Shit.
My brother’s voice was low andpissed,and there was only one she who he was referring to. Samantha.
“What do you mean?” I squeezed my grip on the wheel as my mouth dried up from the guilt. I knew she was back, and I was the reason, but Fritz could never know that. Ever. I’d rather lose a limb.
“She followed me on Insta and posted a picture not too far from your school.” He exhaled so hard it caused a static sound in the phone.
No. Please, no.I swallowed, the gesture causing a ball of pain, and blew out a breath. “Has she…tried talking to you?”
“Nope.”
“Are you going to…reach out to her?” I froze as I waited for his answer. If he did, it would throw off her plan and could send her into a different direction. One where Fritz got hurt, again.
“What would I have to say? I’m not saying shit to her. She walked out of my life six months ago without a fucking word. God, I do not need this shit right now.” He groaned, and my heart broke into two for him. “This case is kicking my ass, and I can’t afford distractions. Did she follow me to mess with me, or does she want to talk?”
She wants money.
“Probably to mess with you,” I said, keeping my voice even despite the absolute terror and turmoil going on in my mind. My overconfident, overly flirty brother was broken from her. She had damaged his sunny outlook, and it got me pissed all over again. “Look, I’m volunteering at the literacy center for a few hours. Want to grab dinner after? We can talk crap about her or avoid it. I can fill you in on this dumb competition at work. You should see my outfit today, Fritz. I was amazing.”
He let out a forced chuckle. “Yes to dinner. Don’t wanna go out though. Just come here when you’re done. I’ll order Chinese.”
“You’re my favorite brother,” I said, using our typical joke but hoping he knew the weight of the words.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re mine too. Bye, Gil.”
He ended the call, and I used the remainder of the drive to figure out how I could get Samantha to go away, avoid Fritz getting hurt again, and to still win this competition at work. My poor brain was working overtime, and when I pulled into the parking lot of the literacy center, I was met with a sense of relief. This would be the perfect two-hour distraction, and that’s exactly what I needed.
I walked into the bricked building, signed the visitor form and put on a name tag, and practically skipped toward the tutoring room where students who struggled with reading were grouped by skill. There were six- to twelve-year-olds in this room, where the other room focused on high school-aged students. Working here the past two years had been one of the best joys. Our parents always encouraged us to volunteer in areas we were passionate about. They said it was necessary for all humans to give back, but that since we had wealth, it meant we had to do more. So I tutored two days a week for the fall semester each year and always donated money to the center for the holidays. It was always anonymous, and it would remain that way.
“Ms. Carter! Hello! Welcome back.” Paige Martinez, the director of the literacy center, smiled wide at me and handed me a clipboard. “Here is a list of students with their Lexile scores. I’m thrilled you’re joining us again this semester.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I returned the smile and studied the list of kiddos I would work with on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons. “Okay, this looks good.”
“Did you recruit someone else for us?”
“Hm?” I tilted my head and moved my gaze to her face. She focused on another clipboard that had Mountain Elementary in bright-red letters on the top right corner of the page. “Oh, is someone else from my school working here?”
The hairs on the back of my neck tickled, and it was like he had the unique power to make the particles in the room shift around me. With a nervous breath, I spun and found Christopher Callahan standing at the edge of the room, his gaze filled with curiosity.At least it wasn’t hate.
“You must be Mr. Callahan! Welcome! I was just telling Ms. Carter that we are thrilled another teacher from Mountain Elementary is joining us here. She’s been here what, three years now?”
“Yes,” I said, my tone growing stronger as his gaze swept over my face. “It’s absolutely wonderful spending a few hours here.”
He didn’t get a chance to respond before a student I worked with the year before, Leticia Romano, walked into the room and smiled so wide she looked a little crazy. “Ms. Carter!”
“Leticia! Look how big you are!” I bent down when she ran up to me, and I gave her a huge hug. “Wow, you’re so tall. How old are you again? Forty? Fifty?”
“No!” She giggled. “Six. You know this.”
“Of course. It’s so good to see you. Want to get started?” I ignored Paige, and Christopher for that matter, and followed Leticia to one of the round tables so we could work on her phonics. Her parents spoke Spanish at home, and Paige had us read up on one of the most challenging parts of being raised in a bilingual household—that kids often skated by with minimal skills in both languages, instead of making them successful at both. If I could rule the world, I would have all schools dual-language where students left fifth grade being fluent in two languages. It was so cool students could learn two languages at the same time. They were incredible sponges, and it upset me when adults underestimated children’s potential.
“Okay, let’s see what your teacher has you doing today,” I said, grinning as she rushed to get out her materials.
She had her folder and pencil on the table as another student, Marco, joined us. We went through their homework, where they felt they struggled the most, and took our time going over the expectations. When they had some independent time, I used the moment to reapply lip balm because all the talking had made my lips chapped. As I swiped my finger across my bottom lip, I caught Christopher staring at me.
There wasn’t fury or rage or anything in his expression beyond curiosity. My body seemed to shiver with awareness, like it remembered how it felt to have his skin on mine, but I shoved the unwarranted attraction away. The sting of his words from not an hour ago hadn’t left, and I wasn’t in the mood to figure out what his problem was or why he was so complicated and uptight, so I ignored him. He wasn’t worth the little energy I had left. Focusing on the kids and seeing their skills grow was better.
Between questions and working one-on-one, two hours flew by, and I got up from the small chair and stretched my hands over my head. My bones cracked, and another wave of tiredness hit me. Dinner with Fritz would have to be short so I could plan my outfit for the next day and go to bed early. Paige was on the phone when I walked toward the exit, and she waved with a smile. I’d be back the next day with the same group of students, and without even looking to see ifhewas still there, I exited the building into the hot August sun.
