Page 13 of Defending her Heart

He’s obviously pretending to be a decent father because of his neglect these past five weeks, but the way Paisley responded tells me maybe he does make her clean up after herself.

When she and Oliver are out of earshot, his attention and his evil scowl return to me. “I wouldn’t have recognized you out of your revealing clothes and the way you hang off every available and unavailable man at the bar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Does your administration know about your extracurricular activities? Your reputation isn’t one most would find complementary to a kindergarten teacher, especially at a school like Revere. I can’t believe my parents let you in my house with my daughter.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I growl at him, my voice low enough that Paisley and Oliver can’t hear me.

“Does your administration know what a farce you’re putting on? Pretending to be prim and proper Monday through Friday and then slutting around town on the weekends?”

“Do you need a minute to think about the fucking words coming out of your mouth?”

He lifts a brow and tips his head. “Exactly my point. Is this what you’re teaching our kids?”

I’m not one to be speechless. Ever. If we were anywhere but standing in my kindergarten class, I’d go ape shit crazy on him. Instead, I clench my teeth together and poke at his chest.

“Fuck. You.”

“I’ll be bringing up your behavior and your use of expletives in your classroom with your supervisor.”

“You’re lucky we’re in my classroom or I’d fucking throat punch you,” I seeth through my teeth.

“I’m ready to go home, Daddy.” Paisley wiggles between us and looks up at me. “Are you coming to our house today too, Miss Wentworth?”

I plaster on my best smile and crouch down to her level. “Not today, honey. That was a one off.”

“What’s a one off?”

“It means it was a one time situation. I was helping your grandma and grandpa out.”

“But I like playing with you.” She tilts her head to her father. “Can Miss Wentworth come for ice cream with us?”

“Miss Wentworth has a lot of cleaning up to do around here. Come on, Sweet Pea.” He takes her hand and I rise to standing.

She tugs him to the door and I hear him mutter under his breath, “Cleaning up her mouth and classroom while she looks for another job.”

I feel my face burn with anger. The fucking arrogance of this asshole. Somehow I keep my cool until after Oliver is picked up, then I finalize my lesson plans for tomorrow and text the group chat while I storm out to my car.

ME: 911 Emergency. Nachos and margaritas. Preferably in because I’m about to lose my shit.

I toss my cell in the cup holder in my car and crank the music as I drive home. My sister and mom are at speech therapy, and Ihope to be calmed down or gone before they return. I hate them seeing me in a mood.

The weeks after Jason and I broke up—or rather, once I learned the truth about him—were brutal. I’ve never seen my sister so distraught, and if it wasn’t for my worry about her, I’d still be crying in my room.

I strip out of my work clothes and change into leggings and a sports bra. It’s either get rip-roaring drunk at four o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon or burn off my rage at the gym. The cheapest one in the city is only two blocks away, so I put on my headphones and run there.

Once I check in, I see two missed texts.

ROWAN: I’m on call so I can’t partake in the margs, but I’m down for some nachos and off the ledge support.

RILEY: I can be at Row’s by six. I’ll bring the tequila.

ME: Perfect. I’ll bring the nacho fixings. See you then.

I’m too frazzled to lift weights, so I hop on a spin bike and ride until my quads are on fire and my eyes burn from sweat. By the time I’m walking back home, I’m somewhat cooled down, from the ride and from Nash fucking Humphries.

After a quick shower, I text my mom to let her know I’ll be out late then stop at the store for therapy food.

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