Page 28 of The Teacher of Nothing
She flinches at my words. Barely. Almost imperceptible. Then, she straightens her spine and points a manicured finger toward my bedroom. “You live in the house with a teenage boy. Learn to lock your door at night.”
“Mom…”
“I can’t afford for you to ruin my marriage. Not now.”
I shake my head in confusion, tears racing down my cheeks. Unable to face her any longer, I turn on my heel and run to my bedroom. Slamming the door shut, I make sure to throw the lock, that Levi no doubt can pick, and then push my nightstandin front of it. I toss my backpack to the floor and fall face first onto the bed.
I’m eighteen now.
I should just pack my stuff and leave.
It’s silent and dark when I wake, but when I check my phone, I realize it’s only seven. Mom and Darren must be at their gala and Levi, if home, is being quiet. I take a quick shower, ignore my grumbling stomach, and crawl back into bed.
I have many missed texts from Callum.
Callum: Willa, we can talk about this.
Two missed calls follow that text.
Callum: I get that you’re upset with me, but don’t ignore me. We were having a discussion.
Another missed call.
Callum: Let me know that you’re okay. Please.
His concern makes me physically ache. My mom doesn’t care, but Callum does. Even if he doesn’t want to let our feelings take us somewhere together, he still cares about my well-being. I finally text him back.
Me: I’m okay.
Callum: Thank fuck.
Me: Sorry I left you hanging. I had a fight with my mom.
The phone starts ringing, but it’s Callum calling me on FaceTime. I panic for a second, knowing he’ll see me look like a pathetic mess. With a sigh, I answer it anyway. I need to hear his voice. He’ll have to get over my messy, wet hair and bloodshot eyes.
I mash the accept button and then his handsome face fills the screen. “Hi.”
His brows crash together. “You’ve been crying.”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard, looking away from his penetrating stare. “It’s been a rough day.”
“Is that why you’re in bed so early?”
“I had to get away from her—from them.” A humorless laugh escapes me. “She actually said I need to remember to lock my door.”
The line goes silent.
“I lock it, Callum. I do. He obviously gets in anyway.” Hysteria crawls up my throat. “The best I can do now is block the door with my nightstand.”
He growls. My sexy teacher growls like he’s a mountain lion or a bear or a rabid wolf.
“Your home is supposed to be safe,” he bites out, fury crackling through the line. “You shouldn’t have to barricade your door.”
“I have no choice.”
“Have you been locked away in your room since you got home from school?”
“Yep,” I say with a nod.
