Leif stands behind my chair, his breath warm on the top of my head as he reads over my shoulder. Each sentence of theletter is constructed to minimize liability while acknowledging the seriousness of the situation.
“Administrative leave pending investigation,” I read aloud, highlighting the key phrase with my cursor. “Effective immediately.”
“That’s standard procedure,” Emily says with skepticism. “Doesn’t mean they’ll actually do anything.”
I scroll down to the second paragraph. “Emergency board meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning to review the allegations and evidence.” My finger taps the screen at the next line. “And they’re bringing in an independent investigator from the state education office.”
Jared’s hand settles on Leif’s shoulder. “That’s more than they did last time.”
“Because they can’t bury it this time,” I say, closing the email and opening another from the parent association president. “The audio is already public. Every parent with a child at Pinecrest has heard Carson speak by now, threatening a student’s accommodations to manipulate a staff member.”
More emails arrive as the district’s damage control machine spins into high gear. A press statement attempts to distance the board from what they can no longer deny. The principal’s separate message to faculty stresses that student welfare remains the top priority.
The same system that once protected Carson now moves to distance itself from him. The speed with which they move now, after months of inaction, tells its own story about the power of public scrutiny.
“Will it be enough?” Leif asks as I lower my phone. “Will this actually stop him?”
I consider the question. “His power was never in his position. It was in the story he controlled, the one where he was the dedicated administrator, and you were the unstable Omega.That story is gone now. No matter what the investigation concludes, he can’t rewrite the narrative. You took it from him forever.”
Leif rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion claiming him as the adrenaline of the day ebbs away. “It doesn’t feel like a victory.”
“It’s not,” I agree, turning off my phone for the night. “It’s only the beginning. But he can’t touch you anymore, Leif. And that’s worth holding onto.”
Leif nods, exhaustion dragging at him as he sinks deeper into the couch.
Across the room, Emily remains quiet, her attention fixed on him.
But the distance between them remains.
Carson may have lost his hold on Leif, but that doesn’t mean the damage he caused has disappeared.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Emily
The morning light catches on Pinecrest Harbor, turning the water into fragments of silver glass that hurt to stare at too long.
Wednesday’s dawn brought no relief from the endless phone calls that started after Grady’s article was released, so we left Jared with both vehicles in the parking lot at the docks and escaped down the boardwalk.
Beside me, Leif walks with his shoulders squared against the January wind whipping off the water, carrying the scent of salt, fish, and wet wood. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, but he ignores it.
“Sure you’re ready to be out and about again?” I ask as our footsteps echo on the wooden planks of the boardwalk, and with each step, we draw stares.
“I can’t hide forever. I’ve been relying on you too much where Quinn’s concerned.” Leif shoves his hands into his pockets. “And where I’m concerned, too. Sorry I’ve been taking up space in your cottage.”
My lips part, about to tell him he can stay as long as he wants, before I shut my mouth again. Back in October, I would have made the offer without hesitation, but we’re not there anymore.
A newspaper flutters in the hands of a man sitting on a bench, the headline visible even from where we walk: “Pinecrest Academy Administrator on Leave Pending Investigation.” He lowers it as we pass, his eyes lingering on Leif’s cheek where the last yellowish traces of bruising peek through concealer.
My muscles coil with the instinct to step half a pace forward, to put my body between Leif and the stares. My fingers curl at my sides before I relax them as I force myself to stay where I am.
“Morning!” Martha Chen, who runs the bait and tackle shop at the pier’s edge, waves at us from her doorway. Her dark hair whips in the wind as she approaches, her focus on Leif rather than me. “How are you holding up?”
News travels fast in Pinecrest, especially when it involves the private academy where half the town’s children attend.
“Taking it one day at a time,” Leif answers, keeping his head turned to hide most of the bruising. “Thank you for asking.”
Martha studies him with kindness instead of pity. “My nephew is in Quinn’s class. Says her service dog is so sweet. He’s been begging his mom for a dog of his own.”