Page 36 of Crow's Haven
Crow’s eyes catch mine again, quiet understanding passing between us. He reaches beneath the table, his fingers brushing against mine, giving a gentle squeeze. I squeeze back, grateful for the comfort even as guilt twists tighter around my heart.
Because the truth is, Chase isn’t wrong. In every way that matters, I already feel like their mother. I want to be that for them, so much it hurts. But the day my dark past comes to light, it will take this all away in an instant. I’m pretending to belong to a family I might not get to keep, and that feels dangerously close to betrayal. Crow values truth, honesty, and loyalty above all things. I can’t even predict how he’s going to respond when he finds out.
As breakfast continues, warm laughter returns to the room, the brief tension fading away. Crow catches my gaze frequently, his eyes tender and questioning, checking in, making sure I’m okay.
I nod each time, pretending everything is fine. But inside, the truth is loud and clear: I can’t keep living a lie. Somehow, soon, I have to find the courage to tell him everything. And I’ll just have to trust that the family we’re building is strong enough to survive the truth.
I look around the table. I won’t lose this without a fight. I won’t lose them without trying everything I can to keep them. I’ve finally found something worth fighting for. Worth coming clean for. Crow and his boys are worth risking everything. We get the boys out the door and Crow drops them off on his way to his newest property rehab.
***
When my phone buzzes later in the morning, I don’t expect to see the school’s number lighting up my screen. My heart sinks instantly, worried that something happened to the boys.
“Hello?” I answer quickly, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Ms. Jackson?” It’s the receptionist from the school. “We need you to come in. There’s been a bit of an incident with Scout and Chase. We tried to call their father but all we got was voicemail.”
“Are they okay?” My heart pounds, my hand gripping the phone tightly.
“They’re fine, but we’d prefer to speak with you in person.”
“I’ll be right there,” I assure her. My pulse thunders in my ears the entire drive, imagining everything from fights, to broken bones, to playground disasters. I text Crow at a red light, just a quick:
Me: Boys in trouble at school. Heading there now. I’ll update you.
When I arrive, the receptionist leads me to Ms. Fields’ classroom. Inside, I find Scout and Chase sitting side by sideon tiny plastic chairs near the teacher’s desk. Chase’s cheeks are flushed with worry, Scout frowning stubbornly, arms crossed tight. Relief washes over me to find that they’re safe and in one piece, at least.
I kneel in front of them, gentle but firm. “What happened?”
Scout looks away, embarrassed. Chase fidgets, eyes wide and apologetic. Before they can explain, Ms. Fields interrupts sharply from behind her desk.
“What happened, Ms. Jackson, is that the boys decided it was appropriate to smuggle wildlife into my classroom. We don’t tolerate that sort of misbehavior.”
I turn slowly, taken aback by her tone. She’s glaring at the boys with disproportionate anger.
“Wildlife?” I ask, trying to keep calm. “What exactly did they bring?”
“A frog,” Scout mutters softly, eyes downcast.
Chase adds timidly, “His name’s Freddy.”
My lips twitch with suppressed laughter despite the tension. A frog of all things.
Ms. Fields, however, is not amused. Her voice drips disdain. “Frogs belong outside, not contaminating my classroom. Their behavior is disruptive and inappropriate.”
I straighten, irritation prickling at her words. “I understand bringing a frog to school was inappropriate. I’ll handle it at home. But disruptive seems excessive. They’re six-year-olds. Couldn’t this be handled with a quiet conversation?”
She bristles visibly, voice sharpening. “They disrupted my lesson plan and made a mockery of my rules. Frankly, if they continue to behave like this, I question whether they belong in my class.”
Her cold dismissal ignites something fierce in me. I glance down at the boys, catching Chase’s frightened expression. Scout holds his breath, clearly waiting for my response. Their faces strengthen my resolve.
“I’d like to schedule a meeting with the principal, please,” I say firmly, holding her gaze without flinching. “Immediately.”
Ms. Fields hesitates, clearly taken aback. But she nods tightly, “I’ll call his office.”
While she steps outside, I kneel again, cupping each of the boys’ faces gently. “You’re not in big trouble,” I reassure them softly. “But no more frogs at school, okay?”
Scout nods solemnly, looking relieved. “Okay.”
