His face twists into a horrified grimace. “Single mothers?”
“People who fuckingcare. People whotry. People who get back up. People who can look beyond what you do when you’re down to who you’re trying to be. People who—”
“Are hard to get?” he supplies.
I glare at him.
And then I take my bison burger to go, and I head home, where Maisey’s truck is still parked at the gatehouse.
Dammit.
I peek in the truck.
No keys.
Can’t get it back to her house.
Not that it matters.
After an hour of trying to force myself to eat the burger while I’m not hungry, I get a text from her.
I told Junie we went on a couple dates and that it’s over. I’ll move my truck when we get back tomorrow. Apologies for it being in your way until then.
“You’re not in my way.” I toss the damn phone across the room, knowing she can’t hear me and wouldn’t listen even if she could.
Not today.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe not.
I give up on dinner, head into my bedroom, and spot the crumpled sheets plus the spare pillow on the floor, since we shared mine last night, and I almost walk away again.
Still smells like Maisey in here.
And I want it toalwayssmell like Maisey in here.
But if I want Maisey, it’s notjustabout Maisey.
Which means I know exactly what I need to do.
I stay scarce on Saturday, and when I get home, Maisey’s truck is gone.
Keep to myself Sunday too.
Monday’s a bitch and a half. None of the kids want to be back in school. All of them are counting the days until winter break. Since Thanksgiving was early this year, they still haveweeks.
I hand out test results, and we start new units in every class. I act like I had a great Thanksgiving break. Interrupt trash talk about who got more candy at the parade. Steer them back on course. Ignore the questions about if I have a stick up my butt.
And get really pissed myself that the winter break is so far away.
Most of the rest of the week is the same.
Me pretending like I’m not a grumpy bastard. The kids hyped up but mostly able to focus. Fellow teachers avoiding me the same way they did when I got here six years ago, before I pulled my head out of my ass.
Even the PTA volunteers flinch when I step into the teachers’ lounge and find a holiday spread laid out for us.
I skip it without being force-fed anything by Libby and spend my time getting looks from my horse out in the school’s stable. I’ve been riding Parsnip instead of driving, to use some of my pent-up energy.
