Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“Miss…” Mr. Langford says, attention now on me.
“Monahan,” I rasp out. “Addison Monahan.”
Someone laughs in the back of the classroom, but Mr. Langford ignores them.
“Since no one else is ready to work and you’re the only one with your Chromebook out, can you read the objectives to everyone?”
My face heats and a tremble shakes its way through me. At my old school, this would have been something I could have easily done without a second thought.
Things are different now.
My confidence is gone.
“…too busy sucking dicks to learn how to speak…”
I flinch at the whispered words nearby. My skin turns impossibly hotter. Mr. Langford cuts his eyes in the direction of the nasty whisperer and gives them a warning glare.
After sucking in a deep breath and licking my lips to wet them, I begin reading off the screen. “We’ll explain the roles agriculture plays in our local communities versus a more global view.” I swallow and continue on. “Um, demonstrate safe practices while working in greenhouses, labs, and outdoor agricultural settings.” I glance up at Mr. Langford, and he nods, a small, encouraging smile on his lips. “Let’s see, uh, we’ll identify basic plant principles like propagation, nutrition, and pest management.”
“Boring,” someone mutters close by.
“Perhaps,” Mr. Langford says with a shrug, “but you still need this elective to graduate. Continue on, please.”
I continue to rattle off all the objectives, and when I finish, I’m thrilled to have everyone’s attention off me.
“Thank you, Addison. And there you have it,” Mr. Langford tells the class. “I’ll be looking for people to sign up for FFA and also the Greenhouse Club. In the resources folder, you’ll find the applications. Deadline to apply for both is at the end of this week.”
My watch vibrates and I glance down at it. Mr. Langford didn’t mention watches, but I’m sure they’re lumped in with the phones. When I see a text from Lucy, I tense up.
Lucy: We’re all so shocked and embarrassed to have been friends with you. Try not to fuck any teachers at your new school.
I grew up with Lucy. Spent the night at her house more times than I can count. Even went on a vacation with her family. We were close.
There was one weird moment that I try hard not to think about and then everything changed. She viciously turned against me.
When I look back up at my teacher, the tears in my eyes making his form blurry, he’s watching me intently. I’m busted. I grimace, fully expecting to be called out.
“All right,” Mr. Langford says, eyes dragging away from me and across the classroom. “Let’s go visit the campus greenhouse. When you’re not taking tests here in this classroom, we’ll be there. Prepare to get dirty.”
Soon, everyone will learn I already am.
Dirty.
Dirty, dirty girl.
Chapter 2
Theo
This is such a far cry from my previous CPA job, it’s almost comical. But then I remember how I came to obtain this new career at a new place in a new town.
I’m not here because I wanted to change what I did for a living.
I’m here because my ex-wife blew up our marriage and I had to escape the humiliation of what she did to me.
A fresh start is exactly what I needed.
I’ve been in town for the past couple of months, taking a much-needed vacation before school started. For a decade, I worked as an accountant and rarely missed a day. The longest I took off was for the honeymoon with Mary Ellen. It was a full week of sex, margaritas, and pool-side lounging.
God, I was such a fucking fool.
Blind to everything that woman did to me.
I’m extra rattled today, not because it’s the first day of school and my being a teacher, but because Mary Ellen sent me a text.
Bitch Ex: I’m pregnant. You’ll need to do a paternity test.
I know for a fact it’s not mine, because the timing lines up to when we rarely shared the same bed, much less were naked in it. For a while there, she walked around with a nearly curled up lip of disgust toward me. Sex between us was the last thing on either of our minds. We were barely holding a marriage together.
But this is what she does.
Toys and toys with me. Like she’s a cat and I’m a fucking mouse.
She wants to screw with my head. Make me think the baby is mine. Mary Ellen wants to dangle a carrot in front of me only to take it away.
It’s something we often fought about.
Me wanting a family. Her wanting more time.
I’m done playing her shitty games, though, which is why I screenshot the message rather than replying and sent it to my attorney. The divorce may be finalized, but I still want my ducks in a row in case she ever decides to terrorize me again.