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I shrug. There’s no point explaining all of it. “I always wanted to teach too.”
“After you were a successful writer. Or you had your own studio.”
I wonder if she’s trying to hurt me. I wonder if I could blame her after everything. It was a long time ago, and what I did, fine, was bad, but it doesn’t make me the devil. It wasn’t goddamn evil. Was it? Is that just something I’m telling myself?
“That’s life, I guess,” I go on. “What about you? Still in the accountancy game?”
“I’ve got my own business. I’m doing well, thank you.”
“I’m glad.”
“Are you going to ask about Jane?”
I wince, which is probably the response Vanessa wanted. “How is she? It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has, but she’s a sensitive person. She’s never really gotten over it if you want the truth. Are you teaching my daughter, then? About my height, brunette. Her name’s Ellie.”
I guess she doesn’t want to talk about it from the way Vanessa breezes past the Jane stuff. She just wanted to let me know her sister has never recovered. Is that fair? Is that my fault?
My stomach tightens when I hear Ellie’s name.
“I am, yeah,” I say. “I had her this morning.”
I had her, sure, but not in the way I wanted. I didn’t tear off her modest skirt to feast on her beautifully thick, curvy body. I didn’t softly bite her inner thigh, then move higher until I could taste her, own her. I didn’t drive my hard dick deep into her.
Even now, I can’t stop when I’m talking to her mom. That either makes me a psychopath or means Ellie is as special as I think she is—as I know she is.
“It’s probably best if we pretend we don’t know each other,” Vanessa says after a pause. “We probably shouldn’t be talking. It means I won’t have to lie if she asks why we were speaking, okay? Can you do that, Max? Can you sort of just leave me the fuck alone?”
I step back, stunned at the viciousness in her tone. She’s talking to me like I’m unforgivable.
“Sure, Vee,” I say, turning away.
“My name is…”
But then I’m out of earshot. Or maybe it’s just the rushing in my ears. I can’t think about anything except the past. I was emotionally dead once, a husk, barely even a man. Honestly, I never knew I could feel deeply until earlier today when I saw Ellie for the first time. She broke me open, just by being there, by being her.
CHAPTER
THREE
Ellie
“You didn’t have to pick me up,” I say, sitting in the passenger seat as Mom drives, the ocean glistening all around us, a wonderful summer’s day. It almost reminds me of the West Coast. “But thank you.”
Mom was a goth when she was younger. She’s got the same energy now with her all-black work clothes, and her demeanor is pretty dark today too. Her tone seems distracted. “I wanted to see how it went. I’m proud of you.”
“It went really well, thanks. It was a good day. I’m actually excited to go to work later too. Waiting tables feels good if I know I’m contributing to my education. Do you get what I mean?”
Mom nods, barely listening. I was wondering if she was annoyed and distant because of money. I think that’s my holdup, memories of the early years after Dad passed away and Mom struggling. She owns her own business now, a large accountancy firm. She’s doing well, but I’m still determined to help.
“Did you get on well with your teachers?” Mom asks a moment later.
“Oh, sure. It was great. I had two classes today. There was this professor. Max Stellar. He’s…”
“What?” Mom says, her voice tight.
“I don’t know. Interesting, I guess.” Her tone has put me off. “He was good at his job. Very charismatic, but not in a showoff way.”
“And you liked him?” Mom says.
“Well, yeah, isn’t that a good thing?”
“No, Ellie,” she replies. “I mean, did you like him, like him?”
“You sound like a teenager.”
“Very well, madam,” she says, with a hint of her usual sarcastic self. “By any chance, did you feel any stirring of attraction to this man?”
“Mom, he’s my professor.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Why are you even asking that?” I say, closing my legs together again.
I’ve been doing that all day, ever since I first saw him. It’s like my body is trying to betray me every chance it gets. I can’t focus on anything except for him. I can’t think about anything except for Max Stellar, with the flecks of silver in his dark hair and his ink blazing through his shirt.
“Your voice changed,” Mom says, “when you spoke about him.”
I swallow, staring stubbornly out the window. It’s better than the view from our house was a few times before we moved. The mobs of people and once, there was even a sign. Somebody went to the effort to write it all down like it deserved the ink.
