Page 20 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

“Isn’t that the best school in the city?”

Caleb nods, not breaking his gaze from the window. “Yeah. But, like, it’s his dream or something. Not mine.”

I glance at him quickly, catching the way his jaw clenches slightly, the same stubbornness I’ve seen in Silas. He’s practically a carbon copy of his dad, but younger and minus the ego. I want to tell him I get it, and I know what it feels like to have someone else’s dream thrust upon you. But I don’t.

I focus back on the road, the hum of the tires on the asphalt the only sound between us now. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the way Caleb’s voice cracks a little when he talks, or perhaps it’s my own baggage from years ago. But I can sense that something’s off. I don’t ask. I already know.

He’s being bullied.

The realization hits me like a slap. And suddenly, I’m fifteen again, stuck in a high school hallway with my own bullies cornering me. I swallow down the memory like bad medicine and force myself back to the present. Caleb doesn’t say the word, but I don’t need him to. I know the signs. The avoidance, the quiet rebellion in his voice, the way he withdraws.

The car slows as I pull into the school parking lot. And I cut the engine, sitting there for a moment as I think of what to say next. Caleb shifts beside me, tugging his hoodie tighter around him like it’s armor. He’s still a kid—Silas’s kid—and I hate that he’s going through this.

“Livingston High isn’t everything, you know,” I say softly, my voice surprising even me. “Have you told him you don’t want to go there?”

“It’s not like I don’t want to, you know?” he says. “I’d just like him to talk to me about it first. But he’s barely ever around, so when would he have the time to do that?” He laughs sardonically.

I pause. “Are you okay, Caleb?”

He doesn’t respond right away, and I take the opportunity to look over at him. The tension in his face eases just a little, but there’s still that shadow hanging over him. It’s the same one I had when my dad shoved me through life like a chess piece, never caring what I wanted. I sigh, my grip on the steering wheel loosening.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk about it,” Caleb finally says, his voice tight.

I nod, not pushing it. Maybe it’s not the time to press. I know that look in his eyes. It’s the same look I used to have when my dad wouldn’t stop throwing money at problems, thinking it would solve everything. Like when I told him I didn’t want to work in the family company. Or when Mom left him after he cheated. Or when she died.

It's five years since she’s been gone, and the wound still feels fresh, especially this time of year when the anniversary looms over us. It never gets easier.

Caleb’s phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. He checks it and frowns.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, pocketing the phone. “Just my dad texting to see where we are.”

I nod, and we get out of the car, the cool air hitting me as I walk beside Caleb toward the school entrance. I see Silas waiting outside, pacing, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. He looks up when he sees us, his face a mix of irritation and something else. Something I can’t quite place.

“Are you hurt?” He touches his son’s shoulder and inspects his face.

Caleb pulls away. “I’m fine, Dad.” He adjusts his glasses.

“Let’s go, Leah,” Silas says as he walks away. “You, wait in the car.” He points at Caleb over his head.

Caleb hangs back, giving us some space as Silas and I walk together toward the Principal’s Office. The school halls feel too bright, the kind of sterile lighting that makes you feel exposed, like a hospital. It does nothing to improve my mood.

We reach the office, and Principal Morgan, as the title board on her table reads, greets us with an overly polished smile. Her office smells faintly of lavender. Probably some essential oil diffuser trying to cover up the harshness of reality.

I don’t buy it for a second.

She motions for us to sit, and I notice how Silas hesitates for a beat before taking the chair next to mine. He’s stiff, his body radiating tension. And I can feel it like a current between us. I wonder how the meeting with the Caldwells went.

“Mr. Waverly. Miss,” Principal Morgan begins, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. “We’ve had a few incidents with Caleb lately. He’s been . . . distracted.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Distracted?”

She nods, her expression soft but condescending. She’s probably wondering who the hell I am. “Yes. I think it would benefit Calebgreatly to have more structure at home. A stable, two-parent household, if you will.”

I glance at Silas, who’s trying to keep his expression neutral. But I can tell the suggestion has hit a nerve. His jaw clenches, and I know he’s fighting back a retort. He says nothing, though, just listens as Principal Morgan drones on about “the importance of family” and “providing Caleb with the support he needs.”

“Is he suspended?” Silas asks.

---