“Tyler,” she replied curtly.

Christian sat quietly, his eyes downcast.

“Mr. Marek, we already went over Christian’s test scores and discussed some of his homework,” I told him, handing him the documents. “You can take those home and review them in your spare time.”

I looked to Christian’s mother, careful not to make eye contact with Tyler, too afraid I would give something away.

I continued. “Christian will be given the opportunity to choose some of his assignments now,” I informed them. “It’s a technique I like to use for students I feel have earned the privilege. For unit projects and some daily assignments, he’ll be able to choose from a selection, which will all be worth the same percentage of points, providing he puts in the same excellent effort,” I explained, hearing a phone vibrate and seeing Tyler take it out and look at it.

My irritation grew, but thankfully, he put the phone down, ignoring it.

“Sounds wonderful,” Brynne agreed. “Christian, would you like that?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sounds fine.” And then he looked at me. “When do I take the test for the AP class?” he asked, seeming more interested in it than he’d been at Sucré. After some time to let it absorb, he must have grown more interested.

“Thank you for reminding me,” I burst out, taking out the permission form. “I’ll schedule you for —”

But Tyler’s phone buzzed again, interrupting my chain of thought, and I dropped the paper to the table, shooting Tyler a stern look.

“Mr. Marek, would you please turn off your phone?” I chided, not really asking.

He shoved it into his breast pocket, and I didn’t care that he looked the worse for wear. He could be present for this.

“Excuse me,” he apologized again.

Christian snorted, and I continued, explaining the class and that Christian was doing well in several subjects and might qualify for more than one advanced course. Then Tyler signed the permission slip, authorizing us to test his son, and I wrapped up any last questions they had. Tyler didn’t have any, because his head was clearly somewhere else today.

“Thank you, Ms. Reed, for joining us from so far away.” I smiled at her and tapped my folders on the table, making sure they were stacked neatly.

“Yeah, with the time difference, she still managed to be here,” Christian jabbed, shooting his father a cold look. “I’ll wait in the car.”

And he walked out.

“Tyler,” Brynne said flatly, “we’ll talk later.”

And she clicked off, no happier with Tyler Marek than their son.

I stood up and dropped the folders onto my desk, letting my anger show now that we were alone.

“You have secretaries,” I pointed out. “A calendar of appointments and meetings on your phone.” I turned around, seeing him stand and straighten his tie. “How could you forget?”

Out of all the things to be present for at school… It’s not like his presence here was required often. He couldn’t make this a priority?

“It was a simple mistake,” he explained. “There’s too much going on. I’m running around everywhere, and my head is crammed full with a million things. I’m doing the best I can.”

“For you?” I threw back. “Or for Christian?”

TWENTY-ONE

TYLER

My father’s words of advice were a constant refrain in my mind lately: You can do a couple things and succeed, or you can try to do fifteen things and fail at all of them.

I jetted down the stairs of the school, feeling my cell vibrate from my inside breast pocket and ignoring it.

Damn phone calls all day. The fucking loggers in Honduras were in the middle of a battle with the environmental activists over clear-cutting, which shouldn’t have had anything to do with me other than it was my equipment they were using to cut down the trees. Now Jay was in a fit over the guilt by association.

After that I’d been forced to a waste time having lunch with the mayor just to maintain the connection, and then I’d gotten stuck on call after call all afternoon. That was, until all hell broke loose down at the docks, when my shipment of buckets for the dozers and loaders making their way up the Mississippi for the final assembly at the factory in Minnesota turned out to be several tons of coal that wasn’t mine.

Everything that could go wrong was going wrong lately, and I didn’t know what the hell to do. My head was almost never on work anymore, and I kept dropping the ball. When I wasn’t worrying about Christian, I was thinking about Easton and when I could see her.

I’d been going over last weekend again and again in my head. Her stunt at the club and how she’d tried to push me away. I’d been enraged.

I didn’t want Kristen Meyer.

The woman was a void, like every other woman I’d come into contact with since Easton.

But I would’ve played ball if Easton had wanted it. If she’d been a part of it.

I didn’t need the excitement or the experience, but I’d enjoy it. Sure. What man wouldn’t? Especially with how hot she’d looked on the dance floor, another woman’s hands on her. However, I didn’t want to go into it without her. There was no point if she wasn’t involved. It was about us experiencing something together.

But then she’d pulled away, disconnecting herself from the scene, so that I would find pleasure in another woman and she could walk away, convincing herself that anything we had wasn’t special.

There’s no amount of red sufficient enough to explain the rage I’d felt when I reached out for her hand and found only air, then realized what she was doing.

But then she’d crawled into my lap and cried and kissed me, and Kristen had instantly disappeared.

There was nothing but Easton.

And then, later that night, when she’d told me her story and how that lowlife had victimized her, I’d wanted to erase it all from her life and make sure she had the best of everything. Happiness, love, consistency…

And then I wanted to find him and erase him. It made me sick to think of him out there, walking around. Did he know where she was?

Climbing in the back of the car, I unbuttoned my jacket and looked to Christian sitting across from me, staring out the window. “Room to Breathe” blared on the radio, and I reached over, turning it down from the controls in the back.

Leaning forward, I gave him my full attention. “I’m sorry I was late,” I told him, tired of seeing that look on his face. For every step forward we took, it was another two steps back.

“You forgot.” His sharp tone cut, his eyes still turned out the window. “You forget, because it’s not important to you.”

I sat back in my seat, hooding my eyes. “Is that what your mother tells you?”

“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly, twisting his head finally to look at me. “And then in private she tells my stepdad that you’re a shitty, self-absorbed father.”

I hardened my jaw, feeling like everything was slowly slipping through my fingers. I was losing everything.

Christian turned his head, speaking to Patrick.

“I want to walk,” he said.

Patrick met my eyes in the rearview mirror, and I hesitated, not wanting him to get out of the car.

But dealing with Christian was like climbing a rope with one arm, and I was tired. Let him cool off, and I could think.

I finally nodded.

Patrick pulled over, letting him out. It was only a few blocks to the house and it was still light out, so I didn’t worry.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as Patrick pulled away from the curb, and I closed my eyes, exasperated.

Yanking it out of my pocket, I saw Brynne’s name on the screen and squeezed the phone, hearing it creak under the pressure.

Answering it, I held it up to my ear. “I don’t need to hear it,” I shot out.

“I was sitting there on a computer screen, Tyler,” she barked. “You couldn’t be there in person for Christian? You already missed one other conference this week.”