Page 4 of Fall Over You

Miss Kristen is getting the rest of the class loaded up on the school bus for snacktime and the ride back to the preschool in Paint. She speedwalks my way with her phone pressed to her ear. “Can Ellie wait with you? Her dad is already on his way here and he didn’t answer when I just tried to redirect him. I need to get the class back to school for dismissal.”

This is . . . a predicament. I’m fine hanging out with this little cutie, but isn’t it kind of weird? Isn’t there some rule about leaving no child behind?

“Yeah, once you start out Creek Road, cell signal usually drops. You can’t wait another few minutes?”

She lowers her voice. “Ellie’s dad is hot but he’s kind of intense. I don’t want him to be mad at me. And then the lady who owns the preschool is already on me all the time for being late.”

Kristen was a couple years below me in school, surely not long out of college now. I’m not shocked she’s got the hots for her students’ parents, nor that she’s struggling to hold together a proper adult life. Can’t say I was much better a few years ago. “I ain’t scared of nobody’s daddy.”

“So you can wait with her?” she asks, voice full of hope.

This part is not my problem, but if it means Miss Kristen will bring her class back again sometime and forget the ankle twist mishap, I need to be as flexible as possible. “Sure. I can handle him.”

“Thank youuuu,” Kristen says, sandwiching my hand between her two. “I promise, any future programs you have, we’ll be out here again.”

Mission accomplished. Public relations crisis averted.

“No problem, hun. Get those kids back to town. Me and Miss Ellie will be fine.”

Ellie sits at my side, an ice pack on her ankle and T-Bone at her feet while she sings him some song.

I can handle this. I love kids.

Just as the rest of her class pulls away in the school bus, a pickup truck comes hauling ass into my drive.

“Daddy!” Ellie jumps up, seemingly forgetting her ankle injury. She’s unaffected as she runs toward the truck.

“Ellie, sweetie⁠—”

My words turn to sticky syrup in my throat as her daddy parks and turns off his truck. My stomach feels like I’ve been out for a long night at the bar when his boots hit the gravel.

Long legs, coveralls, Carhartt jacket, backwards hat, and a blonde scruff beard finished in a scowl.

I am double fucked with a cherry on top.

THREE

TYLER

How in the hell did I think sending my darling daughter to Becca Martin’s farm was a good idea? Of course she got hurt. If we’re lucky, it’s just physically hurt and not emotionally ruined along with it.

I pass the school bus on my way in. Did Miss Kristen seriously leave my child with possibly the worst influence in this town? I pull into the drive to find all my fears confirmed. Ellie sits on the porch, as does the wildest head of blonde hair I’ve ever known.

I barely remember to turn off the truck before my feet hit the dirt, slamming the door behind me as I stomp their way. Becca Martin should probably be in jail for something or another. Even if Becca has evaded arrest, it’s probably because she’d sweet talked the cop, and if all else failed, put her filthy mouth to use to get out of it.

I ignore the way my insides squeeze and jealousy flashes through me at that thought. Any positive feelings about Becca are ancient history, lost to a less complicated time.

What matters is the fact that Ellie’s running my way, so her ankle can’t be that bad off. Ellie leaps off the porch with a “Daddy!” While I’m relieved she’s not seriously hurt, I am concerned that I was called away from work for this. My relief is a sneeze in a hurricane compared to the rage I feel.

Ellie got hurt on Becca’s watch.

When I’m about twenty yards out from them, a set of paws jab into my stomach, followed by a ferocious growl.

Oh, sweet Jesus, I’m being attacked by a wolf.

“T-Bone, down!” Becca calls. “Sorry. She’s actually friendly.”

To demonstrate her docile nature, the wolf pants and circles me to stand by my hand, nuzzling me to beg for pets.