The Inmate (9)

“That’s great!” I clap my hands together. “Chelsea is picking me up at a quarter after seven. We’ll swing by to get you after.”

Tim could not possibly look less excited about this. “Fine.”

Tim thinks the whole thing is a mistake, but he’s wrong. He’s going to have a great time tonight, and I’ll prove to him that Shane is a good guy. And I’ll tell Chelsea to bring along a girl for him as well. After all, may as well show him a good time.





Chapter 5


PRESENT DAY




If it were socially acceptable, Josh would hide between my legs.

But he’s ten years old, so instead, he is standing close to me, his fingers clinging to my shirt sleeve, still reluctant to join the crowd of kids who will be in his fifth-grade class. His teacher, Mrs. Conway, shoots me a sympathetic look. She seems nice enough—a seasoned teacher in her forties who looks like she’s skilled at keeping the class in line. She wasn’t around when I was a student at the school, but I suspect she must have started soon after.

“He’ll be fine, Ms. Sullivan,” she assures me. “I promise I’ll keep a close eye on him.”

“Thank you,” I say.

It doesn’t escape me that she called me Ms. Sullivan rather than Mrs. Sullivan. Does she know I’m a single parent? Does she know Josh doesn’t have a father in the picture? Does she know the whole sordid story? People do talk in towns like this, even though my parents did everything they could to conceal my pregnancy.

And if she knows, then maybe all the other parents know. And then the kids will know. And then the name-calling will start all over again.

No, I’m being paranoid. Josh will be fine.

The excited buzz of children is interrupted by the shrill sound of a bell ringing through the air. The first day of school has officially begun. It takes all my self-restraint to keep from crushing Josh in an embarrassing bear hug. He’s a bit small for his age, just up to the level of my shoulder, and he still sometimes seems painfully young. Too young to face something scary like a classroom of strangers who all know each other from the last five years of school.

“Good luck,” I whisper in his ear. “Remember—everyone likes the cool new kid.”

Josh’s chin trembles slightly—he’s trying not to cry. When he was two, he used to unabashedly bawl his eyes out, but it’s even more painful to watch him as a big kid, struggling to hold back those tears. I plant a kiss on the top of his head and give his back a gentle push. He walks off to follow his classmates into the school like he’s being led to his execution.

He’s going to be fine. The other children will love him, even if he was born out of wedlock. It was absolutely the right decision to move here.

Keep telling yourself that, Brooke.

I watch until Josh’s green backpack is no longer visible. I would love to plant myself outside his classroom so I could be available if he needs me during the day. But I couldn’t do that when he was in kindergarten, and it certainly is not acceptable now. I’m just going to trust that everything will be okay. He’ll get through this.

“Brooke? Brooke Sullivan?”

My jaw tightens at the sound of my name. The worst thing about moving back to the town where I grew up is that people occasionally recognize me. Thankfully, it’s a big enough town that it doesn’t happen too often, but I suppose I should expect it when I’m standing in front of the elementary school that I attended back when I was Josh’s age.

I turn to greet the teacher who recognized me. But before I can say hello, my mouth falls open.

“Tim?” I manage.

It’s Tim. Tim Reese. Who lived down the block from me during my entire childhood. My best friend.

Well, until I left town without saying a word to him about it.

“Brooke!” His face lights up. “It’s really you!”

As Tim sprints across the grass surrounding the school, I get a better look at him. And… well, wow. When we were little, Tim was a cute kid. Lots of freckles and a smile that made all the adults love him. And then near the end of high school, he shot up six inches practically overnight, and he became a little less cute and a little more handsome, but still too skinny and gangly. But now he’s filled in completely, gained the weight he needed and some muscle on top of that. The freckles are long gone.

Tim Reese is hot.

I self-consciously run a hand over my dark hair, which I pulled back into a messy ponytail before I left the house. I’m also wearing an oversized T-shirt and yoga pants. This is not what I would have liked to be wearing to run into Tim Reese for the first time in ten years. But it is what it is.

“Hey,” he says when he gets closer to me. “This is so wild. I saw you across the lawn, and I was thinking to myself, ‘That can’t be Brooke Sullivan. I’m imagining things.’ But it’s you. It’s really you.”

“It’s me,” I say stiffly.

He grins. “I can see that.”

And then we just stand there awkwardly. Well, I’m feeling awkward. Tim can’t seem to stop smiling. I don’t get what he’s so happy about, and it’s irking me.

“So.” I scratch at my elbow. “Are you a teacher here or…?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, which always reminded me of the color of a maple tree. “Well, actually, I’m the assistant principal.”