Page 41

K ENDALL

Nash doesn’t text me on Monday, and when his parents pick up Paisley, they look frazzled and are in such a hurry that they don’t even say hello. It’s nothing personal, I know this, but still, I feel like I’ve been snubbed.

When Tuesday passes without a flirty text or a stupid GIF from Nash, I begin to worry that I pushed him away with my lack of response to his sweet words. By the end of the day, I’m distracted and on edge with my class.

And when Mindy appears in my classroom doorway, my first thought is something happened to Nash’s parents. My throat swells and my head swims with the most dreaded possibilities.

“Mindy? Are Beth and Joe okay?”

She smiles at me, and my racing heart slows. “They should have landed in Seattle by now.”

“Seattle?”

“Nash’s sister needed to go on bed rest, so their parents flew out to help out with the kids. Nash asked if I could pick up Paisley. My sister is still in town and is with the kids now.”

“Oh.” Nash asked for Mindy’s help and not mine. My stomach drops and I do my best to hide my disappointment. “Paisley will be excited to play with your boys.”

“I hope so. They’ve only met once before. As you know, Nash is as private with his daughter as he is himself.”

“Yes, he is.” I turn from her and crouch next to Paisley, who is playing paper dolls with Olivia. “Paisley, do you remember your daddy’s friends, Darius and Mindy?”

She looks up at me with eyes as dark as her father’s and scrunches her nose. “Daddy doesn’t have any friends except you.”

I chuckle. “You went to their house for Mikey’s birthday party a few weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well, Mindy is going to bring you to her house to play with her boys today. Let’s get your winter gear and your backpack.”

She hops to her feet and rushes to her cubby. Mindy joins us and helps Paisley with her coat. “Do you like sledding?”

“Yeah!”

“We have a small hill at our house. Robbie and Mikey will love having you over to sled with them.”

“Can Miss Wentworth come too?”

I smooth Paisley’s hair down. “Not today. Go have fun with your new friends.”

“Okay. Bye Miss Wentworth. I love you.” She hugs my legs and takes Mindy’s hand.

My throat catches as I watch them leave my room and I realize how easily I’m replaced. I never mattered to Jason. I matter to Paisley when I’m with her, but out of sight, out of mind. And if I meant something at all to Nash, he would have called me when he needed help with Paisley.

Three months ago, he was pissed as hell at his parents for entrusting his daughter’s life in my hands. Then I became the only one other than family who he trusted. Now, I’m no one again.

After my last student is picked up, I sign up for a kickboxing class to get out my anger and to hide my grief. When I get home two hours later, Dani reminds me how special I am. That I’m needed and loved.

I spend the evening playing a Disney matching game with her and Mom and ignore my phone until I go to bed. When there are still no messages from Nash by my lunch break on Wednesday, I contemplate checking in with him to see how his sister is doing.

But I don’t. Reaching out shows a sign of weakness. That he can get to me. His sweet words last week when we made love—because that’s how he made me feel—and then again in the car Sunday night, are nearly forgotten.

They’re words. Empty words. Jason was filled with them. Actions speak a fuck ton louder than words. The only way to get over a broken heart is by showing Nash I don’t care. That he doesn’t matter.

It’ll be easier since he’s away this weekend in Texas for a game.

I won’t have to worry about him or his friends showing up at a bar while I search for my next hookup.

I should text him now to let him know our friends with benefits status is over and I’ll be spreading my legs for someone else—someone who can’t hurt me—but I foolishly wait.

The kids are restless and extra crazy on Thursday.

Or maybe it’s my patience level dropping.

Owen spilled red paint on Olivia’s desk, and she screamed and cried, thinking it was blood, even though she saw the painting Owen was working on.

That escalated into three other students crying at the sight of blood, which it wasn’t, but tell that to a classroom full of five and six year olds.

The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough. I plaster on my pleasant teacher face as parents, grandparents, and nannies pick up their children. A young woman, one I’ve never met before, stands in the doorway, glancing around my room.

With so many wealthy families connected to the school, security is tight. I make sure the six remaining students are accounted for, then block the woman’s view of my kids.

“Can I help you?”

She hands me the ticket the main office gives when there’s a new person vetted and approved for pick up.

“Hi. I’m Ella. I’m here to get Paisley Humphries.”

Prickles rush up my spine and my protective hackles come out. “And you are...?”

“Ella. Ella Thornton.”

“What is your connection to Paisley?” It’s not my place to ask when our front office has already approved the pick-up, which means the family approved, which means Nash sent this pretty, young, Ella person to get his daughter.

Is that why he’s been ghosting me all week? He’s already moved on? It doesn’t add up, especially how...sweet he’s been to me, but I can’t help the jealousy and insecurity that flares up.

“Hey, Paisley,” Ella says, looking behind me. “Ready to go home?”

“Sure,” my little traitor says as she goes to her cubby to gather her things. She doesn’t seem overly enthused—which for some reason makes me feel better—but recognizes this Ella person, so I back down.

“Bye, Miss Wentworth.” Paisley hugs my legs. “I love you.”

Fuck. My heart melts and I bend lower to squeeze her back. I don’t return the sentiment because it isn’t appropriate in this setting, but I hug her longer than I do my other students. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sweet Pea.”

Nash’s nickname for her slips from me. She doesn’t seem surprised and follows Ella out of my classroom.

My confusion and anger from this week have only intensified. If he needs help with Paisley, he could have asked me. He should have asked me. None of this makes sense, and with every hour that goes by without hearing from him, I grow angrier.

I don’t even care if he’s sleeping with this Ella person— lies, I do care —but he could do the decent thing we agreed on and tell me about her.

After another intense kickboxing workout, I’m a little calmer. While I’m showering, I talk myself out of believing he’s sleeping with her. Nash isn’t that guy. But he did ask for a stranger to watch his daughter instead of reaching out to me.

Not only did he not reach out to me, but he also blatantly ignored me. I’m so not cool with that.

After my mom and sister are in bed, I sneak out of the house to avoid the questions I know they’ll ask.

Mom’s been eyeing me a lot this week. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask if I’m okay, but she doesn’t.

She’s learned that I’ll talk when I’m ready.

I love and respect her for giving me my space.

It’s hard being thirty-two and still living at home. I still abide by my mother’s house rules and check in with her when I’m coming and going, and she gives me my space when needed.

It’s almost ten o’clock when I get to Nash’s. The upstairs lights are on, but there’s a glow from the downstairs windows. There’s an unfamiliar car in the driveway, and my stomach does that uncomfortable thing where it doesn’t know if it should cramp up or have me running for the bathroom.

Ignoring the cramps, I march up to the front door, and before I pound on it with my fist like I want to, I take a deep breath. There’s no need to wake up Paisley, even though she could sleep through a category five hurricane.

I roll my shoulders back, clear my throat, and knock on the door like a sweet little Girl Scout.

When no one answers, I knock harder. This time the door opens, and Ella answers.

She’s in the same jeans and sweatshirt from this afternoon, but her hair is piled in a messy bun that looks more stylish than messy, and I kinda hate her for how easily she makes sloppy look good.

“Can I help you?” she has the balls to ask, which makes me no longer kinda hate her. Now I totally despise her.

“I’m here to see Nash.”

“And you are—” Realization hits her face, and she smiles at me. The fucking audacity. “You’re Paisley’s teacher, Miss Wentworth. Is everything okay? Is it normal to do house calls this late? Oh, come in. It’s freezing out.” She pulls the door open and I step into Nash’s foyer.

“Is Nash here?”

“He’s in the shower but he should be out soon.”

Shower ? I take a deep breath, my chest puffing out as it fills with air. I tell my inner bitch not to grab her by her fucking cute messy bun and throat punch her.

“Can I get you something to drink while we wait for him?”

There will be no we about it. I’m about to tell her to get the fuck out of this house when Nash comes down the stairs. Fuck me. He’s wearing his glasses, a zip up hoodie, and gray sweatpants.

“Kendall?” He stops on the bottom step and cocks his head to the side. “What are you doing here?”

My stomach is no longer cramping, but my throat closes and I fight back the tears.

I’m not a fucking crier, but the scene is all too familiar.

It shouldn’t matter this time though because Nash and I aren’t in a relationship.

We’re fuck buddies. We were fuck buddies.

I hate myself more than the little Ella bimbo and Nash fucking can’t-keep-his-dick-in-his-sexy-gray-sweats for being jealous.

This was a no emotions and no feelings gig we had. It’s my fault for allowing the butterflies and romantic hearts to fill my stomach and head.

“If you don’t need me anymore, Nash, I’ll get going. See you tomorrow?” Ella gets her coat from the closet and heads to the door.

Nash opens it for her. “I’ll be home around dinner time.”