Page 23 of Off Limits Daddies
The request crosses a line I'm not comfortable with, but I keep my expression neutral. "That's not really appropriate, Kyle. But I'm always happy to discuss your academic plans during office hours."
His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course. I understand."
The conversation continues for several more minutes, Kyle asking questions about my teaching philosophy, my favorite books, and where I lived before returning to Riverside. His interest seems genuine but intense, and I find myself wishing he would return to wherever he was sitting before halftime.
"I should probably get back to my friends," Kyle finally says, standing. "Thanks for talking with me, Miss Wilson. I really appreciate it."
"Anytime, Kyle. Enjoy the rest of the game."
He walks away and I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The interaction was perfectly polite, but something about it felt off. The way he looked at me and how he positioned himself too close. The personal questions that went beyond normal student-teacher boundaries.
"That kid gives me the creeps," one of the women behind me mutters.
"Kyle Jorgenson? He's always been a little odd. Too intense."
I turn slightly, curious despite myself.
"His parents are loaded," the first woman continues. "They throw money at the school to keep him enrolled. I heard he had problems at his last school."
"What kind of problems?"
"I don't know exactly. But there were rumors."
The second half of the game starts before I can hear more. Blake's team is ahead by two touchdowns, and the energy in the stadium shifts to confident celebration. I watch Blake work the sideline, his passion for the game evident in every movement.
When the final whistle blows, Riverside Academy wins 35-21. The crowd erupts in cheers while Blake's players mob him on the field. He laughs, accepting their enthusiasm with obvious pride, and when he looks up at the bleachers, his eyes find mine immediately.
The smile he gives me is triumphant and intimate, like we're sharing a private victory. My heart does a silly somersault and drops to my stomach.
Get a grip!
People begin filing out of the stadium. I wait for the crowd to thin before making my way down the bleachers. Jack has already disappeared, probably heading home or back to his office. Noah is still in his seat, writing something in his notebook with focused concentration.
The parking lot is chaos. Parents loading tired children into cars. Students laughing and making plans. Teachers congratulating Blake on the win.
I navigate through the crowd toward my car, parked in the far corner under a flickering light. The temperature has dropped significantly, and I pull my jacket tighter as I walk.
My car sits alone in this section of the lot, most people having parked closer to the entrance. I dig my keys from my purse, already thinking about the hot bath I'll take when I get back to my hotel room.
Something white catches my eye and I step closer. A piece of paper flutters slightly in the breeze, trapped beneath my windshield wiper.
Probably some kind of advertisement. I pull it free and am about to throw it into my purse when I change my mind and open it.
It's a note of some kind, typed in large, dark font. My breath catches and I feel a little weak in the knees when I read the words.
I know what you're hiding.
10
BLAKE
I pull my truck into the parking lot of Mia's new apartment complex, the bed loaded with boxes I helped her pick up from storage. She's already here, her car parked near the entrance to building C. When I climb out, she waves from the second-floor landing, her dark hair catching the afternoon sunlight.
"Thank you so much for doing this," she calls down. "I really appreciate it."
"No problem." I grab two boxes that are sitting on the steps and head up the stairs. "That's what friends are for."
The apartment is small but clean. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room that opens into a galley kitchen. Completely empty except for the boxes we start carrying in. Mia moves with efficient purpose, directing where things should go. She's wearing faded jeans and a lightweight long-sleeved shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.
