Page 112 of Not A Whisper

Grant snorts. “Like a proud father most likely. He’ll probably tell people he’s pushing me to branch out or whatever.”

“Really?” I can’t picture Grant’s father being able to hold a smile after that type of announcement.

“It’s that or he storms out, but I highly doubt he’ll want to make a scene.”

We pull onto campus then. Grant takes the route toward the back where I normally park. Tension I didn’t realize I’ve been carrying eases, allowing me to drop my shoulders back into place. It’s a small relief that he’s willing to keep our relationship discrete for the time being. Dropping me off back here will keep nosy coworkers at bay, at least for a little longer. A small knot of unease forms in my gut. If I go to this fundraiser and it’s announced that I’m married to Grant, what would that mean for my career? It is something I’ll have to look into later.

“Can I think about it for a bit?” I ask, tentatively. “Doing this would be another jab at Garry and I don’t know if I am ready for whatever retaliation he might come up with. I don’t know if any of us are. Trip and Carlos just took a major hit.”

Grant nods. “We don’t need to decide for a few days.”

I let out a relieved breath. A few days is a perfect amount of time to consider such a big move against his father. I’m also a little surprised.

“Is this you including me in your schemes?” I ask him curiously.

Grant snickers. “You could say that. Since Ipromisedto include you, I won’tforceyou to go.”

He pulls up to the curb and parks. When he looks over at me, I make sure he sees my eyes roll.

“You’d have tried to make me go?”

“I’d have brought you kicking and screaming,” he replies with an easygoing grin. His playful expression then shifts to sheepish. “But I won’t do that now.”

“Gee,thanks.”

We both laugh. It’s ridiculous that we are. Making light of his controlling behavior shouldn’t be a lighthearted conversation. But here we are, like two goofballs, laughing at something serious.

“Alright, I better go see what Ms. Barbara wants.” I reach for the door handle.

“Text me to let me know how this meeting goes.” His smile falls as worry pinches his handsome, sharp features. “Remember, you’re a Gipson now. Wield that name if you need it.”

Right, like I’m going to just drop that bombshell.

With a nod, I hop out of his massive truck and head to the Atwater Library.

Before I knockon Ms. Barbara’s door, I wipe my good hand down the length of my dress in the hope the gesture removes the clammy feel of it. I suck in a sharp breath, but it comes out shaky. It doesn’t help settle any of my nerves. I suppose the only way to dothatis to get this meeting over.

My knuckles tap against Ms. Barbara’s door softly.

I’m about ten minutes late for work but hopefully she doesn’t notice. Typically, I’m a punctual person. I hope my boss takes that into consideration this morning.

“Come in!” her shrill voice calls out.

With a sharp pang of reluctance, I turn the knob and step into Ms. Barbara’s office. Typically this small space, pushed into the corner of the second floor, is bare. What little she keeps around is meticulously kept clean. Today, however, her desk is covered with stacks of files and paperwork.

She’s also not alone.

If I had any hope that thiswasn’tgoing to be a shitty interaction, it vanishes now. One of the superintendents, Martin Kennedy, stands there stiffly with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the windowsill behind her. The few times I’ve run into the man, his condescending and prickly personality has made me grateful he hardly ever comes around.His hooked nose, beady eyes, and slicked back, thin and wispy dark hair remind me of a sickly vulture. I take in his sharp, expensive suit, and the little Groveton pin on the lapel of his jacket.

A well-dressed vulture.

My eyes dart to my boss. Ms. Barbara, who sits behind her desk looking pale and clearly flustered, doesn’t smile. Her bottom lip quivers once before she wrestles it under control. When her gaze falls to the bandage on my hand, her eyes widen.

“Miss Wilson, what happened? Are you alright?”

I give her a tight smile. “It’s nothing. Just a small burn. I grabbed something a little too hot last night.”

“How unfortunate. I would think not touching something hot would be instinctual. It seems carelessness is a trait we missed when hiring you,” Martin says, his voice tense. He gestures for me to sit down in one of the two seats in front of Ms. Barbara’s desk. “Please be seated. We’ve been waiting for your arrival. I have other things to attend to this morning so this should be relatively quick.”

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