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Chapter1
Damon
No wonder I had to hire a private investigator to find her. The woman who randomly texted me to tell me she’s having my baby lives in bumfuck nowhere.
I press on the gas after the hundredth four-way stop intersection, pull into the parking lot of Morning Roots Middle School, and park along the curb by the front door. I climb out of my Mercedes G Class and walk toward the doors, pocketing my keys. Damn, I think it’s even colder out here than in the city. I pull my jacket tighter around me until I reach the large entrance to the school.
I tug on the first door.
Locked.
I go to the other door.
Locked.
What the hell?
I glance over my shoulder at the parking lot full of cars. It’s Wednesday. I move to the final door and reach for the handle.
“Can I help you, sir?” a woman’s voice asks.
I scan the area around me. No one is here.
“The speaker, sir.” The woman’s voice is curt. “To your right.”
I look over, and sure enough, there’s a silver box with a sign that says, “Press here to enter.”
“I’m here to see someone,” I say into the microphone.
“And who would that someone be?” Her clear annoyance only irritates me.
Sorry I don’t know the rules of the speaker. When I was young, you just walked into the school. Of course, it was a private academy. I never attended a public school. And times have changed.
“Adeline Morgan.” There’s a long pause, so after a minute or so, I press the button. “Hello?”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” she snipes.
My head rears back from the speaker. “Well then,” I mutter to myself.
“I can hear you,” she says.
“Not making any new friends today, Siska,” I grumble, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jacket. Does this lady remember it’s February in Illinois? Probably the coldest month of the year?
I should be on vacation right now. The one I always take when football season is over. I should be celebrating winning the championship game with my team. I should be on a sandy beach with the sun beating down, a woman on each side of me.
Where I should not be is in the middle of nowhere with two inches of snow on the ground and whipping wind that chills every bone in my body, which is still healing from a rough season. I should not be so nervous about this impending conversation that it feels as if my breakfast is going to make a reappearance.
The buzzer goes off, though the woman’s voice doesn’t come through the speaker at all, so I rush to pull open the door. I enter a small foyer and am presented with another set of doors. Once I’m through there, I’m standing in front of the woman behind the voice—based on the sour expression on her face. A man behind her wears a big security badge, but his smile says he’s a Grizzlies fan.
“You’re lucky I have fast reflexes,” I say.
“Actually, you’re lucky you do.” She doesn’t offer even a tight smile.
Not wanting to deal with any more bullshit from this lady, I get right to the point. “Is Adeline Morgan around?”
“She’s teaching. Did you miss the sign outside?”
If this lady’s attitude was directed at anyone else, I’d find this funny, but I’ve had maybe an hour’s sleep over the last two nights. I won the championship and couldn’t even celebrate with my team because my mind kept coming back to that text I received right after our win.
