Page 36 of After the Rain

And maybe, if I was very brave and very lucky, understanding myself would be the first step toward building something real with the man who'd changed everything with one tender kiss by a river.

The thought scared me. But it also filled me with a hope I hadn't felt in years.

I was going to figure out who Wade Harrison actually was.

And then I was going to decide what to do about Ezra Mitchell.

TEN

SMALL CRACKS

EZRA

Monday morning arrived like a slap to the face, cold and unwelcome.

I'd spent the weekend in a haze of forced normalcy—grading papers, meal prep, calling Uncle John to pretend everything was fine. But underneath the routine, I could feel something fracturing inside me, hairline cracks spreading through the careful walls I'd built around my heart.

The decision to step back from Wade should have brought relief. Instead, it felt like I was slowly suffocating.

Mrs. Garrett was waiting for me in the school parking lot.

Not lurking, exactly, but positioned strategically near the main entrance where she could intercept me before I reached the safety of my classroom. She stood beside her pristine SUV with another parent I recognized but couldn't name—a woman with perfectly styled blonde hair and the kind of smile that never reached her eyes.

My stomach dropped. This wasn't coincidence.

"Mr. Mitchell," Mrs. Garrett called out as I approached the building. "Could we have a word?"

Everything in me wanted to keep walking, to mumble something about needing to prepare for class and escape into the building. But refusing would only fuel whatever narrative she was building about my character.

"Of course. How can I help you?"

"We've been discussing some concerns about classroom dynamics this year," she began, her voice carrying the false sweetness that usually preceded character assassination. "Some of the parents have noticed that you seem to have... favorites among the students and their families."

The other woman nodded sagely, like this was a profound observation rather than thinly veiled accusation. "It's important that all children receive equal attention, don't you think?"

"I treat all my students with equal care and respect," I said carefully. "If you have specific concerns about your child's experience in my classroom, I'd be happy to discuss them during conference hours."

"Oh, this isn't about our children specifically," Mrs. Garrett said with a laugh that sounded like breaking glass. "It's about maintaining appropriate professional boundaries. Some of us have noticed that you spend quite a lot of time with the Harrison family. Home visits, personal conversations, that sort of thing."

There it was. The real reason for this parking lot ambush.

"Cooper Harrison needed additional support with a family project. Any assistance I provided was educational in nature and well within my professional responsibilities."

"I'm sure it was," the blonde woman said, but her tone suggested otherwise. "It's just that in a small community like ours, people notice when a single teacher spends personal time with a single parent. Especially when that teacher is... well, you understand."

The words hung in the morning air like poison gas. Especially when that teacher is gay. They didn't need to say it directly—the implication was crystal clear.

"I'm not sure what you're suggesting," I said, though I knew exactly what they were suggesting.

"We're not suggesting anything," Mrs. Garrett replied smoothly. "We're simply concerned about the appearance of things. What message does it send to our children when boundaries become... blurred?"

Heat flooded my face, but I forced my voice to remain level. "The only message I hope to send to any child is that their teacher cares about their education and wellbeing."

"Of course," the blonde woman said. "We just think it's important that care remains appropriately channeled. Professional, you know? Some relationships can become complicated when personal feelings get involved."

They were dancing around direct accusations, but the threat was unmistakable. They'd been watching me, documenting my interactions with Wade and Cooper, building a case based on prejudice and paranoia.

"I appreciate your... concern," I said finally. "But I'm confident that my professional conduct speaks for itself. If you have specific complaints about my teaching, I encourage you to speak with Dr. Williams."

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