In This Moment (In This Moment #1)

Home > Young Adult > In This Moment (In This Moment #1) > Page 19
In This Moment (In This Moment #1) Page 19

by A. D. McCammon


  She chuckles. “I asked where the two of you fell asleep.”

  “Does it matter?” Avoiding eye contact, I tap my nails on my mug, feigning disinterest, hoping the fluttering in my stomach from the memory of being in his arms isn’t evident.

  “It matters big time,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “Now, spill it. Were you in his bed?”

  I freeze mid-sip, my body tensing, and she squeals, “Oh my gosh, you were! You totally slept—” she cuts herself off midsentence as the sound of tiny feet barrels toward us. My eyes go wide, my blood chilling as my breath catches.

  “Oh yeah, your parents brought the kids home a little while ago. Did I forget to mention that?” Julianna says, grinning animatedly as the kids burst into the room.

  “Hey, guys!” I say, schooling my features and plastering a big smile on my face. “I didn’t know you were home. Did you have a good time?”

  “I did, Mommy,” Sean answers, embracing me with a quick hug before heading over to the refrigerator to get himself a juice.

  “Good. I’m glad, baby. What about you, Maddie?”

  She shrugs, taking a seat at the table. “Yeah, it was fun. Mimi gave me some gum, but it was sugar free.”

  I chuckle. My mother is notorious for giving them stuff I don’t normally let them have.

  “Where were you when we got home?” Maddison asks, and my heart skips a beat.

  “I, uh…well, I was…” I stammer, not knowing what else to tell her except the truth. “I was visiting with a friend.”

  “Brenden?” she presses, causing my breath to still. I hadn’t realized she knew anything about Brenden and certainly don’t feel prepared to have this conversation with her today.

  “Hey, Sean!” Julianna says, getting up from her seat. “Do you want to play trains with me?”

  “Yay!” he squeals, running out of the room with Julianna following behind him, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze on her way.

  “How do you know about Brenden, baby?” I ask as calmly as possibly, even though my heart is beating a mile a minute.

  “I heard you and Aunt Julia talking about him. Who is he?” she asks, blinking up at me, her eyes full of curiosity.

  “Brenden is just a friend of mine,” I answer, my voice strained as my stomach knots with guilt. My words may not be untruthful, but the context behind them is a lie. It implies I have no interest in him other than friendship, and I can no longer deny my feelings for him go beyond that.

  A frown pulls at my lips as I consider how being in a relationship with Brenden would work. Would I tell the kids about him or let him meet them? Would that even be fair to them? What happens if our relationship ends?

  “Do you want him to be your new husband?” she asks, as if I’d said my thoughts out loud.

  “Of course not. Why would you—” I stop myself, taking a moment to calm my breathing so my voice doesn’t sound so jarring.

  I clear my throat, ready to start again, but Maddison reaches over and takes ahold of my hand. Smiling, she says, “It’s okay if you like him, Momma.”

  My heart swells with pride as a warm smile spreads across my face. My little girl is so smart and mature, I almost forget how young she is sometimes. Her eyes are bright, her sweet innocence shining through. If only things were that simple.

  “This is Brenden Scott calling from Smyth Elementary about your child…” I pause to look down at the file in front of me. I’ve made so many of these calls today, all the names are beginning to run together. “…Jacob. If you could, please give me a call back at your earliest convince. Thank you.” I hang up the phone and let out a harsh breath.

  Today has been long and stressful, and I’m ready for it to end. It’s almost time for the best part of my day—talking to Lizzy. This weekend was amazing and I’m anxious to keep the ball rolling.

  I read the synopsis of When Harry Met Sally after she left and came to the conclusion that she knows our relationship isn’t merely friendship. Now, I’m even more motivated to keep the momentum going, but first, I have to finish reviewing these files.

  Several kids stopped coming to counseling shortly after I took over here and my boss wants me to reach out to every single one of their parents. I think she wants verification that their decision has nothing to do with me personally. I’m certainly praying that’s the case.

  I’ve reviewed four out of the ten files so far, speaking mostly to voicemails, which means I’ll get to do this again in a couple days if they don’t return my call. From what I can tell at this point, these are just kids who had something stressful going at the time they started coming to counseling, but are no longer in need of it. Apart from one kid who had clearly been coming just to get out of class.

  The next file is for Maddison Blake. I’ve only met her once, but she stuck out to me. She was one of the kids I’d been so nervous about working with. Her file indicated that she’d been having emotional outbursts in class and her teacher suggested the counseling, believing Maddison was having a hard time with the death of her father. I’ve never dealt with a child grieving over the loss of a parent and I was terrified I would do or say the wrong things since it wasn’t something I could even relate to.

  When I met with her though, she seemed well-rounded and content. I remember being impressed and amused by her large vocabulary and grown-up demeanor. So, it hadn’t exactly been a concern when she didn’t come back to my office. I assumed she just needed some time to adjust to losing her father and bounced back quickly, as children often do.

  Sighing in irritation, I flip to the back of her file to retrieve the parent contact info. I blink, then hold my eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them again, my brain not wanting to accept the information in front of me. It couldn’t be right…it just couldn’t be. The sound of my heart pounding echoes in my head as I flip back through the file, ensuring all the info is correct.

  Picking up my office phone, I hit extension one for the front desk. “Hey, Kendra, can you do me a favor? I need you to verify the contact info for Maddison Blake’s parent.” My breathing stills as I listen to her type on her computer, the room beginning to spin as she repeats exactly what I have in front of me. “Thanks.” Numb, I hang up the phone, my eyes glued on the file in front of me.

  Father: Alexander Blake − deceased.

  Mother: Elizabeth Shea

  I run my hand down my face, stopping at my beard and tugging. This is Lizzy’s Maddie? How can this be? Why doesn’t her daughter share her name? Why hadn’t she said anything about her daughter being in counseling?

  And fuck, Xander is dead? Why didn’t she just tell me that? This explains so much—like why she hasn’t been able to move on and gets so defensive over him. All this time, I’ve been jealous and worried she was going to go back to him, and she’s been coping with the loss of her husband—the father of her children.

  My stomach churns with guilt and anxiety as I slam the file closed. Pushing away from my desk, I rest my elbows on my knees and place my head in my hands. This isn’t something I can keep from Lizzy. We are going to have to talk about this, and I’m not sure how she’s going to react. I’m damn near hyperventilating just thinking about it.

  Christ, I never told her I was a counselor. What if she thinks I’ve been hiding this from her all along? What if my knowing causes her to push me away? I don’t know if I can handle her doing that to me again, and I don’t want to find out.

  Sitting upright, I loosen my tie and begin gathering my things. There’s no way I’m going to be able to focus on anything right now. I have to figure out a way to talk to her about this without upsetting her or setting our relationship back. I can’t lose her.

  The Counselor

  The loud laughter and chattering at the table pulls my attention away from my phone. I’ve been checking it repeatedly all morning, hoping to see a call or text from Brenden. He hadn’t called during his normal time last night, which I concluded I’ve gotten use to and dependent upon. I tried t
o ignore the gnawing worry in my gut at first, but eventually gave in and called him, and my call hadn’t been answered or returned.

  “What did I miss?” I ask the woman beside me, who I only know as Casey’s mom, feigning interest as I plaster a smile on my face. Volunteering for the PTO at Maddison’s school was the last thing I felt like doing today. I think I forgot just how painful these things can be, but I’m here, so I might as well make the best of it.

  “The new school counselor was just in here. Didn’t you see him?”

  “No,” I answer, shaking my head, realizing Maddison never talked about her visits with the counselor and I had never asked. “I didn’t even know they had a new counselor.”

  The woman narrows her eyes, her mouth twisting in judgment as she scoffs. I’ve never fit in with these women, and they’ve never been shy about making that obvious.

  “He’s been coming here for some time now. The other counselor went on leave and isn’t expected back until next year. I’m hoping she decides not to come back, though. He is seriously one fine piece of man meat.”

  I have zero interest in checking out some “piece of man meat”, but I do, however, want to speak with the counselor. I’ve been meaning to reach out for some time now to talk about Maddison. She seems to be doing well, but I’ve walked around with blinders on for so long, I don’t feel sure anymore.

  “Where might I find the counselor's office?”

  Casey’s mom raises her brow in question as her eyes scan over me. “Why?” she drawls.

  “Oh, I was hoping to see this guy for myself,” I lie, deciding it’s better for her to think I’m going to hit on the counselor than knowing I’m going to talk to him about my daughter.

  The woman’s red, glossy lips frown as she uses her well-manicured hand to point toward the office. “Third door on the right.”

  “Great, thanks!” I say, slapping the table as I stand up, the sound echoing through the nearly empty lunchroom.

  As I make my way toward the office, my stomach tightens from the ball of nerves growing inside me. I’m on my way to talk to a complete stranger about my daughter—a person who possibly knows things about her I don’t; a person who probably knows things about me they shouldn’t.

  I pull my cardigan tighter around me as a chill runs through me. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I keep my eyes focused on the ground in front of me until I come to an abrupt stop, my body slamming into something hard. With the wind and my thoughts knocked right out of me, I only realize the something is someone when I see their feet. Stunned and a little dazed from my collision, I shake my head, blinking as I look up to address the human wall. “Brenden?” I gasp, my breath catching as I take him in, thinking how impossibly sexy he looks in the dark-rimmed glasses he’s wearing. “What are you doing here?”

  My heart sinks as he sighs, his lips curving into a frown and eyebrows drawing together. This is not the kind of greeting I’m used to getting from him, and with the absence of his call, I’d already been feeling like something was off.

  “I work here,” he replies, his tone flat, his jaw ticking and posture tense.

  “Well,” I say as I clear my throat, alarms sounding in my mind. Why hadn’t I known that he worked at Maddison’s school? Was that why he refused to talk about his job? But why? “I was looking for the school counselor. You don’t happen to know where I can find him, do you?”

  Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath.

  “Brenden?” I croak, my heart seizing in my chest and my head spinning as I try to figure out what’s happening.

  “This way,” he grits out, motioning for me to follow him before he turns and walks away.

  My head throbs as we make our way down the short hallway to my office. I had way too much to drink last night, wanting to hide from the inevitable conversation I would have to have with Lizzy—the very one I’m now being forced to have unprepared. “Come in,” I tell her after opening my door and stepping inside the small windowless room. My chest tightens at the sight of her pale face and fear-filled eyes.

  “Brenden...what’s going on?” Lizzy asks as I shut the office door, her voice shrill and words hurried.

  “You wanted to speak to the school counselor,” I answer, turning to face her, staying close to the door to keep my distance and her inside. “I’m the school counselor.” When I force myself to meet her eyes, she blinks, her hands unsteady as she hugs herself.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll explain everything, but why don’t you sit down?” I gesture to the chair behind her and let out a breath of relief when she takes a seat.

  “Did you know who I was from the beginning?” she asks, her voice a near whisper, her eyes wet.

  “No,” I say, rushing over to kneel in front of her. “I didn’t know. I’ve never, and would never, lie to you, Lizzy. I swear.”

  I reach out for her hand, but she recoils from me, making my heart sink.

  “But you’re my daughter’s counselor?” Her eyes narrow as a single tear streams down her face and she angrily wipes it away.

  “Yes, but—” She holds her hand up, cutting me off.

  “And you didn’t think this was something I should know? What the hell is wrong with you? I guess I know now why you never wanted to talk about your work.” Her tone becomes more aggressive and thicker with each word, and my pulse increases right along with it.

  “No, it isn’t like that at all. Please, Lizzy, just let me explain,” I plead. “I didn’t know Maddison was your Maddie until yesterday, and I was going to tell you, I swear, I just—” I drop my head, unsure how to explain why I hadn’t told her right away.

  “Am I supposed to believe you’ve been counseling my daughter without realizing it?” she snaps, and I lift my eyes to meet hers again.

  “Her last name is Blake. How was I supposed to connect that to you?”

  “I didn’t take Xander’s last name when we got married,” she explains, even though I hadn’t asked. “But you didn’t seem to have a problem figuring things out yesterday.” Sitting back in her chair, she crosses her arms, her eyes focusing on the wall.

  Sighing, I shake my head. “That’s only because I was trying to reach her parent to talk about why she stopped coming to counseling.”

  Gasping, her eyes snap back to mine and go wide. “She stopped?”

  I nod, reaching out to place my hands on her shaky knees, more air rushing through my lungs when she doesn’t pull away this time.

  “But why?” she croaks as more tears begin to spill.

  “I’m not sure, but she’s really an exceptional girl and I think she’s going to be fine.”

  “Oh God,” she sobs, her head falling into her hands, “you must think I’m a nut bag.”

  “Hey,” coaxing her hands from her face, I look her into her eyes, “I don’t think that about you at all.” Wiping the tears off her face with my thumbs, I ask, “Why didn’t you tell me about Xander?”

  She takes a deep breath. “It isn’t something I really like to talk about, but with you…I think I liked you not knowing. I felt like you didn’t treat me the way everyone else tends to, the way I often feel—like I’m broken and damaged.”

  I take her hands in mine and give them a gentle squeeze. “My knowing doesn’t change the way I see you, or the way I feel about you. I doubt anything ever could.”

  Her eyes flutter as she bites down on her quivering lip. “It’s not fair,” she whines. “You’ve seen the worst sides of me and know things about me most don’t, but I feel like there is so much of you that’s still a complete mystery to me.” An odd sound that seems to be some kind of hybrid between a sob and laugh comes out of her mouth as she playfully hits me, her hand still in mine. “I didn’t even know what you did for a living, for Christ’s sake.”

  I laugh even though my blood cools, my heart stopping altogether as it freezes. She’s right. I haven’t been open with her and it isn’t f
air. If I want this thing between us to be real, I need to share my darker parts with her too, and knowing that scares the hell out of me.

  “Fair enough. If you want to know me better, even the darker parts of me, I’ll share them with you,” I tell her, my vision blurring and stomach knotting as bile rises up my throat from the mere thought of where to even begin.

  “I really do,” she answers, nodding as her hands tighten around mine.

  “All right.” Pausing, I take a moment to swallow the stomach acid in my throat and inhale a deep, calming breath. My past isn’t pretty. I hate having to relive it. Since I already have to come face to face with it at the end of the week, I think perhaps it would be easier to show her. “Are you free Friday afternoon?”

  Darkest Corners

  “He nearly lost his life, can’t this shit wait?” Jon’s booming voice breaks through the fog surrounding me.

  My eyelids feel so heavy, my head throbs in protest as I lift them, registering the rhythmic beeping around me.

  “We’re just doing our job, sir,” an unfamiliar voice replies as I blink, trying to focus my eyes. The light is so bright, it seems blinding.

  Mrs. Alder’s face comes into view, her features filled with worry and eyes wet. “He’s awake!” she exclaims, letting out a sob as she takes my hand in hers. “Hey there, sweetie. You gave us quite the scare, but you’re going to be okay.”

  “A scare,” Jon scoffs from the other side of me, and I turn to look at him. His features are schooled, except for the tight smile on his face, but his eyes are bloodshot and his normally clean-shaven face looks gruff. “I think I aged ten years.”

  I narrow my eyes, still disoriented and confused. I’m not sure what’s going on or where I am. “What…” I croak, my dry throat keeping me from speaking.

  “Oh, here, sweetie,” Mrs. Alder says, placing a cup in my hand. “Take a drink of water.”

  As I bring the cup to my mouth and try to sit up more, a pain in my chest ripples through my body. The memory of the cold, hard steel piercing my flesh reminds me exactly what happened and clues me in on where I must be now. It hadn’t been a bad dream. It was all real—this is my life.

 

‹ Prev