I pull out my phone to text her. I’ll keep the coffee epiphany to myself, instead asking her if she’s doing okay. Maybe I can rush back to Starbucks and get her something.
But why, Steven? You won’t remember what she likes.
I fiddle with my phone before giving up on the idea completely. I’ll just go home and help with dinner. Start small.
A tap on my window startles me as a tall student is bent at the waist, waving at me. I crack my window, now painfully aware of how weird I must look sitting in this parking lot.Blame the amnesia, Steven.
I crack the window an inch. “Can I help you?”
“Dr. Jones, hey! How are you?” The kid grins from ear to ear as he tucks his hair behind his ears. “It’s Travis Young!”
Something clicks in his brain when I don’t respond, because he takes a few steps back, and his posture shifts, softer and timid.
“Right, your head. Mrs. Jones told me about your accident.” I roll my window down at this. “You look good, though.”
“How do I know you exactly?”
“I used to be a student.” He points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the school, then he laughs at my arched brow. “It’s nothing like that. I’m a student teacher now.”
This still doesn’t help me understand how he and I know each other. Was I at the school often? Do I volunteer? He must see the slew of questions bouncing around in my head because he says, “Do you want to go inside?”
“No, no. I don’t want to impose.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Jones would like to see you.” His smile is so innocent, so blissfully unaware of boundaries.
“Is that something I do? Come here often?” My cheeks flush with embarrassment in not knowing something so simple.
“You used to,” he says. “You helped with summer camps and did our fall assessments. You even helped me when I broke my nose once. You were awesome.” He grins proudly, his black hair falling into his eyes. Then his smile falters. “But…since Josie, you haven’t been around.”
The words are a mallet to my sternum, the force of them so sharp it steals my breath.Haven’t been around.Something tells me that’s not just here at the school either.
I swallow hard, my gaze drifting back to the building. That’s when I see Emma, seated beside a man I don’t recognize. The sight twists a new feeling in my chest—jealousy, immature and unbridled, sparking to life. I’m out of my car before I can talk myself down.
“Awesome,” Travis says, following close on my heels as we head to the doors.
He tells me about the new vending machines and the updates to the gym over the summer, but his words blur and fade with the morning sun once we step through the glass doors. I turn right, already orienting myself toward where the big window should be. The door is cracked open, aTeachers’ Loungesign hanging crookedly off to the side. I pause for half a second,just long enough to consider turning back, when Travis barrels in ahead me.
“What’s up, party people!” he announces.
Judging by the looks on their faces, his arrival is not nearly as welcome as that kind of entrance suggests.
“Look who I found,” he adds, gesturing toward me like I’m the prize behind door number three.
Emma’s eyes widen, either pleasantly surprised or irritated—I can’t tell. She sits up from the table, abandoning the guy with arm tattoos she was sitting next to. The pang of jealousy I was feeling fizzles when he smiles at me. It’s an easy, friendly smile. One you give someone who is of no threat to you. Not from someone who might be interested in my wife.
“Steven, what’s going on?” Emma’s hand lands on my arm, running her fingers along the ridge of my tricep. Goosebumps erupt, even beneath my sweatshirt.
“Are you alright?” she asks, and I realize I haven’t answered. I’m just staring at her.
Her green eyes shimmer, emerald threaded with gold, jewels in every sense of the word.
“Steven.” This time, she snaps her fingers lightly in front of me.
“Yeah?”
She arches a brow, a smirk tugging at her mouth as she realizes this isn’t an emergency. “What are you doing?”
“I went on a drive,” I say. “Ended up here.”
