Page 4 of Burn It Down

I look at the mug in front of me, knowing this is dangerously close to feelings and shit neither of us are comfortable with, so I let us both off the hook. “Tea? Really?”

He snorts at that, not drinking the liquid. “Shut up. She was hot.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course she was.”

“You want to hear something really fucked up?”

“Go for it,” I say, a small smile on my face.

“I don’t even remember her name.”

I snort at that and stand up, shoving him in the shoulder after grabbing my mug and then walking to the sink. “There’s the Bowen I know.”

But I am sure grateful I have him because I’m not so sure I could do this alone.

CHAPTER TWO

“You’re in far too good of a mood,” my friend and fellow first-grade teacher Janelle says as I pass her in the hall. I’m heading to my classroom after grabbing a cookie from the teacher’s lounge, and she’s right. I am in a really good mood.

“It’s meet-the-kids day! Why aren’t you happy?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Because it’s meet-the-kids day. Summer is over.”

I chuckle at her annoyed demeanor. It took a little getting used to—she’s been doing this a good ten years longer than I have and may be a little jaded. “Aw, don’t pretend like you didn’t miss me,” I tease.

She raises her middle finger discreetly, scratching her nose with it in my direction, and I cackle before blowing her a quick, menacing kiss before heading to my own classroom. I love summer. Don’t get me wrong—it’s the best.

But I love this part too. Getting my classroom ready and then meeting all the little kids who will fill it all year. I’m just settling in behind my desk when a tall figure walks through the doorway. I lift my head to greet my next parents and kiddo, but a small gasp leaves my lips when I see who it is.

Kade Mitchell.

There’s no way he’s actually standing here. It’s been seven years since we graduated from high school together, and somehow, he’s even better looking now than he was then—and back then he was like a god to me.

Embarrassing. Why yes, it is. Doesn’t make it any less true.

And even more sickening because he made my life a living hell in school—well, not really him specifically—that was mostly his friends. But to him, I was completely invisible, and that may have been even worse.

He’s so tall and broad, he nearly takes up the entire doorway. His dark hair is tousled on top of his head, a little longer on top and shorter on the sides. He still has the most gorgeous face I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing a bit of dark scruff on his face now, and those icy-blue eyes still cut right through me. He’s wearing a tight, black t-shirt that hugs his perfectly sculpted biceps, and I notice he has tattoos on both arms now. Not covered—but enough to add to his appeal—which only angers me further.

I notice he’s not alone though. Standing at Kade’s side and curled into him like he couldn’t be pried away with anything short of the jaws of life. The boy is small and looks nothing like Kade. His hair is light-blond, and he’s wearing a nervous look—his green eyes peering over at me with scared curiosity.

Right.I should probably get up to greet them. Kade Mitchell is a dad.

I mean, I knew his high school girlfriend was pregnant at graduation—so the assumption isn’t off base. And the protective way Kade has his hand on the little boy’s shoulder only adds to that theory.

I stand up and walk over to them, a bright smile on my face, even though I feel off-kilter approaching my high school crush who didn’t even know I existed. “Kade Mitchell.” I hold out my hand, and he cocks his head to the side, studying me closely withconfusion on his face as he reaches out his own hand for me to shake. Yeah, he doesn’t remember me at all. I’m not surprised, but I hate that it still stings. “Spencer Bell.” I wait to see if my name sparks any kind of recognition.

“Bell...” He’s still staring at me, and I can’t help but shift carefully from one foot to the other and try not to squirm under his perusal. To be fair—I don’t look the same as I did in high school.

I shot up a few inches in college and added pounds of muscle, thanks to the weight room on campus. “We went to school together,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my tone, but I’m unsuccessful.

“Spencer,” he says as if he does remember me, but I don’t think he does. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. I’m not that gangly nerd I was in school anymore.

I crouch to look at the young man with Kade. “Hi. I’m Mr. Bell. I’ll be your teacher this year. It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

The boy looks up at his father, hugging him closer to him, and then his green eyes meet mine. He’s truly adorable—angelic almost, with his blond hair and a cherubic face. But he’s timid and hesitant. “E-Elijah,” he says quietly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Elijah. It’s going to be a great year.”

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