Page 43 of Reckless Desire

Don’t fuck with me, asshole. “That’s what happens when it rains.”

I continue walking because the animosity sweeping through me at the sight of him is unreasonable. I can’t remember the last time I completely lost command of my emotions. Not for years, surely. A few hours with Sydney and my self-control is nonexistent.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he dares to ask.

I whip around. “Who are you?”

“Principal Dan Ravinski. And you?” He doesn’t approach me to shake hands—he glares at me, exuding authority I suppose. And failing. But now I know where I’ve seen his face. The school sent out an email announcing his hiring.

“I’m a parent picking up my daughter. If you’ll excuse me, I’m running late already.” I start walking again, the sound of my soles deafening. After a beat, the creak of his shoes recedes. Smart decision, asshole.

The door of Caro’s class is ajar and I hear her soft voice. I stop and realize she is telling a story, but she is struggling to get the words out. I peek through the opening.

Sydney sits beside Caro. Every adult who sits at those kid’s desks looks ridiculous, like a giant in a dwarf’s house. No one can retain their dignity when siting on those Lilliput chairs.

Somehow, Sydney appears gracious. She is wearing a red top with a V-neckline and my eyes travel down her cleavage. Her hair is up in a messy bun, exposing her neck. I can’t decide where I want to sink my teeth first. The swell of her breast or her clavicle.

Snap out of it, asshole.

I will my eyes back to Caro. She is not telling a story, she is reading it. My stomach tightens. To my surprise, while she seems to fight with the page, her posture is fairly relaxed. She finishes a sentence and looks at Sydney.

“Well done, Caro. You’ve made such good progress already. Don’t read anymore today. Tomorrow afternoon you can read with your dad or grandma again. Let your reading brain rest a little.” She winks and Caro beams.

She notices me then. “Dad, did you hear? Mrs. Lowe says I made progress.”

Seeing her this pleased with anything school-related is such a shock that I have to blink a few times. “I heard you reading, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. Mrs. Lowe is an excellent teacher.”

I avoid Sydney’s eyes, because part of me wishes I didn’t find good qualities in her. So what, she is good at her job. And she’s helping Caro. Fuck, if that’s not adding to her attractiveness.

Caro comes over to hug me but stops short. “Did you forget the umbrella?” She puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head. Her typical I-can’t-believe-how-dense-you-are gesture is adorable and annoying at the same time.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Caro’s reading,” Sydney says. She lifts something from Caro’s book. It’s a piece of cardboard with a tiny rectangular cutout. “When Caro covers the rest of the page, she can focus better on each individual word, which helps her read it. It’s a simple aid, but it works for now. When you have a moment, I’d like to understand how her previous school addressed her learning needs.”

Sydney doesn’t say learning issues or disabilities, she simply calls them needs. It rolls around my chest with surprising warmth.

“Caro, go to use the bathroom before we leave. I’ll talk to your teacher while I wait.” I kiss the top of her head.

“Can we go to visit Mommy?” she says, surprising me. “I’d like to read for her.”

“We’ll go another day. It’s raining today.”

She nods and leaves the room.

“Her learning needs were addressed with pressure and ridicule.” I avoid Sydney’s gaze and stare out the window. “She was under constant stress, and then the little fuckers in her class made fun of her.” It’s hard to explain how badly we failed our little girl and the memory of it coils around my nerves, angering me all over again.

Sydney sighs, then turns to look in the same direction I am. We’re silent for a moment before I chance a look at her. Her forehead is ridden with lines, as if considering what she wants to say next.

“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s pretty much lost the first two years of reading level and she has a lot of catching up to do.” Her words hit me with devastating precision, though she doesn’t sound accusatory. Her tone is soothing, her voice warm. “We’ll definitely help her with writing and reading, that’s not an issue. It’s her self-confidence and self-worth that need work. She told me she thinks she’s stupid.”

I lower my head and rub my nape. “Thank you for helping her, and for treating it as a fixable problem.” Not only did I realize way too late that Caro needed help, now I’ve avoided the problem for a week because I can’t keep my priorities straight. “What can I do?”

“Read with her daily and praise her for her progress. Has she been tested for dyslexia?”

Sydney remains standing behind Caro’s little desk, probably ensuring there’s distance between us. Or I’m making shit up.

“No. The first year in school she memorized all the words they were reading and instead of reading she recited. Her last teacher discovered Caro was practically illiterate only in the second grade, but it was explained by either her laziness or the situation at home.”

Sydney winces and chews on her lip for a moment. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but the contact information in her file is only yours and her grandma's. Are you divorced?”

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