Page 30 of Home to You
She let out a small, amused huff and waved the question aside. “Not at all,” she said. “We don’t have any policies against staff dating parents. As long as it doesn’t affect your classroom or Cole’s performance, you two are free to be together. Just make sure you invite me to the wedding.”
I blinked, startled by the casual way she seemed to assume our getting married was already a done deal. I turned to Jake, and he was looking at me with a small smile playing at his lips. Heat rose in my cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment. It was something warmer. Something that felt suspiciously like hope.
The knot in my chest that had been wound so tightly since Jake and I got back together began to loosen. I’d hated keeping our relationship a secret these past few weeks, fearing what it'd mean for my job. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I’ve been so worried.”
Carol chuckled, taking a slow sip from her cocoa and tossing Jake a wink over her cup as she continued on her way, humming softly along with the music as she headed toward a table lined with raffle tickets and baked goods.
Jake leaned down, his voice a teasing murmur against the shell of my ear. “Told you so.”
I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, but I was too relieved to put any real force behind it. My legs suddenly felt unsteady, the weight of weeks of worry finally lifting from my shoulders.
“I need some air,” I said, my voice shaky.
Jake’s brow furrowed with concern, but I was already pulling him toward the doors.
Outside, the crisp evening air hit my face, and I took a deep breath, trying to process what had just happened.
“You okay, sweetheart?” He rubbed his hands up and down my biceps.
“I can’t believe that’s it,” I whispered. “No lecture, no concern about professional boundaries. Just her blessing.”
Carol’s reaction was so different from what I’d experienced at Hawthorne Prep, where, when my boss found out I was dating one of the school’s top donors, I’d been pulled aside and warned to keep my private life and personal life separate. Then, when Richard and I had divorced, I’d been shown the proverbial door. Apparently, when it came to keeping a quality teacher on staff or satisfying the whims of someone with deep pockets, that wealthy man always won out. Was it any wonder, then, that I’d been worried about what would happen here?
Jake’s hands settled on my hips, his thumbs tracing slow circles through the fabric of my sweater. “Carol’s good people, and her bosses care more about their students and teachers being happy than some archaic rules.”
I pressed my forehead against his chest, letting myself truly feel the relief for the first time. “I’ve been so scared, Jake. Scared that wanting this—wanting you—would cost me everything I've worked for. Again.”
“Hey.” He tilted my chin up, his amber eyes serious. “You’re not gonna lose anything. Not your job, and certainly not me. I promise.” The sincerity in his voice made my throat tighten with emotion.
He kissed me then, soft and sure, and I melted into him. When we broke apart, the sound of the announcer’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker, calling everyone to gather for the scarecrow contest results. “Come on,” Jake said, taking my hand. “Let’s go watch my son learn about losing graciously.”
The lights seemedto twinkle brighter as dusk fell completely, an old country western tune rising from the speakers. I turned toward the lineup of scarecrows, where Cole was practically vibrating in anticipation of the winners being announced. His eyes found mine, and he beamed, giving me an exaggerated thumbs-up.
Jake chuckled beside me, the sound low and affectionate. “He’s convinced his zombie cowboy’s a shoo-in because it’s so close to Halloween,” he explained, his voice laced with fondness and just a touch of exasperation. “I tried telling him that gluing cooked spaghetti to the scarecrow’s stomach to look like spilled guts probably wasn’t what the PTO had in mind for a fall festival, but—” he shrugged, “—you know Cole.
“He’s nothing if not committed to a theme,” I said with a smile, watching as Jake’s son bounced on his toes.
It turned out he was right to stick to his vision. Moments later, the head of the PTO announced him as the fifth-grade winner, and he bounded forward, arms raised in triumph, to accept his certificate. His hat—the one that matched his Uncle Colt’s—nearly flew off his head as he sprinted back.
He threw himself at Jake in a hug, the paper certificate crumpling in his fist. Then he turned to me and grabbed my hand without hesitation. “Come on! We have to go take apicture!” he said breathlessly, tugging us toward the scarecrow display.
Jake followed, sliding a hand onto Cole’s shoulder, while I hesitated for half a second. Cole seemed to sense it, his brows furrowing for just a moment. Then he looked up at me with that same beaming smile and added, “You too, Miss … Eden!”
At school, it was vital that I was still Miss James to him. That type of structure mattered. But this was Cole’s home—his family’s barn. At home, he was free to use my name.
“Eden’s just fine out here,” I said, brushing a hand over his shoulder.
He nodded once and tugged me into place. Cole stood between Jake and me, holding his certificate proudly, and just as the camera clicked, he leaned his head against my side. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until the flash went off.
The moment felt delicate and perfect, like something I’d want to press between the pages of a book and keep forever. It meant more than I could say that Cole had pulled me into the picture like I belonged there. I would never try to replace his mother. But maybe, in time, I could be something else to him. Maybe, just maybe, we could be a family.
As soon as the photo was taken, he bounded away. “I have to go find Uncle Gage!” he shouted over his shoulder, already disappearing into the crowd.
I blinked after him. “What was that about?”
Jake shook his head, smiling. “Gage told him he’d give him twenty bucks if he actually won. Said there was no way the PTO would vote for zombie intestines. Cole’s been calling it ‘easy money’ all week.”
I laughed. “Sounds like Gage underestimated how committed your son is to his craft.”
