Page 18 of Working for the Teacher

He nods and disappears back into the classroom, and I stand there in the hallway for a second, staring at Ryder. The bad boy from high school, the one who ended up in juvie and came out the other side as somebody the whole town still watches sideways. And here he is, giving a struggling teenager exactly the kind of honesty that kid needed to hear, using his own worst mistake as the bridge to get there.

It rearranges something in my chest, seeing him like this.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. I think so.” I press a hand to my sternum, willing my heart to slow down. “I need some air. Do you mind if I…”

“I'll walk with you.”

We end up outside near the side entrance, the one that leads out to the athletic fields, the sun cutting sharp angles across the grass. I lean against the brick and finally let myself breathe.

“Thank you,” I say. “I've been trying to reach that kid for weeks and getting nowhere, and you did it in about ninety seconds.”

He leans against the wall beside me, close but not touching, and for a second neither of us says anything.

“I really appreciate it,” I say again, because I don't quite know how to segue into the conversation I actually need to have. “But I also need to say something about last night.”

He goes still, watching me carefully.

“What happened,” I continue, forcing myself to keep going even though every instinct is telling me to change the subject, “cannot happen again. I just got out of an engagement. Lost my job in New York after some budget cuts. I moved back to this town because my entire life fell apart, and I am nowhere close to okay yet. Getting involved with anyone right now would be an incredibly bad decision on top of an already bad year. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

I blink. “Okay?”

“You don't owe me an explanation, Charlotte. We don't have to label anything. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I can fix your bathroom. Or I can be something else, if you want that. Your call, not mine. I'm not gonna push you into something you're not ready for.”

“That's…” I don't have a ready response for that, mostly because I expected pushback.

“But I'll tell you this,” he adds, and something harder edges into his voice. “If anyone ever talks to you like that again, I'm stepping in. Every time. Nobody gets to treat you like that while I'm around to do something about it.”

“Thank you,” I say again.

“You should get back inside.”

“Right.” I push off the wall, and he doesn't move to stop me.

I walk back toward my classroom feeling more unsettled than when I left it.

The rest of the school day passes in a blur, and by the time the final bell rings I'm exhausted.

I gather my things to head home, and that's when I notice it. A folded piece of paper tucked under a notebook in my bag. I unfold it slowly, already suspecting who it's from before I even see the handwriting.

Take your time, Charlotte. I meant what I said. You don’t owe me anything, and I’m not going anywhere. If you ever decide you want something more, I’ll be here. Until then, let me fix your bathroom and try to behave myself. No promises on that last part. - Ryder

Heat spiders all the way down my neck, and I glance around the empty classroom like someone might have seen it even though I'm completely alone.

I read it again. I spent the better part of my engagement wondering why Daniel felt so far away even when he was sitting right beside me. And somehow, after only a day with Ryder Kane, I feel closer to him than I have to anyone in a very long time.

There's a version of tonight where I'm sensible. Where I go to bed alone with a clear conscience and a healed heart in progress.

Then I think about the sound he made when he devoured me. I fold the note back up and tuck it away in my bag.

6

RYDER

Coach Reyes finds me by the equipment shed as I’m about to leave. The rest of the crew is already packing up. He waits until they’re out of earshot before he starts in.