Page 113 of The Teacher of Nothing
He’s taunting him. Or provoking him. I’m not sure which. It should irritate me that I’m being used in this performance, but it doesn’t. Callum’s father did him dirty and Callum still carries the pain from the betrayal. If I can help Callum stick it to his father in any way possible, I absolutely will.
“Dad,” Callum rumbles, arrogance dripping from his words. “Meet my girl, Willa. Willa, this is my father, Nathan.”
Girl. Not woman. I notice his word choice as another stab at his father, so I don’t take offense.
“Kind of young, don’t you think?”
Dempsey snorts, earning a sharp look from Gemma. Spencer smirks, clearly entertained by the turn of conversation.
“What can I say,” Callum says, chuckling in a dark tone. “Like father, like son.”
Nathan’s nostrils flare. He avoids his son’s stare and instead sweeps a dismissive look over me. “Tell me she’s not a student.”
“He’s my statistics teacher,” I state, batting my lashes at him. “We met in class.”
Spencer smothers a laugh and Hugo shakes his head. Gemma’s eyes are wide with shock.
“Callum,” Nathan growls. “Do you have any idea how this will look when word gets out?”
Callum drops a kiss to the top of my head. “Hmm. I suppose it will be rather humiliating to our family. It feels kind of familiar, though. Tell me, Dad, how did you handle it when the whole town shamed you for fucking a teenager?”
Nathan’s features harden and his cheeks turn crimson. “That’s enough, Son.”
“At least she’s legal, right? That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about, unlike you.”
“Are you doing this to punish me?” Nathan seethes. “For…” He can’t even finish the sentence.For stealing your underage girlfriend all those years ago.
“Not everything’s about you, Dad. I assure you. This thing between me and Willa is far from anything that has to do with you.”
“You’ll lose your precious teaching job. You’ve fought your entire adult life against me to keep that job that pays you pennies. Are you really ready to give up your calling for a child?”
I bristle and level Nathan with a glare. “I’m not a child.” His words curdle, though, still stinking long after he’s spoken them.
Callum says losing his job is fine. He doesn’t care. Still, the guilt is a smack of reality, punishing me.
“I’ll manage,” Callum says, shrugging. “I always do.”
There’s a quiet standoff where neither man speaks. The rest of the family, including myself, wait out the awkwardness while biting our tongues. Finally, Nathan huffs and waves a hand in the air.
“Sit. Jamie’s prepared a delicious meal. We can deal with these matters another time.” Nathan walks over to the head of the massive table and takes a seat. “Hugo, did you ever meet with the city planner?”
Just like that, the awkward conversation is over.
Callum relaxes, which, in turn, makes my muscles loosen. He guides me over to a chair, pulls the seat out, and then pushes me closer to the table once I’ve sat down. Gemma plops down beside me and leans in.
“Told you it’d be awkward as fuck.” She squeezes my thigh. “You’re doing great. I’m glad you’re here.”
Dinner isn’t as bad as I feared. Now that Nathan is essentially ignoring the big elephant in the room, the conversation becomes friendly and everyone sort of talks all at once. I may not like Nathan very much, but I hope eventually the tension between him and Callum can subside.
I’m lost in the chatter when a coldness settles over me. All the hairs on my arms stand on end. I quickly glance at everyone seated at the table, but no one else seems to notice anything amiss. Eyes bore into the back of my head. A shudder passes through me.
What the hell is going on?
I turn my head, looking over my shoulder. Standing, like a statue, in black jeans and black hoodie that covers his head and shadows his face, is a massive man. I thought Callum was big, but this guy is a giant. His shoulders are broad and muscular.With a frame like his, he could probably tackle any dude in the NFL with ease. Who is this guy and why is no one concerned?
“Jude,” Callum murmurs. “He’s…just don’t pay any attention to him. He doesn’t like it.”
The man in question, Jude, stalks forward. I tense up, unable to move. It’s not like he’d hurt me, but the intensity rolling from him is palpable. It’s like an incoming storm—powerful and vengeful, capable of extensive damage. He makes it to the other side of the table where an empty chair sits across from me. Tattooed fingers curl over the back of the chair and he drags it back. I watch in part terror part awe as he settles his huge frame in the chair that’s far too small for him. Still, I can’t see his face due to the hood.
