Page 90 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

Next to him, Jessica bobs her little blonde head. “It’s my favorite.”

The other dozen kids on the rug chatter and nod their agreement.

I glance up at the clock hanging above the classroom door. “Can anyone tell me what time it is?”

Abigail raises her hand. “Ooh, ooh, me! Me!”

“Yes, Abby?”

She checks out the clock again before turning back to face me. “It’s eleven-thirty.”

“And what do we do at eleven-thirty?”

Connor bounces up and down, barely able to contain his excitement. “We go to lunch.”

“Yes. You’ll go to lunch as soon as Michaela comes.”

And I’ll get half an hour that I normally take to catch up and check in on social media and texts to bury my face in my arms on my desk and try to nap. I barely slept at all last night after Flynn left, and we barely slept at all the two nights before. Every bone and muscle in my body reminds me of that fact with extreme vengeance. I’m just exhausted—emotionally and physically—and a few minutes of uninterrupted quiet time is what I need right now.

The door in the classroom opens, and Michaela pops her head in. I wish I had her in the room with me all day today, but I needed her to organize some projects for this afternoon, so I’ve been flying solo most of the morning.

She waves to the kids. “Come on, guys. Time to head down to the cafeteria.”

They all climb to their feet and race toward the door.

Michaela holds up her hands. “No running!”

Their little feet slow down, barely, and they form a single-file line. Michaela does the headcount and waves to me. “Have a great lunch!”

I wave her off. “At least I’ll try.”

Though I have no confidence in my ability to keep myself together once the only thing I have to think about is what happened.

I shove the offending children’s book back onto the bookshelf and release a heavy sigh. Only a few more hours ‘til I can head home. Although home might not much be much better. Not when I know Flynn is right next door.

Living so close used to be such a major benefit, but now, it feels more like a curse.

I push myself off the stool and trudge over to my desk. Trepidation tightens around my heart as I slide open the top drawer and lower myself into my seat. My phone sits exactly where I left it. But there aren’t any new messages.

Was I hoping he would text or call or that he wouldn’t?

It seems I don’t know what the hell I want anymore.

I grab it and slide open my emails. Junk. Junk. Junk. Junk. A text message pops up on the screen.

Bash.

I hope I’m catching you at lunch.

Maybe talking to big brother is exactly what I need to keep my mind occupied. His timing couldn’t be better. I press the button to call him right away.

“Hey, Rach. Everything Okay? I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

I lean into my chair and let my head fall back so I can stare at the white popcorn ceiling.

How much should I tell Bash?

Just enough to get some advice but not enough to reveal all of mine and Flynn’s secrets.

---