Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“No. He went for ice cream with his grandfather.”
Shane’s low chuckle reassures me somewhat. “If he’s up for ice cream, he must not be in too much pain. I’m sure they numbed the area first.”
Tears begin to fall from my eyes unexpectedly, and Shane swears, then pulls me into his arms. “Shhh. He’s fine. You’re just upset because you weren’t there for him.”
“How did you know that?” I ask.
“Because I know you.” He slides his fingers through my hair, and I let my emotions free, sniffling into his white dress shirt beneath his jacket. I like that he always dresses for class, taking even summer session oh so seriously. My professor, I muse, my thought taking me off guard.
Mine.
I want him to be mine, because in the short time I’ve known him, I’ve fallen in love with everything that is Shane Warden. But I’m not ready to tell him. Not while we are still in professor-student limbo.
“You okay now?” he asks.
I nod, wanting another minute in his safe, secure arms.
That is my mistake.
“I knew it.” Dan stands by the last row of seats, his phone in his hand, aimed at us. “I knew you didn’t raise your grades on your own.”
“What the hell?” Shane, who has already separated himself from me, strides up the aisle toward the smug punk. “What are you doing?” he asks him.
“Proving what I suspected. That she fucked her way to a passing grade.”
“But… No. I didn’t! I had a tutor. I—”
Shane holds up a hand, cutting her off. “Don’t bother arguing with him,” he says in that authoritative voice I remember from the first day of class. “I’ll deal with this. Amber, you can leave.”
I blink but the tears fall anyway, the entire emotion of the last few minutes catching up with me … along with the fear that Dan’s accusation could cost me everything.
* * *
Amber
I pace back and forth in my house. It is the not knowing how Shane is handling Dan that both concerns and frightens me. I came home from the incident shaken, but L.J. FaceTimed me almost as soon as I walked in the door, so I had no choice but to put on a bright smile and talk to my son.
Instead of expressing pain or being upset, L.J. was eager to show me his stitches. He had ice cream stains on his face, and he was chatty as ever, allowing me to breathe, at least about him. I duly lecture him about the dangers of running with scissors and not listening to his grandparents but figure he’s been punished enough by the hospital experience. I have no doubt the stitches and numbing hurt him badly. I wince at the thought but force deep breaths into my lungs. He is fine.
Is Shane?
This is his worst nightmare, the one thing he went out of his way to avoid happening … and I caused it. I remained in his arms despite the risk. I let us get caught by someone who clearly has issues either with me or anyone he feels threatened by, though why he targeted me makes no sense.
I rub my hands over my arms and try to concentrate on studying for tomorrow’s test while I wait to hear from Shane. It isn’t easy … and he never calls.
He does return my text with a generic answer.
Don’t worry. I have it handled. Will talk to you after the test. Good luck.
Handled how? Don’t worry why? What is going on? The not knowing is killing me, but I understand he wants me to focus on the exam, and I need to do just that. Unfortunately I toss and turn all night.
The next morning, I drag myself to the test, tired, cranky, and concerned about how I’ll handle the exam on little sleep and the worry clawing inside me.
Did he get in trouble and does he blame me? Is that why he is waiting to talk to me until after the test? I walk into the lecture hall expecting to see Shane. Although I know he wants the teaching assistant to proctor the exam, I thought he’d at least speak to the class first or wish us luck.
His absence makes it even more difficult to concentrate, but I know how much rides on my passing. Every higher-level class in business requires this entry-level course first. I want to set a positive example for L.J., want to prove to Landon, Jason, and Tanner that their faith in me is well placed. That lending me money for school wasn’t a mistake.
Across the room, Dan glares at me, and I don’t know what to make of his attitude. He has the upper hand, after all. He could report Shane to the dean and… no. I can’t think about that now. Later. Later I’ll see what happened.