One sweet, tender brush. One more.
When he raised his head, he let himself kiss away a few of those gut-churning tears before walking off. She didn’t protest or reach out for him. Instead, she simply watched him go, her hands balled into shaking fists.
At the door, he stopped and turned around. Hesitated.
Then he said it anyway.
“Rose…” He tried to smile. Failed. “Please let someone love you. Even if it’s not me.”
Then he left for good.
Eighteen
“Ms. Owens.Precisely the woman I’ve been trying to locate.” Keisha poked her head out of her open classroom door as Rose passed by. “Come see me in my room after school.”
Rose attempted a cool, disinterested lift of one brow. “Do I have detention?”
Her department chair didn’t appear impressed, probably because cool, disinterested brow lifts were easier to pull off when one’s eyes weren’t red and swollen as fuck. But dammit, it was Rose’s planning period, and the school day was almost over. She could cry in the faculty restroom if she wanted to.
However, she was composing a sternly worded online review for Annette’s favorite eye cream, because its de-puffing guarantee had proven laughable.
Or it would have proven laughable, if Rose could actually laugh anymore.
Keisha shook her head. “Just come here after the final bell.”
After a nod of acknowledgment, Rose fled to the safety of the social studies department office, currently empty of all other teachers. Thank Christ.
Before yesterday, she would have been working quietly in the back of her own classroom—with Martin’s permission, of course—to get all her end-of-year papers in order. But not now. Even the passing, mumbled greetings they’d exchanged as he entered and left her room gutted her. An entire period spent in his presence, watching him teach and move and breathe andexist, would likely leave her catatonic.
Two more weeks of school remained on the calendar. She had no time for complete emotional breakdowns. Incomplete ones, she’d discovered last night, were hard enough.
So instead of getting necessary tasks done in her classroom, she was staring into space and trying her best not to cry again. Not productive, but it did pass the time.
When the final bell rang, she rushed to Keisha’s room, unwilling to encounter Martin in the hall as he left Rose’s own classroom. Dodging students as they streamed toward the exits, she plopped down in a random vacated chair and waited for her department chair’s attention.
Once all the kids had gone, Keisha closed the door behind her.
Uh-oh. Never a sign of good tidings.
After a quick stop at her desk, she sat in the seat next to Rose’s, handed over a tissue box, and got to the point with her typical directness.
“I told you I wouldn’t interfere in your personal life again, and I won’t. It’s not my business.” She peered at Rose over the top of her glasses, her eyes slightly crossed. “But there are people at Marysburg High who care about you, and you need to know that. I’m here if you want to talk, Rose. Always.”
Dammit. No wonder Rose’s eyelids were completely unable to de-puff.
She reached for the tissue box. “Th-thank you.”
“I’m not the only one concerned. Tess took me aside this morning to find out if you were okay.” Keisha heaved an exasperated sigh. “And this afternoon, Candy Albright threatened to put a hit on whoever had made you look that way, then another on you for making her worry.”
“That’s sweet. Kind of.” Rose frowned. “Also concerning.”
Keisha waved a dismissive arm. “Don’t worry. Candy’s too busy with her annual Wuthering Heights isNota Romance Initiative to murder anyone right now.”
That was…sort of comforting.
“Not even you or Martin,” Keisha added. “Despite your murder-convenient location just down the hall.”
Oh, God. Who else knew about Rose’s relationship with Martin?
