Page 99 of The Headmaster’s Rule

The place I want to go is only a block away, and we walk side-by-side in easy silence. I steal glances at him, wondering what he’s thinking, feeling. We haven’t been here long, but already I sense he’s different. Less sure of himself, less in charge.

And it makes my heart weak.

I’m not just in love with the headmaster. I’m in love with the man he doesn’t know how to be outside of his office, his school. I’ve only ever known the version of him who wields power and authority, who holds everything together. The man in tailored suits and polished shoes, who moves through Wetherly like the whole place might crumble down around him if he stops to take a breath.

But here, in the city, he doesn’t seem to know exactly what to do with himself. And God, I love him for that. For the softness underneath the steel. For the man he doesn’t know how to be when no one is watching.

I lead us into the coffee shop, Beanie, inhaling the familiar scent of espresso and cinnamon. Theo hesitates, but I snag us two seats at the bar table in the window, looking out over the street. He slides onto a stool beside me, surrounded by the buzz of conversation and hum of the espresso machine as he watches me look over the menu.

“The pancakes are good,” I tell him when he doesn’t look at his own menu.

“Pancakes it is.”

A waitress appears behind me and I grin, ordering for us, plus two coffees. When I glance back, Theo’s gazing at me with a smile.

“You look like you belong here.”

I lift a shoulder. “I did once. Now, I belong in Wetherly.” I realize too late I’ve said something to give myself away. My hope to stick around in that beautiful little town, that school, with him.

Theo’s eyes roam my face for a long moment, something glowing in their blue depths. Then he leans forward, lifting a hand to my chin, tilting my face to brush his lips over mine. It’s the softest kiss, but it steals the breath from my lungs. When we part, his eyes are dark and intense, full of things I wish he’d say, but our coffee arrives and he sits back, eyes still on me as he lifts the steaming mug to his lips.

“Why did you leave the city?”

“I was burned out.” I shift in my seat, suddenly very aware that I’m talking to my boss. “I loved the kids,” I add quickly. “It was everything else that wore me down.”

Theo sets his coffee on the table, his hand touching mine. “Hey. You’re not talking to Headmaster Wright, okay? You’re talking to me, Theo.”

Everything about that makes me soften. The man he is here, away from home. It took him a moment to adjust to the city, but now, in this little coffee shop, he’s letting his guard fall. He’s just… him.

My heart squeezes, and I force myself to pick up a packet of sugar, tearing it open.

“Well,” I say, exhaling shakily. “I only taught for two years at Brownsville, but… it was a lot. I knew nine-year-olds with more trauma than most adults I know. Some of them didn’t eat unless they were at school, so I’d keep granola bars in my desk drawer, in case.” I stir the sugar into my coffee, chest aching at the memory. “There were never enough resources. Never enough support.”

Theo’s eyes move over my face, warm with compassion, giving me the courage to go on.

“We had lockdown drills every week. Once, I had to step between two fighting students. It was probably a stupid thing to do, but I didn’t think. I just did it.” Guilt tugs at me, and I sigh, cradling my coffee. “I wanted to help. That’s why I went. But by the end of the second year, I couldn’t remember why I started. That scared me more than anything.” I huff an uncomfortable laugh. “I was considering leaving teaching for good.”

Theo’s lips part in shock. “Eleanor,” he whispers, taking my hand. “I had no idea.”

I nod slowly, thinking of the day I found that ad for Wetherly Prep. The hope that burst to life inside me, that maybe I wouldn’t have to give up the thing I loved.

“Then I applied to Wetherly, and Mr. Fells—Danny—gave me the job.”

Theo shakes his head gravely. “I’m so damn grateful he did. Not only for me”—he lifts my hand to press a kiss to the back of it—“but for the school. Safe Harbor. Everything you’re doing for the students.”

I tilt my head, examining him as I think of the way he defended Safe Harbor with that kid in his office yesterday.

“You really believe in this project, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he says, without a moment’s hesitation. “It’s exactly what we need, and I’m sorry it took me so long to come around.”

Pride warms me through. I think back to the man I met, the man who was so hesitant to every suggestion, every positive step I tried to take.

“I know I can be a lot,” I murmur, looking down at our joined hands. “With all my ideas and plans. But when I look at the resources we have at Wetherly… it seems criminal not to use them for something like this.”

His eyes are penetrating as they move across my face. “You’re not,” he says hoarsely.

“Not what?”