Page 9

Chapter Nine

B eing back at work felt strangely liberating. It was like I had a part of my identity back when the rest of my world had abandoned me.

I might not have my apartment, my boyfriend, or my sanity, but I still had my job, and I was good at what I did. It didn’t hurt that it gave me something else to focus on. An idle mind lets the demons in and all that. At least, mine did.

In the last forty-eight hours, I’d let myself wallow, and I’d let myself cry. Now, I needed to get back into action and figure out my life. Things happened, plans changed, and people let you down. I’d always known that. How could I not, with the upbringing I’d had? But still, I’d been stupid. Six years in a relationship had lulled me into a false sense of security. For some silly reason, I thought it had meant something.

Still, I could treat it as a reminder. You can’t really count on anyone but yourself. That’s just the way it was. And thankfully, I still had me.

Not that I felt very much like myself as I walked into school wearing Maggie’s clothes. I’d been too much of a coward to grab any of my own after the fiasco of yesterday morning. Usually, I wore colors or florals or some type of pastel palette, but today, I was rocking Maggie’s fierce pencil skirt with a fitted black turtleneck. While she always looked stunning, I felt like I’d stepped out of a Tim Burton movie.

At least I had my coffee, courtesy of my new temporary roommate. I’d woken up at a normal time this morning, resigned to the fact that I’d have to lean on Liam’s generosity for a little while longer. After getting ready at a leisurely pace, I’d come downstairs to find that he was already gone.

On the counter, there’d been a note, written short and simply, letting me know he’d gone to the gym. Beside it sat a thermos filled with hot, intoxicating coffee. At first, it didn’t register. I thought for sure he’d made it for himself and forgotten it, but he didn’t seem the type to forget anything. Besides, it smelled so good, and I was in dire need of caffeine. If he’d left it behind, why let it go to waste?

So, with Maggie’s clothes on my back and Liam’s coffee in my hand, I carried tokens from both of the Brynn siblings with me, like armor that might shield me from the cold, harsh world.

I had just gotten into the teachers’ room when I felt my phone buzz in my bag. Holding my coffee up in one hand, I used the other to dig through my belongings until I pulled the device out.

On the screen was a text notification from a number I hadn’t saved. I frowned down at the message that didn’t give any indication of who the sender might be.

UNKNOWN: ?

The text came from another iPhone.

CASSIE: God?

UNKNOWN: What?

CASSIE: Sorry, lol. Who is this?

UNKNOWN: Oh, sorry. It’s Liam. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t screw up your number.

My heart jolted. Liam was texting me?

CASSIE: How did you get my number?

I shot back, curious.

LIAM: Maggie.

I hesitated, mulling over what exactly to say to my friend’s brother-turned-roommate. Before I could figure it out, another text came through.

LIAM: I just wanted to let you know I made a spare key, and it’s under the doormat for you.

I felt a rush of warmth at how unexpected it was. I hadn’t pegged Liam as the type to make a spare key for anyone, least of all a temporary roommate he didn’t even want.

CASSIE: You didn’t have to do that.

I grinned down at the phone, a fluttery feeling spreading in my chest because of the fact he had.

CASSIE: Don’t worry. I won’t be there long enough to warrant a whole spare key made in my honor.

I saw his response bubbles pop up and disappear. Finally, his text came.

LIAM: I’m not worried.

He was a man of few words, that was for sure. Me? I was more of a verbal sparrer, which usually translated to text. Still, there was something endearing about his simplicity. Maybe that’s why I found myself not wanting the conversation to end, even when he wasn’t giving me much to work with.

CASSIE: Well, aren’t you worried that now I can be in and out of your apartment whenever I want? How do you know I’m not going to make a copy of the key and use it even when I move out just because your guest bed is soooo much more comfortable than anywhere else I’ve ever slept?

His response was faster this time.

LIAM: I think I’ll catch the culprit quickly when I hear the Friends theme song playing in the dead of the night.

I let out an embarrassing cackle, amused by the solemn, withdrawn guy I’d first met now cracking a joke with me over text.

I wanted to respond, but I figured he probably had texted me as a courtesy and surely had much better things to do with his time than sit there responding to silly little words I’d typed on a screen.

But that didn’t stop me from smiling down at my phone like an idiot as I reread the messages, which apparently did not go unnoticed by my coworkers.

“What’s got you beaming so early in the morning?” Jana’s voice startled me back into reality.

I blushed, racing to put my phone away as if I were caught doing something I shouldn’t.

“Just happy to be here,” I said with a grin as the art teacher peered at me knowingly over her mug.

Dropping my stuff down onto one of the tables, I pulled out my lesson plan book to go over details for the next week. Some teachers dreaded the lesson planning, but for me, it was a reprieve. Lost in thought over crafts to prep and new songs to introduce, I didn’t hear Marissa until she was standing directly in front of me.

“No rainbows today?” The fourth-grade teacher peered down at me with a tilt of her head.

“What?” I blinked up at her curiously.

“You’re usually all—” She searched for the word, making an exaggerated hand motion toward my clothes. “Rainbowy,” she concluded, her tone indicating that it wasn’t meant as a compliment.

“But today.” She gave me the once over. “You’re looking distinctly normal.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks at the insinuation that the way I usually dressed wasn’t considered normal. I scratched at my collar, suddenly feeling out of place.

“Oh, I had to borrow a friend’s clothes,” I explained quickly. “I wasn’t able to get home because—well, there’s been some changes—but I needed something to wear today, so—” I trailed off, cringing at the way I always seemed to word-vomit answers at people.

I didn’t have to. I didn’t owe anyone the personal, intimate details of my private life. And I was sure they weren’t interested in hearing it either. So, why did I always feel the need to explain myself?

Marissa arched a brow at my rambling, nodding slowly at my scatterbrained speech.

Humiliating, I thought to myself, wondering why every encounter with her made me feel like an incompetent idiot.

“I think you look very elegant,” Jana offered from her spot across the room.

“Thank you,” I answered, deflated, forcing myself not to sink deeper into my seat.

My phone buzzed again, and I jumped at the chance to excuse myself from Marissa’s scrutiny.

It was a text from Maggie telling me that she was heading over to my apartment to get my stuff for me. I heaved a sigh of relief and shot a text back, telling her I didn’t deserve her. And really, I didn’t.

She hated Dave. Always had. Yet, she was sacrificing time out of her day to go over and get my stuff so I didn’t have to see him again. Maggie was as selfless as they came, and apparently, as I was beginning to realize, it was a family trait.

Gathering my stuff, I headed to the classroom, taking immediate comfort in the space I’d created to be a warm, inviting, safe haven for my students.

How was it that I could feel so utterly powerless out in the real world, interacting with people my own age, yet totally at ease around a group of kids?

The tension started to bleed off of me with each child that trickled in through the door, their chatter filling the room with life and laughter. Each one had something unique to say, show, or boast about. Soon enough, a bit of life started to pour back into me, too.

Julie, my co-teacher, sauntered into the room a while later, juggling her coffee and scrolling on her phone.

“Good morning.” I smiled, feeling only a bit dejected at her usual lack of response.

I took a breath, refocusing my attention back to the kids sitting at the small table around me. The tiny chairs weren’t the most comfortable for an adult, but considering I felt about two inches tall today, it didn’t really matter much.

“Miss ?” a voice spoke, breaking through my thoughts. I looked beside me, finding Emily staring up at me with large doe eyes.

“Yes?” I asked, smiling down at her while she scribbled on a printout of an apple tree.

Coloring in the lines was not a skill we had perfected, and apparently, neither was understanding what color an apple was, but her neon pink tree was adorable all the same.

“Are you sad?” she asked, staring at me intently.

The bluntness of her question caught me off guard, and I opened my mouth to deny it before realizing I couldn’t. Kids were a lot more intuitive than anyone realized, and they didn’t take kindly to being lied to. I couldn’t blame them. I was like them in that way.

“Why do you think that?” I chose instead, settling on the safer response.

“Well,” she started, looking at me intently while trying to figure out the logic behind her very accurate assessment. “Your face isn’t smiling like normal and—” She squinted, taking in every detail of my appearance. “—and you’re not wearing your colors.”

I bit my lip to fight a giggle that threatened to spill out. Her observation was both sweet and painfully accurate. My coworkers might not see the appeal of my usual wardrobe, but it was clear that at least one student appreciated it.

I smiled down at her, nodding my head in confirmation.

“You’re absolutely right,” I said gently. “I do look a little different today.”

I scrunched my nose to show her I was right there with her, missing my normal clothes just as much as she did.

“But I’ll tell you what—I promise that tomorrow I’ll wear the most colorful outfit you can imagine. Deal?”

Her face lit up, the concern melting away into a wide grin. “Good. Your colors make me happy.”

That simple statement hit me square in the chest. My coworkers might think I was odd, Dave might not want me, and my current living situation was temporary at best, but here, in this tiny little classroom, my colors—and maybe even I—mattered to someone.