakes are so much higher.

“I have some homework to finish,” Chase says, pulling me from my inner turmoil.

“You’re doing homework on a Friday night?” I ask as he carries his plate to the sink.

“Yeah, that way I don’t have to worry about it on Sunday. I’m pretty sure that after working at Grady’s tomorrow, I’m going to be beat.”

I stop him before he retreats down the hallway. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

He scoffs. “Why? I did something really freaking stupid, Mom. I still can’t believe that I listened to them.” His gaze drifts off to the side of the room as he shakes his head. “I just wanted to fit in. I didn’t want to feel like an outsider again.”

God how I wish I could take away his pain and convince him that things get so much better after high school. He has so much talent, which has always caused problems on any team he’s played on. But I hoped it would be different here.

I lift his chin and direct his gaze back to mine. “I’m proud of you because, even though you made a poor choice, you’re taking the right steps to learn from it. That’s all I can hope for as you grow into a young man. Own your mistakes and strive not to repeat them.”

He nods and heads to his room, leaving me alone to consider my own words. I keep telling myself this is the same reason to keep my distance from Grady.

I just wish that my heart would get the message too.

***

“I’m sorry Jaxon is struggling with the divorce.” Mr. and Mrs. Harrison sit on the opposite side of my desk, trying to hold a united front in this meeting despite the animosity I can sense between them. “But throwing a chair across the room is unacceptable behavior.”

“My son is upset. I don’t know what else to do,” Mrs. Harrison says, glaring at her husband. “I mean, if my husband hadn’t slept with his secretary, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

“Jesus, Tiffany,” Mr. Harrison grates out. “This isn’t the time or the place to bring that up.”

“Why not? Your indiscretions are why our family is being torn apart!” Her voice carries in my small office, and suddenly, I fear that the point of this meeting is being lost.

I sympathize with the woman, I do. But mediating divorces is not part of my job description. My job is to hold the students at Carrington Cove Elementary accountable for their behavior and celebrate their wins with them.

“Look, I know things are tough right now, but what Jaxon needs is stability. Here at school, there is only so much we can do for him, especially if his behavior is endangering the safety of students and staff.” I slide a paper across the desk toward them. “This is the behavior contract we will be implementing, and here is a copy of the suspension paperwork,” I add, handing them another paper from the folder.

“Our seven-year-old is getting suspended! Are you happy with yourself?” Mrs. Harrison shouts at her soon-to-be ex-husband, launching from her chair, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and storming out of my office.

Mr. Harrison releases a long breath. “I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.”

“It’s okay.”But I secretly wish I could tell you what I really feel about you. Jackass.“But my biggest concern is your son. We care about Jaxon and want to give him the best shot at being successful, but his behavior cannot continue like this.”

Mr. Harrison nods as he stands. “I understand. Thank you for your time.”

As I watch him leave, I slump back in my chair and let out the breath I’d been holding. Just being around that energy dredges up memories of my own divorce—how Andrew tried to shift the blame, how Chase acted out at first when he realized his dad wasn’t coming home anymore—though, those last few years, Andrew was hardly around anyway.

I close my eyes and rub my stomach, feeling a bubble-like sensation move across my belly. My memory of feeling Chase move for the first time while pregnant with him is fuzzy, but my body remembers it well.

“Hey there, little one,” I whisper, peering down at my growing bump that is becoming more difficult to hide. I know they say you show faster with your second pregnancy, but I was hoping I’d get at least a few more weeks before needing a new wardrobe. My old maternity clothes are long gone, and even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be in fashion now, given that my last pregnancy was fifteen years ago.

The moment of nostalgia is interrupted by the buzz of my phone vibrating across the desk, flashing Andrew’s name. I hit ignore, not caring if he knows I sent him to voicemail, and then wake up mycomputer, anxious to catch up on emails. His calls are becoming more frequent, which can only mean one thing.

But a knock on the door stops me before my thoughts can wander too far.

“Come in.”

The man who walks in is the last person I expected to see—and definitely not someone I should be this pleased to see.

“What—what are you doing here?”

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