Page 101 of Defending her Heart

“What is your connection to Paisley?” It’s not my place to ask when our front office has already approved the pick-up, which means the family approved, which means Nash sent this pretty, young, Ella person to get his daughter.

Is that why he’s been ghosting me all week? He’s already moved on? It doesn’t add up, especially how...sweet he’s been to me, but I can’t help the jealousy and insecurity that flares up.

“Hey, Paisley,” Ella says, looking behind me. “Ready to go home?”

“Sure,” my little traitor says as she goes to her cubby to gather her things. She doesn’t seem overly enthused—which for some reason makes me feel better—but recognizes this Ella person, so I back down.

“Bye, Miss Wentworth.” Paisley hugs my legs. “I love you.”

Fuck. My heart melts and I bend lower to squeeze her back. I don’t return the sentiment because it isn’t appropriate in this setting, but I hug her longer than I do my other students. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sweet Pea.”

Nash’s nickname for her slips from me. She doesn’t seem surprised and follows Ella out of my classroom.

My confusion and anger from this week have only intensified. If he needs help with Paisley, he could have asked me. He should have asked me. None of this makes sense, and with every hour that goes by without hearing from him, I grow angrier.

I don’t even care if he’s sleeping with this Ella person—lies, I do care—but he could do the decent thing we agreed on and tell me about her.

After another intense kickboxing workout, I’m a little calmer. While I’m showering, I talk myself out of believing he’s sleepingwith her. Nash isn’t that guy. But he did ask for a stranger to watch his daughter instead of reaching out to me.

Not only did henotreach out to me, but he also blatantly ignored me. I’m so not cool with that.

After my mom and sister are in bed, I sneak out of the house to avoid the questions I know they’ll ask. Mom’s been eyeing me a lot this week. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask if I’m okay, but she doesn’t. She’s learned that I’ll talk when I’m ready. I love and respect her for giving me my space.

It’s hard being thirty-two and still living at home. I still abide by my mother’s house rules and check in with her when I’m coming and going, and she gives me my space when needed.

It’s almost ten o’clock when I get to Nash’s. The upstairs lights are on, but there’s a glow from the downstairs windows. There’s an unfamiliar car in the driveway, and my stomach does that uncomfortable thing where it doesn’t know if it should cramp up or have me running for the bathroom.

Ignoring the cramps, I march up to the front door, and before I pound on it with my fist like I want to, I take a deep breath. There’s no need to wake up Paisley, even though she could sleep through a category five hurricane.

I roll my shoulders back, clear my throat, and knock on the door like a sweet little Girl Scout. When no one answers, I knock harder. This time the door opens, and Ella answers. She’s in the same jeans and sweatshirt from this afternoon, but her hair is piled in a messy bun that looks more stylish than messy, and I kinda hate her for how easily she makes sloppy look good.

“Can I help you?” she has the balls to ask, which makes me no longerkindahate her. Now I totally despise her.

“I’m here to see Nash.”

“And you are—” Realization hits her face, and she smiles at me. The fucking audacity. “You’re Paisley’s teacher, Miss Wentworth. Is everything okay? Is it normal to do house callsthis late? Oh, come in. It’s freezing out.” She pulls the door open and I step into Nash’s foyer.

“Is Nash here?”

“He’s in the shower but he should be out soon.”

Shower? I take a deep breath, my chest puffing out as it fills with air. I tell my inner bitch not to grab her by her fucking cute messy bun and throat punch her.

“Can I get you something to drink while we wait for him?”

There will be noweabout it. I’m about to tell her to get the fuck out of this house when Nash comes down the stairs. Fuck me. He’s wearing his glasses, a zip up hoodie, and gray sweatpants.

“Kendall?” He stops on the bottom step and cocks his head to the side. “What are you doing here?”

My stomach is no longer cramping, but my throat closes and I fight back the tears. I’m not a fucking crier, but the scene is all too familiar. It shouldn’t matter this time though because Nash and I aren’t in a relationship. We’re fuck buddies. Wewerefuck buddies. I hate myself more than the little Ella bimbo and Nash fucking can’t-keep-his-dick-in-his-sexy-gray-sweats for being jealous.

This was a no emotions and no feelings gig we had. It’s my fault for allowing the butterflies and romantic hearts to fill my stomach and head.

“If you don’t need me anymore, Nash, I’ll get going. See you tomorrow?” Ella gets her coat from the closet and heads to the door.

Nash opens it for her. “I’ll be home around dinner time.”

“Perfect.” She beams and gives him a wave before trotting off to her car.

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