“I’m where I need to be,” I reply. “Quinn requires one-on-one attention during this transition.”
“Transitions are temporary by definition, Leif. What comes next for you? You’ve kept yourself so…” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Contained.”
The assessment strikes too close to home. My life since fleeing Westbrook has been precisely that. Contained. Limited.Small.
“I haven’t given it much thought,” I lie.
“You should.” Carson steps closer, as if sharing a confidence. “Pinecrest Academy values involvement, visibility, and growth. We’re always on the lookout for educators who can contribute to our community beyond the classroom.”
My mouth goes dry as I recognize the recruitment pitch embedded in his words. Carson isn’t simply threatening my current position. He’s attempting to draw me back into his orbit, to establish control by offering a path that leads right back to him.
“The Wright Pack hired me for Quinn,” I counter, taking a half-step backward to reclaim space between us. “The job is more than fulfilling.”
“For now,” Carson agrees with an easy shrug. “But children grow. Needs change. The question becomes whether you’re growing alongside them or remaining static.”
The criticism hits its mark. Am I growing? No, I’ve been hiding.
“Well, I shouldn’t keep you. I have a staff meeting in ten minutes.” He extends his hand. “It’s good to reconnect, Leif. We should catch up properly sometime.”
As I reflexively accept his handshake, the contact sends revulsion through me that I struggle to mask.
His grip lingers a beat too long, his fingertips skimming my pulse before he releases me. “Think about what I said. Your potential has always been exceptional. It would be a shame to see it limited to babysitting duties, wouldn’t it?”
Without waiting for my response, he turns and walks back up the steps, pausing at the top to greet a group of teachers entering the building. They welcome him with open arms, already won over by his charm and position. The doors close behind them, leaving me alone on the sidewalk, the morning sunshine cold on my skin.
I force myself to move, each step requiring conscious effort as I cross the parking lot to my waiting car.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out on autopilot to find a text message.
Emily
Are we still on for tomorrow?
My stomach twists into knots. If I continue seeing Emily, I risk Quinn’s accommodations, her stability, and her hard-won progress. If I pull away from Emily, I surrender to Carson’s control, proving that his tactics still work, and he can still dictate the boundaries of my life.
The decision settles in my chest like a stone. I can’t afford to want this. Not Emily, not the woodworking lessons, not the possibility of building something permanent.
Not when the cost might be Quinn’s security.
Chapter Fourteen
Emily
“If I didn’t know better,” Jared says from the doorway, “I’d think you were cooking for the whole neighborhood.”
I don’t look up from the cutting board. “Don’t you have boats to micromanage?”
He laughs and steps closer, taking in the stove, the bread cooling on the counter, and the vegetables waiting to be plated. “Is someone a little sensitive today?”
My eyes dart to the oven, where brownies are already baking, and I haven’t even asked if Leif will want to stay for lunch today. But the finish won’t take long, and there will be hours before the second coat can go on, so food and conversation would naturally fill the gap.
I huff out a breath. “I do realize it’s too much. Some is for dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, I won’t tease.” Jared draws me around. “I love seeing you taking care of others, so long as it’s whatyouwant to do and not because you think Leif expects it.”
“Of course, he doesn’t expect it. But he’s been staying at the hotel without a kitchen for months, and…” I pull away to check the soup. “I thought he’d appreciate a homemade meal.”
“Sure, he will.” Jared follows me to the stove, peering over my shoulder as I stir. “But that’s not the point.”