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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Josie

Playing it cool.

I step into my classroom and freeze. Ken is already here. Standing at the back of the room, working on the computers like nothing happened.

Like I dreamt last night.

Like he didn’t just ruin me for all future men and then leave when I asked him to. He could have at least hesitated instead of bolting for his car. My stomach does a weird, nervous flip as I force my feet to keep moving.

Do I say good morning?

Do I just... pretend we didn’t spend half the night tangled in each other?

My overthinking is going at warp speed, and I barely register that I’m staring at him too hard, too long—until his head tilts slightly, his sharp blue eyes flicking toward me.

Oh, God. He caught me.

I rip my gaze away, heat crawling up my neck. Be normal, Josie. Just be normal. “Good morning,” I say, trying for casual. It comes out too high-pitched.

Ken—damn him—doesn’t even look up from his work. “Morning,” he says, tone cool, professional.

That’s it? That’s it?

I’m about to spiral when my students begin to enter and one runs up to my desk in full panic mode. The little girl says, “Ms. Rhodes! My fingers smell like pickles and I don’t know why!”

I drag my attention from Ken to the child before me. “Did you eat a pickle?”

“Yesterday,” she says in horror.

Taking a wild guess, I ask, “Have you washed your hands since then?” When her response is a long blank look, I suggest, “Why don’t you go wash your hands now.”

Ken makes a sound from the corner of the room, but when I look over there, he’s sitting in front of one of the computers, lost in his work.

It bothers me more than I want to admit that Ken doesn’t come over to say hello. If he did, I would have had to tell him that I was teaching so we’d have to talk later, but he could at least look like he wants to engage with me.

I force myself to focus on my students and we gather in a group on the rug for a story, the morning meeting, and a lesson. No matter how many times I steal a glance at him I don’t catch him looking at me—not once.

I hear him swear, but none of my students seem to notice so I continue with my lesson. He seems to be frustrated with something. You know what? Good. Let him be. That’s what he gets for pretending we didn’t just have mind-bending sex.

Unless it wasn’t as good for him as it was for me.

Oh, no. I never thought of that. What if... what if...

“Ms. Rhodes, are you going to finish the story?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” I say and return to reading the book I forgot I was holding up.

As I’m dividing the children into groups for centers, I hear what sounds like a head crashing into a table and another swear. I stand, deciding I have to tell him to watch his language around the little ones.

One of my students, Caleb, beats me to him and I pause to see why. Ken is rubbing the back of his head, and for a moment Caleb just stands and watches him. When Ken looks up and notices him there, he growls, “What?”

I almost intervene, but Caleb looks like he has something he wants to say. “It’s okay, Mr. Tech man. I get frustrated too.”

Ken’s expression goes completely blank. I could have pull Caleb back, but I want to see how Ken responds.

Ken straightens. “I’m not frustrated.”

Caleb nods solemnly. “It’s okay if you are. Ms. Rhodes says if something’s too easy, you’re not learning. But if it’s too hard, you can ask for help.”

Ken looks up and catches me watching. I could have imagined it, but for just a moment I thought there was a deep sadness in his eyes. Like no one has ever checked in on him before.

Caleb tilts his head, looking at the computer screen. He steps closer. “Do you want me to take a look? I have a computer at home.”

Ken gives him a long look, then smiles. Not the wide, charming smile he was passing out yesterday. It’s small, barely there, but real.

When he speaks, his voice is gruff but warmer, “Thanks, kid. I’m okay.”

“Caleb. My name is Caleb.”

“Thanks, Caleb, for checking in on me. I feel better now.”

Caleb’s face lights up and he turns to me with such pride. I nod for him to go back to the rug and he goes.

The look Ken and I exchange is complicated, heated, and confusing as all hell. “You okay today?” I ask with real concern.

He frowns, shakes his head, then I swear a switch flips in him and the smile he shot me doesn’t match the hardness in his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. I forgot to bring the wires I needed.”

I inhale sharply. Okay. So we’re playing it cool. I can do that. “Well, keep your methods of expressing yourself low enough so the kids can’t hear you.”

His eyebrows rise and fall. “Sorry, didn’t know my voice traveled that far.”

I try to look as composed and chill as he does. “That’s fine. They’re just little parrots so it’s best to be vigilant about what you say.”

“I will be.”

I stand there for too long, before saying, “Okay, thanks.” and walk back over to where my students are all surprisingly in the centers I sent them to and actively engaged. At least I’m not failing in all areas of my life.

Later that morning, right after I drop off my class at gym, my phone rings. I answer without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

It’s my mother and she sounds frazzled. “Josie! Your dad fell off a ladder!”

My heart stops. “What? Is he okay?”

“He broke his leg! They’re setting it now. They might keep him for observation because his blood pressure is so high. I need help getting the house ready for when he comes home. I know you’re at work, but if there’s any way you could come...”

“We have a building sub; I’ll take a half day. Do you want me at the hospital?”

“No, the house. Can you help me get it ready in case he comes home tonight? We have so much stacked in the mudroom and that’s the easiest way into the house with the fewest stairs.”

“Got it.”

I head into my classroom, grab a sub plan packet, put it out on my desk, then grab my purse. My principal won’t love that I’m leaving, but my family comes first. Fire me if you have to.

Ken steps out of nowhere and blocks my exit. “Everything okay?”

I jump. “Yeah, I just—I have to go home. My dad got hurt, and my mom needs help getting everything ready for when he gets out of the hospital.”

Ken nods once. “I’ll drive you.”

What? “You don’t have to—”

“Tell me where we’re going.”

Just like that. No debate. No hesitation. It is actually nice.

Maybe I’ve completely misread the situation.

Maybe last night did mean something to him.

My head is still spinning a short time later when Ken decides he should drive and opens the passenger side door for me. Part of me wants to argue. My car. My parents. Buddy, you don’t even know where you’re going.

BUT...

I’m worried about my father and that has my nerves a little frayed. It’s nice to have someone step in and take some of the weight off my shoulders.

Sadly, though, allowing Ken to drive gives me way too much time to think. The air between us is heavy, weird, filled with everything we’re not saying. I should just let it go. Let it be what it was. But I can’t. Because it was too good to be nothing.

I stare out the window, then blurt out—“So... are we pretending last night didn’t happen?”

Ken’s tone is even and calm. “I don’t know, are we?”

I growl deep in my throat and fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t care. The way you bolted for your car should have prepared me for this morning, but I get it now.” What am I doing? I need to shut up. Right now.

Ken exhales through his nose like he’s holding back laughter. “You told me to leave.”

I flail an arm in front of me. “I didn’t ask you to sprint.”

He lets out a real, actual laugh. “Should I have lingered?”

And suddenly, I want to die. Like sink right through the floor of the car, dead. Instead, I slink deeper into my seat and avert my face again. “Forget I said anything.”

“My model didn’t come with a delete button. Sorry.”

I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or if I’m over-reacting because I’m worried about my father. What I do know is that it’s over an hour to my parents’ house and I can’t do this the whole way. Defiantly I say, “I had a great time last night. I’m old enough to understand that it doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship. So I don’t know what your problem is.”

“I had a great time last night too. I don’t have an issue with us being in a relationship now. So I don’t know what your problem is.”

I mull that for a moment. “You don’t have an issue with being in a relationship with me? Because...”

His eyebrows go up like I’m missing something obvious. “Because I like you?”

“Oh.” I chew my thumbnail briefly before saying, “I like you too.”

“So we don’t have a problem,” he says in a firm voice.

And something about our conversation tickles my sense of humor. I turn to him, see his stern expression, decide he handles being uncertain as well as I do, and let out a nervous chuckle. “Did we just argue our way into dating?”

His expression softens slightly. “It does appear that way.”

I lay my hand on his thigh to comfort him. “I’m sorry I made things weird. I didn’t mean to.”

He glances down at my hand then back at the road. Does he not want me to touch him? He is not easy to figure out. Just when I’m about to retract my hand, he lays one of his over it and gives mine a squeeze.

And I’m both confused and all smitten again.