“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.  There are some things you should know about what happened, about Harper—ˮ

“What about Harper?” I cut him off.  The room began to spin as I held that trashcan like a damn life raft.

“It’s not for me to tell.  I’m sorry.  Call Carol.  Come home.  Let us explain.”

I’d heard enough.  “You’ve had two years to explain.  I’m not coming around so she can clear her damn conscience.  I’m not ready for this shit.  Do not call me again,” I barked, swiftly ending the call.  I squeezed the phone tightly in my fist, holding back the tears that had threatened to overtake me.  How else is one supposed to act when the person they viewed as a mother was on her deathbed?  Not that I should care.  She’s treated me ruthlessly for the past two years.  Ever since Harper’s death…

“Fuck!”  I shouted. 

Then it hit me.  I had a class to get to.  Brushing my hands down my shirt, I realized my dick was still hanging out and hastily zipped my fly before tearing off into the hallway. 

 

The memories have been hitting hard all day since the phone call.  The accident, her screams, the blood.  Oh God, all the blood.  I leap up off the couch, feeling the need to pace, or run, or punch something.  I need a distraction.  Unwinding hasn’t helped one damn bit.

I begin stalking around my living room as another face comes to mind.  Tatum.  Holy hell, I’ve kissed my student.  Kissed is a damn understatement.  Ravished her would be more appropriate.

I’ve spent the past week thinking of nothing but her.  Her light hazel eyes and luscious lips.  The way she quirks one eyebrow while spouting her endearing sarcasm.  Wondering why she ran away from me so fast when it was clear she was feeling what I felt.  Surely she was.  She gripped me to her body like I was a life raft and she was about to drown.

I groan, swiping a hand through my hair.  But she’s my student!  What we did was entirely inappropriate.  This semester is going to be absolute torture.  My last ditch attempt to keep her from leaving was to phone the principal.  I wanted her to come back so I could speak with her after class.  Instead, he said he’d take care of it.  I should have thought through my actions.  He informed me after the final bell today that I would be stuck with her for the next two weeks as my assistant.  I’m not sure who he’s trying to punish more—her or me.

Who speaks to their teacher that way?  Obviously the intriguing woman I shared a meal with is nothing more than an immature brat.

I should get changed, blow off some steam in the gym.  Taking the stairs two at a time, I stumble when my phone rings again.  I’m dangerously close to throwing the damn thing away.

“What?” I snap, pulling it out of my pocket and answering without looking at the caller ID.

“Jacoby, hi.  Everything alright?”  Melissa’s sweet voice sounds in my ear.  I’m not sure if I should be annoyed or pleased, but I feel some of the fight seeping out of me.

“Hi, Mel.  Sorry, yeah I’m fine.  Rough first day of school.”

“Do you need something to take your mind off of it?  I can help, you know.”  Suddenly, the gym idea is off the table.  Something about losing myself in a woman sounds exactly like what I need.

“You know the address.  I’ll be here,” I respond before ending the call.  Turning my phone off, I tuck it above my refrigerator.  I don’t have the capacity for any more draining phone calls this evening.  Besides, Melissa will keep my mind, and body, plenty busy.

Less than twenty minutes later, a knock sounds on my door.  Opening it reveals a tastefully dressed Melissa, sporting tight skinny jeans, black heeled boots, a long sleeved white sweater, and a deep brown chunky knit scarf.  Her bottle blonde hair is piled messily on top of her head.  She’s the type of woman who doesn’t have to dress the part because she knows exactly what she’s getting when she comes over here.

She saunters in like she owns the place, which is amusing since she’s only been here a handful of times.  Usually, I end up at her house or the backseat of my car if we’re out somewhere.  She’s my go-to, no strings attached girl, and it suits us both well.

“What’s the matter, Jack?  You want to talk?” She asks flirtingly, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger.

“You know we don’t ‘talk,’ so don’t try that crap.  I don’t have the energy to deal with clingy relationship type stuff, especially not today.”  Shit, I sound like a dick.  “I’m sorry, Mel.  That was rude.  It’s just been a long day,” I sigh.

She smiles at me, offering her hand I know to be baby soft, which I take.  “Don’t worry about it.  We both know why I’m here and we’re both okay with it.  Bedroom?” She asks, batting her eyelashes at me.

“Lead the way, baby.”

Melissa is lounging in a matching red satin thong and bra set when I roll over from my post-fucking doze.  She looks sexy in my bed, all mussed up hair and smudged makeup.  She’s a very confident and comfortable girl; I like that.  But we’ve had too much history to see each other on any type of relationship level.  She’ll find a nice normal guy to treat her right someday.  That thought eases my guilt a little.

“What time is it?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“It’s just after midnight, sleepyhead,” she replies, scooting down to cuddle into my side.

Fuck, I slept a while.  “I think you should go.  I have class tomorrow.”

“Aw, do I have to?” She pouts.  “Can’t I stay the night?”

“You know I don’t do the sleepover thing.  We aren’t dating.  This is just for fun,” I tell her as I sit up and inconspicuously shake her from me.  I can’t allow myself to get that close to another woman.  I’m too fucked up over my past.  I thought Mel and I were clear on that.

“I know.  Just thought I’d ask, see if you needed the company, that sort of thing.”

I kiss her gently on her head.  “Thanks, but I’m alright.”

We both dress; her in the clothes she came in while I don a pair of sweats, and I walk her to my front door.

“I’ll see you later.”  I give her a chaste kiss on the lips.

Something in her expression makes me uncomfortable, however, she gives me a cheery wave on her way out the door.  “Bye.  Next time,” she says with a smile.

I’m not so sure there will be a next time.  Maybe it’s time to cut her loose before she gets too attached.

CHAPTER FIVE

Tatum

“Mrs. Marsden?”  I shake the quiet old lady on her shoulder as she nods off into her roast beef and mashed potatoes.  “Monica, wake up dear,” I say a little bit louder.  She startles in her wheel chair, knocking her fork to the ground.

“Oh my,” she cries out, distraught.

“I’ll get it, Monica.  Let me get you a new one,” I reply soothingly.  She hasn’t been feeling well lately and the fatigue is really unlike her usual cheery self.  I cross the dining hall to the kitchen to retrieve a clean fork.

The dining hall, kitchen, and common room are all one big area with hallways running down each of three sides where the bedrooms are.  The walls are sterile and white, the floors covered in white tiles.  The dining table seats twelve and tonight it’s all full.  Many of the residents prefer to have meals brought to their rooms, and we try to accommodate their wishes.  Even in old age, some people just aren’t social creatures.  The kitchen area looks like a normal residential kitchen, except slightly larger.  The space is slightly outdated with white appliances, white walls, and gray countertops.  We use the kitchen to bake and make simple snacks, but the meals are prepared in larger kitchen by a chef downstairs.

By the time I get back to the table, Monica’s nodded off again.

“Wake up you old bat!” Lucy berates from across the table.  “Somebody wake her up or I’m gonna hit her with my roll!”  Just as she poises her arm to lob the overcooked bread, Kelsey grabs it from her hand.