Page 99 of Educating Arrogant Mr. Hunter

“Isn’t that the same thing?” And as irrational as it was, all I could picture was Dad leaving. While Wren walking away wasn’t exactly the same thing, it sure felt that way.

She ignored my question. “Please tell Zoey something came up, and I had to go.”

As she walked away, a tiny voice whispered that I’d made a mistake, that I should have given Wren a chance to pick our relationship instead of pushing her away before the inevitable happened. It felt hollow even as I tried to convince myself she’d have found a reason eventually to leave. That I’d been an idiot to open myself up and fall in love.

Chapter Twenty-Four

WREN

It had been three days since I’d walked out of Beckett’s house, and I hadn’t heard from him once. Zoey came to school each day with a questioning look in her eyes, and I didn’t have an answer for her.

I had told Beckett the truth when I said I needed time. I wasn’t breaking up with him, but he stopped listening. The pain left by his father’s neglect was buried so deep within him that I could understand his knee-jerk reaction. But no matter how understanding I was, it hurt that he couldn’t give just a little.

I contacted the parent in my classroom, a school board member, and met with him and his wife last night. They were sympathetic as I explained the situation and asked if they would help me appeal the rule. When they agreed, the first person I wanted to call was Beckett, but without having our approach laid out to gain the support of the rest of the board, I hesitated. I didn’t want to get his hopes up and dash it once again. Even though part of me wasn’t sure there was an us to save.

If I was being honest with myself, I also didn’t call because I was furious with him for having so little faith in us. And me.

The faint ding of my phone in my desk drawer drew my attention. A quick glance at my class showed they were still thoroughly engaged in our morning project. We were painting large cardboard boxes to make a train like in a story we’d read. The kids pushed the desks together to give them a higher surface to paint on. Zoey climbed up on a chair to paint inside the box.

“Zoey, please get off of the chair,” I called out.

With a grumble, she did as I asked.

Satisfied I’d have a minute, I pulled open the drawer and picked up my phone. My stomach went wild in a weird combination of clenching in on itself and fluttering madly in anticipation.

Was it Beckett?

Once I checked the screen, my stomach tightened to the point it hurt. A message from my stepmother. Ugh. My inner child cringed, and I decided to avoid her for a little longer. My emotions were so raw right now, I couldn’t add her bitterness to the mess.

Another message popped up from my financial planner, Bruce. This one was so short I could read it without opening it.

Bruce:Call me.

I’d left him a message a few weeks ago, letting him know Cynthia would be making regular withdrawals, and had avoided his calls since then. I already knew he’d tell me what a terrible choice I’d made.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Zoey,” Violet warned before I heard a shriek. A sound filled with terror.

Zoey!

I looked up in time to see her standing on a desk, wobbling. Her arms windmilling at her side. The phone slipped from my hands to clatter onto my desk, the dull thud barely registering. I would never forgive myself if she got hurt.

Zoey’s wide-eyed gaze met mine as I jumped up from my chair and skirted around my desk. I pumped my arms to propel me forward just as her delicate balancing act came to an end. She tipped back, her shoes finally losing their tenuous grip on the flat surface. Her scream of panic lodged fear in my throat.

I wasn’t going to make it. My heart pounded within my chest.

My feet ate up the distance, but it wasn’t enough. Her wide frightened eyes met mine again as she fell. I vaulted over a chair and shoved a desk out of my way. A loud, whooshing sound filled my ears until nothing else registered. Damn it! I should have been paying better attention.

This was all my fault.

The world slowed down as Zoey continued her backward tumble off the edge of the desk. Her body was almost within reach. I pitched violently to the side and threw myself onto the floor to catch her. I missed her head but could get my arm under her back and part of her neck. Even with my save, her head flew back and cracked against the tile of the floor.

Suddenly, sounds were loud and chaos ensued. Kids crowded around Zoey, yelling to ask if she was okay, others wanted to know what they could do to help. And two children used my distraction as a chance to run around the room, screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Zoey, are you alright?” I whispered, my hand lightly touching the side of her face.

Her dazed eyes met mine, and her hand jerked up to grip the back of her head. “It hurts, Ms. Winter,” she whimpered.

“It’s going to be okay. You stay here while I call the nurse.” I turned to one of the kids, not seeing who was in front of me. I pointed at Zoey. “Sit with her and let me know if her pain gets worse.”

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