Page 78 of Hot Shot

Unfortunately for my willpower, it makes him infinitely hotter. It’s gotten to the point that I beg him to come with me places so we’ll be in public and I can hold his hand or feel the bliss of his arm holding me into his side. Maybe even get a little kiss out of it. Last week we kissed at a game, and it was so hot and heavy, one of the church grannies broke it up and scolded us in front of everybody. Afterward, Wilder asked me for the sixth time if I changed my mind. And I almost said yes.

I’m not proud. But I’m not sorry, either.

I don’t know how many more times it’ll take before I cave when he asks me, but I’m guessing one? Two max. Potentially none, if I accidentally walk in on him getting out of the shower like I did the other day.

Honestly, I might skip talking and jump him. He’d figure it out quickly enough.

At least when I’m at work I don’t think about him as much. I’m so busy, there’s no time for anything but what’s in front ofme. It’s been a whirlwind six weeks since Wilder told me we were married, he became a dad, and I started teaching. The heat made way for the crisp edge of fall, the weeks a blur of teaching and baseball and stress and fun andlife. So much life, more than I’ve lived in years.

We finally got our hearing date, which will be here in another six weeks. And then I guess I’m supposed to take my divorce and leave. The thought makes my insides howl and shriek and thrash like an animal, a long, resounding no echoing around in my heart. But that’s what I signed up for. I swore I wouldn’t stay.

Might kill me to leave.

But that’s future Cass’s problem. Today Cass’s problem is about to walk through the door of Cheryl’s classroom. Because I’m about to have a conversation with the mother of the kid who’s been bullyingmykid.

Mine. Mine?

The thought comes so easily it shocks me. She’s not mine, but I wish she was. I will fight for her like she is, and God help anybody who gets in the way of protecting her.

When Nicole Franks walks into the classroom, Cheryl and I stiffen, sharing a quick look of resignation as we stand to greet the angry mother. She’s tall and pretty, her ramrod straight hair in a tight ponytail and heels clicking as she marches toward us.

“Hello, Mrs. Franks,” Cheryl starts, smiling from her spot behind her desk. “Thank you for coming to?—”

“I had to reschedule an important showing for this,” she snaps, taking the seat across from us.

We sink into our chairs, and I shuffle the papers in my lap to give my hands something to do. My heart thumps hard in my chest, but I’m not nervous. I don’t want to argue, but I’m ready to. Which is definitely worse, at least where my job is concerned.

Cheryl just smiles, seasoned veteran that she is. “Thanks for taking the time. We just wanted to sit down and chat for a bit about Avery’s behavior at school.”

Nicole crosses her legs, then her arms, her face flat.

“As you know, Avery has been involved in more than a handful of situations with some of her classmates so far this year. Not only has she had some physical altercations, but she’s said some hurtful things to other students.”

“Yes,” Nicole says, “and I’ve been in contact with both you and the principal about it. Which is why I’m not sure why we’re here.”

“Well,” Cheryl begins, “we were hoping to just open a dialogue with you directly. See if we can come up with a solution.”

Nicole’s eyes shift to me. “And why isshehere?”

I cut in before Cheryl can answer. “I’m here because Cricket Wilson has been involved in almost all of the altercations, and she’s in my class.”

Her cool eyes narrow. “You’re here because she’s your stepdaughter.”

Calmly, I counter. “I’m here because I’m her teacher and have witnessed several of the incidents. I assure you, I’m fully capable of remaining unbiased?—”

“No one is unbiased when it comes to their child.”

My cheeks flame. “Technically, she’s not my child. And I’m under no illusions—I know she’s played some part in it too. But?—”

“You’re right. She has. Did you know she called my daughter a fat, ugly cow? Avery came home crying, said Cricket pushed her. She had a skinned knee with a bandage, so I know at least one of you must have known.”

Anger flares in my chest, but I manage to keep from reaching across the desk and scratching her eyes out. “Because Averypulled her hair so hard, a lock of it came out and drew blood. This, after she said Cricket’s father didn’t want her! It’s cruel?—”

“Did you hear her say that?” Nicole snaps over me. “Or did your child just say she did so she had an excuse to pushmychild? I’m not saying Avery is innocent?—”

“No, she’s not—she gave Cricket a skinned knee at the Ramblers game a few weeks ago and said she couldn’t cry to her mother because her mother is dead. I know you don’t want your child to hurt another kid like that?—”

“Again, didyouhear her say that? Because I’m not taking the word of a traumatized kid with new parents who calls my kid stupid because she’s in the lower reading and math groups! How aboutthatfor unkind?”

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