Lover: A Student Teacher Romance (Court University Book 4)

by Eden O'Neill

  “Okay. You wanna talk?” I directed a look her way. “Let’s talk about that closure, Ma. Let’s talk about poison. Let’s talk about how your ex-husband—my father—is such a visceral piece of fucking shit that there are places in your own house you can’t even stomach to walk into because they remind you of him.”

  She’d gotten the house in the divorce, and she hadn’t stayed in their bedroom for years, his shit still in the closet like he had a right.

  She couldn’t even bring herself to throw it out.

  It pained her, still obviously. She closed her eyes. “Ramses…”

  “You say he’s still such a part of my life? That I can’t talk about it. Talk about him?” I shook my head. “When will you move on, Mom? When will you start dating, Mom? Because you haven’t. Not in all these years.”

  Her lashes opened, her head raised. “I’m not ready yet, son.”

  “And maybe I’m not ready.” I lifted a hand. “For that closure you think I’m ready for.”

  I was aware of how I was being, an asshole. Especially for talking to my mom in such a way. I didn’t do that.

  Why did she always have to push?

  The pair of us sat in silence as she cuffed her legs and I worried. I worried about what she’d say. That she’d push again, and I’d say something I really couldn’t take back. I only saw red in that moment, blinded by a haze of internal bullshit. It was because I hadn’t talked to anyone.

  Of this, I knew.

  Of this, I was completely aware. But I was so stubborn, I couldn’t get out of my own way. Mom was never like that.

  I really was my father’s son.

  The thought sobered me, kept me silent and clicking on keys again. I didn’t even see the emails I was drafting, but that didn’t matter. It kept me distracted.

  “I was just trying to help, baby.”

  And like a son of a bitch, I let my mother kiss the top of my head before getting up. I let her leave, and it wasn’t until my phone buzzed beside me, I actually moved.

  Bri: Just wanted to say goodnight. Hope everything was fun at taco night. *taco emoji* *dancing girl emoji*

  I fucking laughed, actually laughed. What the fuck?

  Wetting my lips, I texted her back.

  Me: Where are you?

  Bri: Home, of course. Why? Everything okay?

  Everything wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. I started to text her the details.

  But ended up doing this.

  Me: I want you to come over. To my house in Maywood Heights.

  I’d never asked her. We usually just stayed on campus. It was convenient. But we obviously both weren’t there.

  Bri: I’m not sure. You know, meetings in town…

  Couldn’t be controlled and something we never did. Mom lived here so naturally we avoided in-town meetings. But she wasn’t here now.

  Me: Mom left. Please. I need you.

  Bri: What’s going on? Did something happen?

  Rather than try to convince her, I tossed my phone down. I probably could have pleaded with her.

  I just chose not to.

  Honestly, I didn’t know why. Why I had such a goddamn hard time reaching out. Instead, I sat with my thoughts, but it wasn’t long before my phone buzzed again.

  Bri: Text me your address.

  Bri: I’m coming.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bri

  Ramses had a big house. Gray shutters. Pale brick. A true home from the white columns out front to the quaint decor inside.

  The choice surprised me. Nothing screamed bachelor about the place. Like one day, he’d planned for a family to be here with him. The fact that Evie lived maybe five blocks away only emphasized it. Grandma only a hop, skip, and a jump down the street.

  The size of the tub matched the house.

  It had to be to accommodate him and made it easy to wrap my legs around him.

  It made it even easier to hold him.

  Ramses angled his big body back into my arms as I scooped cups of water over his broad chest, his large shoulders. I followed the muscled surface down to his biceps, lacing our fingers once I got there. There was something incredibly intimate about this besides the obvious, and we’d been in the bath so long the water wasn’t even warm anymore.

  He’d said that was what he wanted to do.

  He’d wanted to bathe together, be together, and we hadn’t even had sex. We just were, and I’d be lying to say I wasn’t worried. His text messages had been so off, and we never met up in Maywood Heights. I had my reservations about it. Small town, people talked. True, people around here didn’t know me from Adam, but they knew him. A mere description and Evie would know exactly who had strolled down the sidewalk with him.

  Went to his house.

  I held him, hugging his chest. He’d been silent so long, smelled like heaven. I mouthed kisses across his neck, and something deep and carnal radiated from his chest. He held my hand, his forehead grazing my chin.

  “I got in an argument with my mom today,” he said. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “A pretty bad one.”

  My throat constricted and almost immediately. An argument?

  With Evie?

  Basically instantly, I thought the argument surrounded us. That maybe she found out about us somehow. We’d been careful. We didn’t even meet on campus. Just at his duplex and for our jogs, of course.

  Had it been that?

  All kinds of scenarios traveled in my head, and in my silence, Ramses tilted his head back. He cupped a hand to the entire right side of my face, his smile faint as he pushed it up into my hair. He was a complete god, skin moist from our bath and muscled frame oozing of sex. I was even getting used to his hair, which he still kept short. He shifted in the bath. “It wasn’t about us if that’s what you’re thinking.” He laughed light. “She doesn’t even know about us, Bri.”

  He kissed me as if to assure me, and as my guard loosened and anxiety faded, I felt like a complete ass for even thinking that. For defaulting to that. He’d said he and his mom got into an argument, and freaking immediately, I’d made whatever that regarded about me.

  I was an ass.

  I was selfish and definitely when it came to him. I had him all to myself, in my own little world with him like I had that right.

  “I’m sorry.” I nudged his cheek with my nose, because I was sorry. So damn sorry for being selfish. I gripped my wrist around his front. “What happened? I mean…”

  I had no right to that information either, to butt in, especially when it came to the private relationship he had with his mom. Neither was me knowing appropriate, either. She was my friend, and I had to draw the line somewhere.

  I lifted my hand. “You don’t have to tell me. That’s private.”

  He sat with that, the candles he’d lit flickering waves across his golden skin. He’d lined the tub with them, this whole thing romantic, soothing. I wasn’t quite sure he’d been aiming for the former. The ambiance brought this whole room peace and maybe that’d been something he needed. We could only see each other through the warm light with the lights off.

  Like stated, all this was incredibly intimate.

  The conversation somehow embed that way as well. Ramses’s hand circled my arm. He ran it up and down, sliding along my damp flesh.

  “Ask me about it.” He angled a look up at me again. “Ask and I’ll tell you. I want to tell you.”

  He did?

  We definitely didn’t operate that way. In fact, when we told each other stuff, it simply spilled out like word vomit. It’d never been by choice. Like the need to tell each other our innermost thoughts and secrets just pulled from each other. Like our bodies knew to trust the other.

  Even when our brains didn’t.

  This was a new level, actually initiating that trust without frenzy or panic. I touched my chin to his shoulder. “I only want to know if you want to tell me.”

  He extended his neck, staring up at the ceiling. He shifted and the water sloshed, loo
king at me. “I want to tell you. So, ask me.”

  Something scared me about his statement. I didn’t know why, but it did.

  It reminded me of that day I’d caught December at his house, this feeling of impending doom I couldn’t identify.

  In this case, fight or flight surrounding something more internal. That something was happening here, and I wasn’t sure if I should stop it.

  Or if I wanted to.

  He laced our fingers, and I swallowed.

  “Please tell me?” I asked, because I did want to know. I wanted to know everything. Everything about him he could give. I hugged him. “I want to know.”

  And so, he did.

  He told me details about him and his mother, the argument, of course, but something else too. He told me about his father, and something Evie had never shared. I’d never pressed her about it. I mean, people got divorced every day.

  But this?

  “My father is in prison for covering up a murder,” he said, tugging my arms in like he was holding me and not the other way around. Like it wasn’t him who needed the security, the warmth and love. He wet his lips. “The murder of my best friend’s sister. December’s sister.”

  My God.

  “It happened in high school,” he said, nodding. “And I left this town. Haven’t seen my father in years.”

  He went on to say it’d been his uncle to commit the murder, Ramses’s old headmaster from his school, and the story surrounding was like something off of Dateline.

  As well as the stuff of nightmares.

  It was Ramses’s nightmare in real life, December’s nightmare. They’d come into each other’s lives because of all that had happened.

  They’d somehow become best friends.

  They had such a deep history, and one I hadn’t understood. They really were here for the other.

  And God, Ramses.

  His mom was pushing him to see his dad, get closure. His dad wanted to see him, and the retelling made his chuckle dry.

  “He actually said he did it for family back then,” Ramses said now, smirking. Though, he found nothing funny. In fact, most of his story he’d been in a far-off place, eyes vacant, voice hollow. He encircled my wrist. “Before the trial and all that, family. He said he had to protect us. My uncle Leo, my mom and me and the family’s image.” He shook his head. “He said he’d do anything.”

  My chest hurt, physically pained but only for him. I squeezed him. “How is December?”

  “She’s fine. Well, as fine as she can be.” His chest rose with weighted breath. “Time has passed. That helped.”

  But still.

  I closed my eyes before facing him. “Will you see him?” My knuckles ghosted his cropped hair. “You don’t have to, you know.”

  “Maybe I should.” His smile was faint. “Get that closure. My mom’s probably right. It’s plaguing me. Makes me do stupid things.”

  He didn’t go into that, but really, he didn’t have to. In all honesty, I had no idea why he was telling me any of this at all. He most certainly didn’t have to.

  I touched a forehead to his shoulder. “I’m glad you told me.”

  The smile tugging his lips widened. He angled his head back. “I’m glad I did too. Made me feel better. Go figure. Talking.”

  That same smile pulled at my lips as well, his hair rough against my fingertips. “But you know you didn’t have to, right? You never have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

  I’d never make him, nor expect it. Our problems were our own, and we didn’t have to share them.

  The water shifted as he rose from the bath, inch after inch of hard body. He captured me in between his solid arms, his wet fingers gliding through my hair. The first thing I’d done was tug my hair down, the tips wet.

  Ramses followed them down, looping around a lock before tipping my chin. He framed my face, guiding me to face him.

  “I will tell you anything you want to know about me,” he said, eyes scanning mine. “I’m an open book when it comes to you. I told you I want to try.”

  And so that fear returned, that hesitance. His reason for telling me this and being open. We’d never had that relationship before, not without frenzy or backed by fear. He told me things when he was scared. Not when he had control.

  It told me something about him, where he was and where I was. It told me he was open. That he was willing to try like he said.

  He tilted my head forward to touch his mouth. “I want you to know me. Everything, Brielle.” He lifted my head. “I told you, no regrets.”

  No regrets. No fear.

  If only it were that easy.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bri

  When Ramses texted about drinks tonight with his friends, I almost dropped my phone.

  Which was why he immediately followed up that said drinks would be at a friend’s house—in private.

  Ramses: It was December’s idea. She wants to meet you without being in a towel *grin emoji*

  Which meant he’d talked about us… fine. She already knew, but now, it sounded like more than one friend would too.

  So, then he sent another text.

  Ramses: Stop freaking out because I know you’re freaking out. This is an intimate gathering. You and me, December and Royal, and their friends, Knight and Greer. Yes, they are all students at the university. No, they won’t say anything. You know, I told December because I can trust her. Well, she told her friends because she can trust them. None of them talk to my mom. We’re good.

  Ramses: Anything else? *smile emoji*

  This had all been sent without a response from me and told me epically how much he got me. It told me severely how much he knew me…

  Without really knowing me.

  I still guarded a lot of my heart from him, even when he had opened up that night in the bath. I was aware of this and planned to work at it. I did want him to know everything about me too.

  It was just hard for me.

  Spilling my secrets didn’t just tell him but made me face them when I didn’t want to. I did a good job of burying them deeply.

  Ramses reminded me on the daily, no pressure. He wouldn’t pressure me but wanted me to know he was open.

  He made it so easy to be with him, trust him, so I did agree to go have drinks with his friends. As it turned out, they’d be held on campus at December’s place. We’d be near his, right next door.

  The event was BYOB, and in addition, we’d been assigned sweets duty. The others were bringing finger foods as well.

  I had no problem with that, and Ramses took us both by the grocery store after I got out of work and he finished his classes.

  I’d been better about us being in the same vicinity as the other when we were just out and about. Places like grocery stores were fine. Everyone shopped for food, and if we did run into someone we knew, a colleague or even his mom, we could pass off we’d run into each other.

  I knew this probably sounded silly. We’d been seeing each other for over a month at this point, but with graduation (and our deadline) around the corner, I didn’t see the need to change anything. Our arrangement had been working fine, so I didn’t see the point in changing things up.

  Ramses and I split up once we got to the store, assigning me to the liquor while he got the sweets. The liquor department was on the other side of the store, so we covered more ground that way. Of course, he offered to go with me, but I didn’t mind. Anyways, we could get in and out quicker.

  He merely shook his head at me, knowing that was why I wanted to split up but didn’t say anything. He never did. He simply kissed me on the top of my head before parting off, and I ventured to get one half of our supplies.

  The grocery store had an entire liquor wing, so actually finding what I wanted was a chore, but I found the wines I liked. I figured a dessert wine would be good with whatever Ramses got.

  I’d been scanning the shelf when a girl in a short jacket and shorts sidled up beside me. It’d warmed up
outside since spring had hit, but it wasn’t that warm. Her arms were full of wine coolers, and I thought she’d just grab something off the shelf next to me, but she didn’t.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s totally you!” she chanted, actually giddy in her flip-flops. Again, it wasn’t that warm, but what could I say about young people. I’d caught Ramses wearing flip-flops in the snow one time to get the mail. She grinned. “Brielle Norrington?”

  I stiffened immediately.

  And for obvious reasons.

  I’d changed my name back to my maiden name following the divorce.

  But hell, if this girl knew. Why did she know?

  She bounced on her thongs. “It’s totally you. Oh my god. How are you even here right now?”

  I shook my head, not really knowing what to say and she giggled.

  She cuffed my arm. “My dad, hell, my whole family loves your husband. He was our favorite player back in the day.”

  “Ex-husband,” I squeaked, and her face immediately fell.

  “Yeah, I know,” she tsked, actually tsked, like it was a shame and not the relief it’d been to leave him. I guess that part of my life had been secret. She shook me. “We were all so sorry to hear about that. Still can’t believe that. You guys were married what?”

  “Over ten years.” How was I even having this conversation right now?

  You have to leave.

  Fight or flight back in full blown action, and perhaps she knew, her face falling.

  “You guys have been through so much,” she said. “It’s a shame you both didn’t stick together. Paparazzi suck. You’d think they’d learn after Princess Di.”

  I swallowed.

  “Anyway, can I get a picture? My family would just…” She made a motion like her head exploded, and I felt so outside of my body I allowed this girl to tug me over and snap a selfie with me.

  Like I was a circus performer.

  She placed a filter on us and everything, tapping a caption before popping it on social media in front of me. She giggled. “I’m low-key freaking out right now. Just… Ah! Thank you. This is great!”