Page 31

CHAPTER 30

SHAKE IT OFF

CASS

A fter that, it’s real hard to survive everyday life with Wilder.

Take grocery shopping, for example. Wilder holding a melon in his huge hand, taking a deep whiff of its nipple/rind/whatever? A problem. Wilder with a cucumber in his fist? A bigger problem. Don’t even get me started on Wilder with his hands full of various cheeses.

Yes, even cheese. Especially cheese.

To be fair, he looks hot holding anything. A bag of peas. A basket of laundry.

His daughter.

I think I’ve been ovulating for eighteen days, ever since he promised to quit hitting on me. Two straight weeks. Every time I think it’s over, bam— here comes Wilder with a stack of dishes. And my poor, exhausted ovaries machine gun eggs at him like a sweaty, trigger-happy Rambo.

He’s respected my request to back off like an absolute fucking gentleman dickhead. How dare he just give me what I asked for. Like, how dare he just leave me alone to squirm and squiggle and want him. Maybe that was his plan all along—withhold all the flirting and touching and innuendo knowing full well we both want it…because he knows at some point I won’t be able to stand it anymore.

Honestly, it would be kind of genius on his part. Because he’s killing me. I am dying a slow, painful, sexless death by melon sniffing.

The whole thing is made worse when we have to pretend we’re together. Holding hands. His arm around my shoulders, the scent of him eternally all over me. The chaste kisses that just the other day turned into something deeper, thanks to my fists, which were full of his shirt and busy yanking him into me so I could suck his whole, entire, stupid face off.

Every day, that kick drum in my gut has gotten softer and softer. At this point, it’s barely a whisper. Nothing more than a fluttering. I just don’t know if that’s because I’m closer than ever to being ready or because I’m so horned up for him that good judgment has gone out the window.

Damn him. Damn the whole situation.

I am so fucking screwed.

So screwed, I need to get screwed before my head pops off my shoulders and shoots into the stratosphere.

And as if that isn’t bad enough, my feels have taken the form of a stampede of wild horses, thundering across my willpower until it’s been trampled to dust.

Sure, he quit hitting on me. But he hasn’t stopped being thoughtful or proactive or so goddamn capable. Watching him learn how to braid Cricket’s hair with his face all pinched in concentration? Get out. When he folds all her little laundry and puts it in her drawers for her? Illegal. How he wants to know every single day how my day was, asks follow up questions, and r emembers everything that I tell him?

Seriously, get the fuck out and don’t come back.

And I want to tell him. The other day, I realized I’ve been texting him before Jessa when something happens. I mean, I guess it kinda makes sense—he and I live together, share responsibilities. We have to talk about things that have nothing to do with either of us and everything to do with the both of us, like groceries and schedules and all. As such, I talk to him all the time. Even when I don’t have to.

I want to.

I want to see him walk in the door and smile at me. I hate when he’s gone at night and I have to go to bed without him—half the time we end up texting for an hour. When I’m tired or stressed or overwhelmed, he’s the one I want to talk to. He’s the one I want to give me a hug and tell me everything will be alright. Once upon a time, he was my best friend. I didn’t think he’d ever find his way back into that spot, but it’s looking more and more like he managed it despite the odds.

Unfortunately for my willpower, it makes him infinitely hotter. It’s gotten to the point that I beg him to come with me places so we’ll be in public and I can hold his hand or feel the bliss of his arm holding me into his side. Maybe even get a little kiss out of it. Last week we kissed at a game, and it was so hot and heavy, one of the church grannies broke it up and scolded us in front of everybody. Afterward, Wilder asked me for the sixth time if I changed my mind. And I almost said yes.

I’m not proud. But I’m not sorry, either.

I don’t know how many more times it’ll take before I cave when he asks me, but I’m guessing one? Two max. Potentially none, if I accidentally walk in on him getting out of the shower like I did the other day.

Honestly, I might skip talking and jump him. He’d figure it out quickly enough.

At least when I’m at work I don’t think about him as much. I’m so busy, there’s no time for anything but what’s in front of me. It’s been a whirlwind six weeks since Wilder told me we were married, he became a dad, and I started teaching. The heat made way for the crisp edge of fall, the weeks a blur of teaching and baseball and stress and fun and life . So much life, more than I’ve lived in years.

We finally got our hearing date, which will be here in another six weeks. And then I guess I’m supposed to take my divorce and leave. The thought makes my insides howl and shriek and thrash like an animal, a long, resounding no echoing around in my heart. But that’s what I signed up for. I swore I wouldn’t stay.

Might kill me to leave.

But that’s future Cass’s problem. Today Cass’s problem is about to walk through the door of Cheryl’s classroom. Because I’m about to have a conversation with the mother of the kid who’s been bullying my kid.

Mine. Mine?

The thought comes so easily it shocks me. She’s not mine, but I wish she was. I will fight for her like she is, and God help anybody who gets in the way of protecting her.

When Nicole Franks walks into the classroom, Cheryl and I stiffen, sharing a quick look of resignation as we stand to greet the angry mother. She’s tall and pretty, her ramrod straight hair in a tight ponytail and heels clicking as she marches toward us.

“Hello, Mrs. Franks,” Cheryl starts, smiling from her spot behind her desk. “Thank you for coming to?—”

“I had to reschedule an important showing for this,” she snaps, taking the seat across from us.

We sink into our chairs, and I shuffle the papers in my lap to give my hands something to do. My heart thumps hard in my chest, but I’m not nervous. I don’t want to argue, but I’m ready to. Which is definitely worse, at least where my job is concerned.

Cheryl just smiles, seasoned veteran that she is. “Thanks for taking the time. We just wanted to sit down and chat for a bit about Avery’s behavior at school.”

Nicole crosses her legs, then her arms, her face flat.

“As you know, Avery has been involved in more than a handful of situations with some of her classmates so far this year. Not only has she had some physical altercations, but she’s said some hurtful things to other students.”

“Yes,” Nicole says, “and I’ve been in contact with both you and the principal about it. Which is why I’m not sure why we’re here.”

“Well,” Cheryl begins, “we were hoping to just open a dialogue with you directly. See if we can come up with a solution.”

Nicole’s eyes shift to me. “And why is she here?”

I cut in before Cheryl can answer. “I’m here because Cricket Wilson has been involved in almost all of the altercations, and she’s in my class.”

Her cool eyes narrow. “You’re here because she’s your stepdaughter.”

Calmly, I counter. “I’m here because I’m her teacher and have witnessed several of the incidents. I assure you, I’m fully capable of remaining unbiased?—”

“No one is unbiased when it comes to their child.”

My cheeks flame. “Technically, she’s not my child. And I’m under no illusions—I know she’s played some part in it too. But?—”

“You’re right. She has. Did you know she called my daughter a fat, ugly cow? Avery came home crying, said Cricket pushed her. She had a skinned knee with a bandage, so I know at least one of you must have known.”

Anger flares in my chest, but I manage to keep from reaching across the desk and scratching her eyes out. “Because Avery pulled her hair so hard, a lock of it came out and drew blood. This, after she said Cricket’s father didn’t want her! It’s cruel?—”

“Did you hear her say that?” Nicole snaps over me. “Or did your child just say she did so she had an excuse to push my child? I’m not saying Avery is innocent?—”

“No, she’s not—she gave Cricket a skinned knee at the Ramblers game a few weeks ago and said she couldn’t cry to her mother because her mother is dead. I know you don’t want your child to hurt another kid like that?—”

“Again, did you hear her say that? Because I’m not taking the word of a traumatized kid with new parents who calls my kid stupid because she’s in the lower reading and math groups! How about that for unkind?”

A shocked noise escapes me—I’m too stunned to speak.

Before either of us can say anything else, Cheryl lays a hand on my knee and holds one up to Nicole. “Now, hang on please. Let’s take a breath and remember we’re here to help the girls sort this out.”

“Are we?” Nicole shouts, jabbing a finger in my direction. “Because it feels like you brought her in here to outnumber me.”

Cheryl frowns, blinking. “Now wait a second,”

“How dare you two gang up on me like this. It’s not Avery’s fault that your kid is unstable and causing problems at school. And it’s not my job to fix your kid either. That responsibility is yours. ” She stands, red faced, snatching her purse off the back of the chair. “Unless some disciplinary action is taking place, I think we’re through here.”

We’re out of our seats. Cheryl is trying to smile, saying, “Please, Mrs. Franks—can we just sit down and talk about this like adults?”

“No, I don’t think we can. And I hope you know that I’ll be speaking to the principal about all of this, as well as the school board. Get your kid in check,” she shoots at me. “And leave mine alone.”

She spins on her heel, leaving us gaping at her back as she storms out of the room.

I sink into my chair and plant my face in my palms. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t believe Nicole lied about what Cricket said. And there’s no excuse for that.

My shame and disappointment are complete.

Cheryl’s hand is warm on my shoulder, when she sits next to me. “You okay?”

I groan into my hands and drag myself up to sit. “What are we going to do?”

Cheryl sighs, shaking her head. “All we can do is be present in class. But…”

When she doesn’t finish, panic grips me. “What?”

“Well, Nicole’s father-in-law is the head of the school board. And they could stir up a lot of trouble for us. For you.” A pause. “I think from here, I’d better handle this with her directly.”

“I think you’re right. I’m sorry I couldn’t just…I don’t know. Smile and not say all the things I wanted to say.”

“Don’t apologize—you love Cricket and she’s suffering after already suffering so much. Of course you want to defend her. So here’s what we’re going to do. You go get Cricket and take her home. Talk to her. Guide her as best you can. I’m going to talk to the principal and let her know what happened before she gets a call. Moving forward, let’s just try our best to keep the girls away from each other and help them mediate here at school. Maybe we can get the counselor involved too. How does that sound?”

I nod, miserable and angry and sad. But I let out a heavy exhale and stand. “Thank you, Cheryl. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

“You’re not any trouble, Cassidy. Sadly, this kind of parent is more common than not. You’ll figure out how to weather them soon enough.”

A laugh puffs out of me. “You say that like I’m capable of not arguing with somebody I think is wrong.”

But her face is heavy with warning. “This is part of the job, for better or for worse. So if you want to keep it, you’ve gotta figure out how.”

Cowed, I nod, my eyes on the ground as I exit her classroom and slither into mine to get my bag. I head toward the library where Cricket sits at a teeny tiny table next to Molly with a stack of books on the surface between them. Cricket looks so small, my heart breaks. It breaks a second time at the thought of her being so cruel to Avery, despite what Avery has done to her. She smiles up at me, her toothless grin now half grown in.

The third break of my heart shatters it.

My girl, who I love so, so much.

It’s bittersweet, to have the realization at a time I can’t celebrate it.

I smile back, though I know it’s wan at best. Extending a hand, I say, “Come on, bug. Ready to go home?”

She nods, sliding out of her chair to hug Molly around the neck, then hopping over to me to take my hand.

Molly and I share a smile and say our goodbyes, and Cricket and I exit the school in silence. There’s a nip in the air—Cricket tucks into my side to keep warm as all the things I want to say whirl around my brain like the wind lashing our legs. I help her into the truck and she watches me, worried.

“Am I in trouble?” she asks once I’m in the driver’s seat, starting the truck.

I glance at her with a brow arched. “Why? Should you be?”

She chews her lip, glancing at the floorboard. “I dunno.”

Backing up, I make it a point not to look at her. “You don’t?”

She shrugs in my periphery.

“Do you have something to tell me?”

For a second, Cricket says nothing, and I give her the space, hoping she’ll find the words.

Finally, she says, “Sometimes, I’m not nice to Avery either.”

Relief at her confession eases the tension wound through me. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

With a deep breath, she does. “Sometimes I just get so mad, Cass. Avery is so mean. She hurts my feelings, she hurts me—and Caden too. So sometimes I just…I just want to push her first. Or say something mean before her.”

“I get that,” I say softly.

“I hate her,” the words are shaky and biting.

“Hey, now. We don’t hate anybody.”

“I don’t hate anybody except her. She…she says things about Mama. About Daddy and you. It’s not fair. It’s not f-fair that she can do whatever she wants and doesn’t get in trouble, but I do.” Fat tears roll down her cheeks, streaking them.

The crumbled bits of my heart are officially dust.

“I know, baby. But hurting her back isn’t the answer. I know it feels better when you’re hurting, but you’ve gotta stop.”

“Why? She doesn’t stop. She won’t leave me alone!” she cries.

“You just have to stay away from her?—”

“I do! I do try! She follows me or finds me. She always finds me.” Cricket wails, her face tight and red and wet from tears before curling in on herself, sobbing.

I can’t take it anymore. I pull off into the Dollar General parking lot and turn off the truck, undoing her seatbelt so I can slide her across the bench and into my lap. She cries and cries and cries, and I hold her, staring out the front window with a thousand thoughts firing at once.

After a long time, her tears run dry, and she sniffles, hiccupping. “It’s not fair,” she whispers.

“It’s not. I know. I wish grownups had the answers. I wish I could be everywhere at once so I could save you from getting hurt. Nothing about it is fair.”

“What did her mom say?” she asks carefully.

I sigh and try not to lie. “She wanted to talk about how hurt Avery has been.”

“Was she mad?”

“Yes. She was mad, but only because she loves Avery. Just like I love you.”

A sob breaks from her, and she burrows into my chest. “I love you too.”

I hang onto her like she’ll fly away if I let her go. Tears of my own fall.

“I was mad too, Cricket. I was so, so mad because seeing you in pain hurts me too. I want to protect you so much, I’d do anything to make sure you’re safe. So I understand how her mom feels, in my way. But we’re going to figure this out. Okay?”

She nods against my chest, and I kiss the top of her head.

“In the meantime, I don’t want you to talk to Avery. I don’t want you to look at her. If she comes near, you leave and come find me. Let her say whatever she wants, don’t say a word back. You just come straight to me or Ms. Panko, or any other teacher you can find. Then she’s the only one who gets in trouble, and no one will be able to argue that.”

For a second, she’s quiet. “What if she lies and says it was me?”

“Then let her. I’ll always believe you if you always tell me the truth. Deal?”

Another nod, and she pulls away to sit up, sliding back over to her seat and buckling up.

“You ready to go say bye to your dad for the weekend?”

At that, she smiles, still sniffling. “Can we listen to Taylor?”

“Heck yeah, we can,” I say with a grin and crank up “Shake It Off.”

And we scream it the whole way to the fire station.