Aiken
Coming out of the registrar’s office, I pulled my cap low on my forehead, needing a few minutes to digest what I’d learned. My brain felt like one of those pinball machines—a million thoughts zigzagging through my mess of a head.
My mom hadn’t finished school. She’d also been dismissed for disturbing the peace more than once, until finally they refused to reinstate her as a student.
All it took were a few flashes of my farm-boy baby blues, and the woman behind the desk spilled my mom’s file in front of me. Arrested outside an African-American studies program, removed from a sit-in during a football game, caught harassing people at a Greek Life event. My momma had been a wild one—certainly not the church-going, God-loving woman my dad made her out to be.
I wondered if he knew she was a bona fide badass with the reputation to back it up. I couldn’t seem to reconcile what I’d learned with the little I remembered and from what my dad told me.
By the time I walked across the quad to the Frable building, I narrowly managed to shove it all out of mind. My woman was waiting for me on the other side of the door, and damn, if that didn’t feel fucking great. I hadn’t expected to get sidetracked from my quest for my mom when I’d moved here, but I wasn’t going to argue with fate.
I’d bought that stupid yellow house for a reason, one I firmly believed was Claire. I was meant to fall for the beautiful professor and make her happy again.
I didn’t care if that made me a romantic fool or not.
Inside the dark building, I pulled off my hat and fixed my hair, glancing down at my cargo shorts and polo shirt. My running shoes carried me up the stairs to the third floor, to the left, and then to the last door on the right—Dr. Claire Richardswas firmly affixed on the closed door.
As soon as I knocked, the door opened, and a blond-haired, blue-eyed young girl met my gaze.
“Sorry, excuse me. I was asking Dr. Richards a quick question.” She darted to my left and then stopped, her eyes quickly looking me up and down once, then twice.
Next, she cocked her hip and stuck her minimal cleavage in my face.
“Hi,” she added breathlessly.
Oh boy, this wasn’t faring well for Claire’s arguments about me being too young for her.
“No problem, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said, racking my brain. Christ, she looked familiar. Maybe I’d seen her at Juicey’s. I told myself it was the stress of my morning. I hadn’t met many people here, and I would’ve remembered this girl. I wasn’t attracted to her, just shocked that she reminded me of someone. I didn’t know who exactly, but someone. I didn’t want to give off the I’m-interested vibe, so I schooled my features and made sure not to stare.
“I’m Abigail, but everyone calls me Abbie.”
“Aiken Fordham.” I held out my hand, keeping our interaction businesslike. “I’m here to take Richards over there to lunch.” I imagined Claire rolling her eyes and clenching her fists at my casual statement.
“Professor Richards, you mean?” The young chick eyed me with newfound curiosity, like a cat who just discovered an open can of tuna.
“Thanks, Abbie,” Claire called out, dismissing her.
Thank fuck. My head volleyballed between the two. I’d heard ofAbbie with an ie…maybe I’d conjured the whole she’s-familiar thing.
“Hi.” I turned my full attention to Claire, putting all errant thoughts out of my mind.
“Hi, welcome to my office. The place where everyone knows my name.”
She stood behind her desk, casual in skinny jeans and a sleeveless buttoned blouse of some sort—I didn’t know the right name. Papers were stacked everywhere, the shelves were lined with books, and an empty coffee mug sat on the desk. The place fit her like a well-worn boot.
“So, that was Abbie?”
“Oh, yes, Abbie with five million questions. Pushing her way into classes she has no business being in, showing up early, and staying late. Now she wants to work on a research project that studies women who were raised by single dads. She’s pushing me to recommend her, and Mary keeps sending her my way. I don’t know why. Probably some fixation that…that…I don’t even know how to put this…that this Abbie is going to fix me. And now you just handed the dog a bone.” She let out a long breath. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“I was worried you were going to pass out. You didn’t even stop to breathe during that monologue.”
“Come on, feed me.”
“As you wish.”
“Don’t try those lines here, farm boy.”
I waited for her to exit the room, my hand on her lower back, then pulling the door closed.
