In my frustration, I toss the chalk across the room, ignoring the way it snaps and skitters in different directions.
When I look up, I catch sight of the wide green pair of eyes that stare at me, but I turn around and yell, “Class dismissed. Get out, all of you.”
I pray, that when I turn back, she won’t be here, wondering what the hell has gotten into me.
When I turn to face an empty room, I don’t feel any better.
I don’t deserve her. But I still fucking want her, still picture her in my life in a space I hadn’t even held for my ex-wife.
Someone needed to save her. From ruin…from me.
And it’d have to be me.