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She knows. Or at least, she suspects.

I get into my car, pull out my phone, and type a message to Megan.

Me: We need to talk. Tonight.

Her reply comes within seconds.

Megan: Is everything okay? What happened?

Me: I’ll call you after Kayla goes to bed.

I drop the phone onto the passenger seat and grip the steering wheel. Keeping this a secret was supposed to protect Megan's career and shield Kayla from scrutiny. But I'm done hiding.

Chapter Thirteen

MEGAN

I'm standing at the copy machine in the teacher's lounge when Jennifer Marsh glides in. She teaches third grade—polished, relentlessly cheerful, and equipped with the kind of honey-coated smile that makes you wonder what she's already said about you in the main office. "Morning, Megan!" she chirps, heading straight for the coffee pot.

"Morning." I keep my eyes on the tray, watching double-sided reading worksheets slide into a neat stack.

My hands are steady. My stomach is in knots.

Brock's message from last night is still fresh in my mind. We need to talk. Tonight. When he called after putting Kayla to bed, his voice was tight with a frustration he refused to explain over the phone.

"Big plans for the weekend?" Jennifer asks, stirring sugar into her coffee. "Or are you spending another Friday night grading papers?"

"Probably grading papers."

"Megan, honey, you need to get out more. You're twenty-seven. You should be enjoying yourself."

"I enjoy myself just fine, Jennifer."

She laughs. "Of course you do. I just think you're missing out on so much. Speaking of which, have you seen Brock Rhodes lately?"

My fingers stop moving against the stack of worksheets.

"He was here dropping off supplies."

"I know. We talked for a while." She leans against the counter, her smile widening. "He's quite a catch, isn't he? I've been trying to get him alone for weeks, but that man always seems to have somewhere else to be."

"Well, maybe he's just busy, Jennifer. He does have a daughter and a demanding job."

Her eyebrows lift. "Well, aren't you encouraging?"

I straighten the papers against the counter. "He's single, Jennifer. You don't need my permission."

"No, I suppose I don't." She takes a sip of coffee. "Although I've noticed he spends an awful lot of time around your classroom."

"His daughter is in my class."

"I know that, sweetie." She lowers her voice. "But people notice things. The donations, the visits, the way he looks at you. I would hate for anyone to get the wrong idea."

My stomach tightens. "There's nothing inappropriate happening at school."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about." She gives me a bright smile. "You know the district expects teachers to disclose relationships with parents and put safeguards in place. I just think it's better to be careful than sorry."

She heads toward the door, then stops.