by Mia Ford
“I'm sorry,” I said softly.
I yearned to reach over and comfort her, to console her and make her feel right – but I knew it was dangerous and neither one of us could afford to take that risk, so I stayed on the other side of the desk.
She shrugged and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I don't know why I decided to paint it,” she said. “I guess because I feel like her, in a way. I sometimes have that same sense of loneliness now that they're both gone. I understand it now.”
“Being alone in this world sucks,” I said. “Trust me, I know it all too well.”
“You have your daughter,” she said, smiling slightly. “And what you two have, the little family you two have carved out – it's a beautiful thing. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She moved the painting and placed it underneath her desk as if to hide it away. Perhaps it was too personal for her to allow her students to see it.
“You mentioned wanting to see some of my work,” she said, pulling out another canvas and some drawings. “Well, have it. Tell me what you think.”
There was a portrait done with charcoal – a simple black and white portrait of a child. The eyes, everything about it, felt so real. So lifelike. There was a dimension to it that most people couldn't capture that Paige did so well.
As I looked at the portrait, I could feel the actual emotion in the eyes of the child as they smiled gleefully, at something in the distance.
I looked through all the drawings, most of them were similar. Portraits. All of them really, really good. The other painting she'd brought for me to see was the only thing she showed me that hadn't been a charcoal portrait, and it was an abstract painting done in bright, vivid watercolors. Paige was incredibly talented. Most of what I saw could be hanging in a gallery somewhere. Probably should be hanging in a gallery somewhere. Which made me wonder why they weren't.
“Wow,” I said, staring down at everything. “You're very talented. You could seriously make a living with your portraits alone.”
“You mean working at an amusement park, right?” she rolled her eyes. “Been there, done that. I worked that gig in high school and college – it barely paid minimum wage. There's no way in hell I could make ends meet on that in this day and age.”
“No, I mean custom work,” I said. “And charging what your worth, of course.”
“No one appreciates art anymore,” she said.
“I disagree.”
“Okay, fine, yes – they appreciate body art and they're willing to pay for that,” she said. “But for portraits to hang on the walls of their home? Nah. They want cheap. Or photographs. Nobody apprecitates my medium anymore.”
“Have you tried advertising your services? Especially in this community?” I raised an eyebrow as I asked. “Because I'm willing to bet these rich people would pay an absolute ton for custom family portraits like some of the ones you showed me. You could make a killing at it.”
“Yeah?” she looked down at the drawings again and sounding like she just might consider it. “I just don't know where to start.”
“I can help you,” I said. “I know all about getting your name out there and advertising – ”
I stopped short once I remembered – I was supposed to be spending less time with Paige, not more. Working with her on something like getting an art business up and running for her meant we'd be spending more time together. Which wasn't what either of us needed at that point in time.
“You'd do that? For me?” she asked, giving me a look that said she was doubtful. “I mean, after what happened last night, I figured you'd want to run away before I got the wrong idea.”
I did need to run away, but not for the reason she was thinking.
“Paige, we really need to talk about last night – ”
“I know,” she sighed, staring down at her desk. “It can't happen again, right?”
“We probably shouldn't let it,” I said.
“Because of Harley and the mysterious stuff going on in your life, huh?”
I heard the sarcasm dripping from her voice, as if she thought all of it was just an excuse. But it wasn't. She just didn't understand the danger she could be putting herself in if she got involved with me. And the last thing I wanted was for her to get hurt – or worse – because she got caught in the crossfire. Because of me.
“Paige, you have no idea what – ”
She stopped me. “I get it. You don't want to date me. I'm an adult, a grown woman, I can handle that,” she said. “That's why I'm surprised you would want to help me with my art business. You normally don't offer to help out with stuff like that. Especiall not after a one night stand.”
“You're not just a one-night stand though – ”
She pursed her lips and stared at me, hands on her hips. “It can't happen again, you need to keep your distance. You said those things,” she said. “So, what about it makes it more than just a one-night stand?”
“Because – ”
But she was right. And I looked like an ass.
“My first class will be here any minute,” she said. “As much as I enjoyed this conversation, I think you might want to go.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to stay. But I knew I couldn't.
I knew I shouldn't.
“I'll see you around, Paige,” I said, feeling lousy and walking toward the door. “And let me know if you'd like help with your business.”
“Yeah, sure,” she muttered, putting her artwork away. “See you around, Elias.”
Her voice told me all I needed to know. She was hurt and angry, and she had every right to be. I should have put a stop to it before we'd slept together. But now, it was far, far too late.
I'd screwed up, yet again. As usual.
ooo000ooo
“We still on, Elias?” Mav asked me over the phone that afternoon.
“Do I have a choice in the matter?”
“Not really,” he replied. “Not if you want to keep your kid, you don't.”
I let out a long, deep sigh, but didn't say I was in or out. Instead, I put the focus on getting answers for Paige. Answers she was entitled to. Answers she deserved.
“So my daughter's teacher said someone broke into her house the other night. She said nothing was taken, but somebody went through her shit,” I said. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“The hot, young redhead? Yeah, maybe,” he said.
“What the fuck, Mav?”
“Look, we just wanted to check her out,” he said. “See what her deal was.”
“Why, man?” I asked, pacing the room. “What could she possibly have anything to do with any of this?”
“Why are you so concerned about her if she's just your daughter's teacher?” he asked me.
“Because she's innocent in all of this,” I said.
“But she means something to you, yeah?”
“No, of course not,” I said, lying through my teeth.
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I think I'd know, man,” I spat.
“Then what was she doing at your shop?”
“I left my phone in her classroom when we had a meeting about my daughter,” I said, hoping I wasn't giving myself away. “She dropped it off at the shop for me. But aside from talking about Harley – ”
“So she didn't just sleep over at your place last night?”
I froze in place and looked toward the window that looked out onto the street. Someone had been watching me. Clearly, someone had been keeping tabs on me and watching my apartment. Were they out there now? I walked over to the window and stared out at the street. I looked both ways, seeing the cars I usually saw most days. There was nothing unusual out there that I could see. There were no strange vans or other vehicles and there was hardly anyone on the street.
It was the same view as it always was. But somewhere, out there, a spy for Mav and the MC was hiding. Watching me. And reporting my every move back to
those assholes.
“Doesn't mean she matters to me,” I said, a chill running down my spine. “Like you haven't ever hooked up with somebody you weren't into.”
“She means enough for you to bring her up in this conversation,” he said. “Maybe we need to keep an eye on her as well. Just in case things go south with you or you try to weasel out of this deal. I'd really hate to see that happen, man. She's a beautiful girl. It'd be a shame if anything – ”
“Shut the fuck up, man,” I growled. “Don't even start throwing out threats like that.”
Mav laughed softly on the other end of the line. I'd given myself away – he knew Paige meant something to me. But it wasn't like I had a choice. He'd threatened her and I'd simply reacted. I sighed and turned away from the window – but closed the blinds, making sure no one could see inside. It was a little like closing the barn door after the horse was already out, but what the fuck else could I do? At least I could keep anybody from seeing inside anymore.
“So, are we going to have a problem?” Mav asked.
“It's not gonna be an issue, man,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper as I spoke.
“Good,” Mav said. “That's real good. For everybody involved.”
I had very little choice in the matter. Which was to say I had zero choice in the matter. Even without Paige, they had Harley to use against me. They had me painted into a corner, knowing I was stuck. Even if I tried to run away, tried to head for another state or leave the country outright, I'd be leaving Paige behind. And if I blew them off or just ran, Paige would endure the wrath of the MC. My actions would blow back on her in a big, nasty way. And I couldn't let that happen.
Everything was unfolding just like I feared it would. Despite doing what I could to keep her separate and apart from it, she was now fully caught up in my shit. Her life was in danger because I couldn't keep it in my pants. I'd let the fact my wants and desires overcome my reason. I should have turned her away, never let her in. And I sure as hell should never have fucked her. Because now, she was firmly in the crosshairs and anything I did would rain down on her.
Just like always, I'd fucked things up in tremendous fashion. Go me.
Chapter Fifteen
PAIGE
“Alright, we have to let the shirts dry,” I said, helping the kids put their newly tie dyed shirts on a drying rack. “Make sure your name is on the collar, and once they're dry, I'll give them to your teachers to give to you.”
It was the last class of the day, and my room was a mess. It was more of a disaster than usual, which was really saying something. Why I'd thought tie dying shirts would make for an easy, fun activity was beyond me.
I looked down at myself and saw that I was covered in dye from head to toe, which was impressive given that I hadn't even dyed myself a shirt. But I had a million little hands grabbing at me and touching everything in sight – which meant there was dye everywhere. There were brightly colored stains all over the room and I knew it was going to be hell to clean up. The janitor was going to absolutely hate me.
I walked the kids out to the hallway to wait for their teacher, who was running a little late. As the kids got themselves all lined up, chatting excitedly amongst themselves, I noticed someone lurking at the end of the hall. A man. A man I'd never seen before. I had no idea who it was, but I suddenly got a very strange, very ominous feeling about him. I suddenly didn't feel very safe – which terrified me given the herd of children I was responsible for.
“Come on, kids,” I said, ushering them back into the classroom. “Let's go back inside and clean up while we wait for Mrs. Wells, okay?”
The kids grumbled and groaned, but they filed back into the room and started to pick things up. With all the threats of school shootings and other acts of violence flashing through my mind, my heart was racing. As soon as we were inside the classroom, I locked the door and called the office.
Whispering into the phone so the kids didn't hear me, I told them “There's a strange man pacing the halls. I think you need to send somebody to check it out. Quickly, please.”
Given of all the threats and violence in the news lately, I knew the administration would take things seriously. I assured the woman I spoke to that my door was locked, and they said they'd send someone down to check the man out right away.
The doors to our building were usually locked during school hours and required anybody coming to the school to be buzzed in by the office. Usually, visitors had to be logged and ID's checked before they were allowed access to the classroom areas.
But I knew that some parents knew how to get around it. Oftentimes, back doors and side doors were left cracked open or unlocked, giving anybody and everybody access to all of the classroom and all of the children. I'd raised the point with administration more times than I could count, but they'd never done anything about it. So, just to ease my own mind, I usually checked all the doors I could and made sure they were latched when I walked by. But the fact that some people continued to leave them cracked open or unlocked posed a serious safety problem.
A knock at the door startled me, nearly causing me to jump straight out of my skin. I stifled a cry of surprise and fear and hesitated before answering, just in case. The kids heard the knocking and figured it was probably Mrs. Wells. They looked at me, wondering why I was still standing there and not opening the door.
Clearing my throat, I walked over to the door, but didn't unlock it. Instead, I tried to speak to whoever was on the other side first.
“Who's there?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Mrs. Wells, of course,” she said. “Who else would it be?”
The voice was familiar and I felt a wave of relief wash over me, but still, I didn't want the kids walking the halls with a stranger running loose. I wanted to get the all clear from security before I let them go. I opened the door and quietly explained what was going on to Mrs. Wells. She looked up and down the hallway ebfore looking back at me like I'd lost my mind.
“I haven't seen anybody out here,” she said. “Maybe it was a janitor or security?”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, maybe,” I said. “I just figured, better to be safe than sorry.”
“Absolutely. You did the right thing,” Mrs. Wells said and smiled. “I'll be sure to keep an eye out.”
I really, really didn't want to let them leave the relative safety of my classroom. Not until I'd heard from the administration. I leaned out and stared down one side of the hallway and then the other. I saw security guard walking my way and felt a little more relieved. At least there was somebody waling the halls.
We waited until he got to where we were standing at my classroom door and I asked, “Is it clear?”
He shrugged. “I can't find anyone,” he said. “I saw someone leave out this way. Looked like it could have been the father of Harley Jones.”
Maybe I was overreacting and whoever had been in the hallway had been there for any devious or nefarious reason. It could have been anybody. But Elias? He had no reason to be there, and I would have recognized him in the hallway. I'd have recognized him in a heartbeat. And who I'd seen wasn't Elias. I would have bet every last cent I had on it.
“I'm pretty sure it wasn't Elias Jones,” I said haughtily. “Just because he was wearing a leather jacket like he does – ”
The guard held up his hands. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Maybe it wasn't Mr. Jones. But there's nobody in the halls now. It's safe to let the kids out.”
With the security guard's word, I let the children follow Mrs. Wells back to her classroom. Still, watching them walk away with the image of the mysterious man in the hallway made me a nervous wreck. I continued watching them until they reached the end of the hall and turned away, out of my sight.
I'd seen someone, and it wasn't Elias. I knew that much with absolute certainty. As I closed the door, I found myself alone in my classroom. The silence was profound and carried an almost oppressive weight to it. I felt like there was something bad c
oming our way. It was out on the horizon like a storm, but that storm was rushing in quickly. And I worried that it would be upon us sooner rather than later, and when it arrived, it was going to pack one nasty punch.
The overwhelming urge to call Elias and ask him about it – just in case it had been him for some strange reason – came over me. But I didn't want to come off sounding needy, or like I was making up an excuse to talk to him. Besides, he wanted to keep his distance and I needed to honor that request. Honestly, I knew I should probably do the same. There was no use chasing after a guy who wasn't interested in you, after all. Doing that would only lead to frustration and heartache in the long run. And I sure as hell didn't need that in my life in the least.
Still, I found it hard to stop thinking about him. Especially after everything we'd done and shared last night. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel his body against mine. Feel him inside of me. Smell his skin and hear his voice. The memory was enough to reignite the fire that burned between my thighs for him, but I had to stifle it. Squash it. I couldn't afford to let myself go there again. Not anymore. He'd made himself clear about that and as much as it sucked, I needed to respect it.
But damn, if it hadn't been an amazing night.
ooo000ooo
I was in the middle of cleaning up my classroom – my door still shut – when someone knocked. A chill passed through me as I remembered the creepy guy in the halls earlier and hesitated. But, it was also after school so the hallways were crowded – there were parents and their kids about as well.
“Yes?” I said.
“Paige – err – I mean, Miss Cleary?”
Damn. It was Elias. For someone who wanted to keep his distance, he sure stopped by a lot. Not that I was complaining all that much. I had to admit that I enjoyed seeing him. And if I had my way, I'd see a lot more of him.
“One sec,” I said.
I muttered under my breath as I wiped my hands off on some paper towels. I unlocked the door and opened it to find Harley and Elias standing there staring back at me. Harley had a huge smile spread across her adorable little face.