Jack, Tyler, and Jay all stood off to the side, observing and being here to support me. Jack knew I was apprehensive about being in front of a camera again, while Tyler and Jay were here to make sure I wasn’t messed with.

“I enjoy my methods,” I explained, “and I believe they work. But do I feel confident enough to teach other teachers?” I asked hypothetically. “No, not with only a few months’ teaching experience. I think a teacher’s place is in the classroom, and that’s where I’ll stay.”

Tyler grinned, and Jay shot me a thumbs-up.

“So you’re not taking any time off to help Tyler Marek with his campaign?” she queried.

But Jay stepped in, shaking his head. “This interview is about her —”

“It’s fine.” I held my hand up and met Ms. DeWinter’s eyes again. “I will absolutely help Mr. Marek in any way I can,” I assured her. “Even if it means stuffing envelopes. But he understands that I’ve made a commitment to my class and to Braddock Autenberry. If there’s one thing I love…” I suddenly stopped, feeling like I shouldn’t have given that away.

But then I started again, committing to it. “If there’s one thing I love about him, it’s that he’s just like me. We’re devoted to our promises.”

She smiled, accepting that answer, and Jay winked at me as if to say, Good job.

I rolled my eyes, his praise making me feel like I was an act in a circus.

After the news truck left and the school had emptied of teachers and nearly all the staff, Tyler led me over to his car and opened the back door, digging out a bouquet of white orchids.

“I’m sure you’ve received lots of flowers in your short years” – he paused, handing them to me – “but I’ve never given them, so…”

I looked at the abundance of white flowers, their curved petals so soft and fragile-looking. I had received lots of flowers over my tennis career, from my parents and from fans, but I loved these the most.

I was even glad they weren’t roses. I would’ve loved anything he gave me, but I’d definitely seen enough roses.

I peered up at him, cradling the bouquet like a baby. “You’ve never given flowers?” I teased.

“I’ve sent them,” he rushed out, quick to clarify. “But I’ve never…”

He trailed off, laughing at himself, and I broke out in a smile, thinking that it sounded like him. Of course Tyler Marek hadn’t taken the time to give flowers.

Until me.

He stepped up, a heated look entering his eyes as he pinched my chin. “I wanted to see the look on your face,” he whispered.

I leaned in, grazing his lips. “Well, I love them.”

“You should,” he shot out. “Orchids are temperamental. Just like you.”

I pushed him away, shoving the flowers to his chest as he laughed.

“Let me go get my things,” I told him, unable to keep the smile from my face as I shook my head. “I want you to come to my apartment before dinner. There’s something I need to show you.”

I spun around and headed up the stairs, back into the school. We were taking Christian to dinner, but I needed to take care of one more thing before I moved on.

Even though there was still the unresolved issue of someone being in my apartment, I wasn’t going to waste one more minute of my life being scared. I wouldn’t move. I wouldn’t sleep with the lights on.

And I wouldn’t run to Tyler for protection.

I’d lock my doors, be aware of my surroundings, and never let anyone hold me hostage again.

If someone wanted to hurt me, they would find a way.

But what I really needed to do was get rid of the letters. And I wanted Tyler there when I did it.

Walking down the dim hallway, I veered right and slipped into my dark classroom, going straight for my wardrobe to retrieve my handbag and then to my desk for the folder of papers I needed to grade tonight.

But I glanced up and jumped, surprised.

“Jack?” I gasped, seeing my brother in the back of the classroom with his arms folded and staring out the window.

I’d thought he’d left.

Putting my stuff down, I slowly rounded my desk, watching him. “Jack, what are you doing here?” I asked.

He didn’t move, only stared out the window, looking deep in thought.

“The cameras still follow you around,” he mused. “Even now.”

What?

And then I remembered the interview he’d been here for earlier and how strange it was to be back in front of a camera again.

I studied Jack, but it was already growing dark outside and there was no light in the classroom. I couldn’t make out his face.

I inched toward him, shrugging. “I don’t mind it so much anymore,” I confessed. “It was to help the school.”

But then he turned his face toward me, and I saw pain written all over his expression.

“Dad loved baseball.” He spoke in a sad voice. “I was the oldest. Why didn’t he name me Easton?” he challenged. “Or any name related to the sport for that matter?”

I narrowed my eyes, half confused about why he was talking about this now and half wondering where it was leading.

Our father had named me after the Easton baseball bat. I never told people that, because I found it embarrassing, but Jack was right. Our father loved the game.

He even wanted me to play when he started noticing I had a penchant for sports, but my mother thought tennis was close enough and had a wider range of opportunities for a woman. Instead of swinging a bat, I swung a racket.

“Well, at least you got to play baseball,” I told him.

He shook his head and turned his gaze back out the window.

“I got that job at Greystone because of you,” he bit out. “Marek put in a word for me. A perk when your sister sleeps with powerful people, I guess.”

My heart began racing, and I froze. “Jack, what’s wrong with you?”

My brother never said things like that to me. Plus, he looked like he hated me right now.

He turned, locking eyes with me. “I was happy,” he told me. “When Chase Stiles drove you inward, started messing with your game…” he explained. “I was happy about that, Easton.”

I felt my stomach roll, and I backed away.

“I hated seeing you hurt,” he choked out, tears caught in his throat, “but I loved seeing your career go to hell,” he admitted.

His face grew hard, and his eyes pierced me. “I loved seeing our parents lose their grip on you as you got more and more defiant,” he bit out. “I loved seeing you fail.”

“Jack.” I could barely breathe.

I shook my head, trying to take short breaths, but barely any air was getting in.

He stepped forward. “I love you,” he professed. “I do, and I want good things for you, but, God, Easton,” he gritted out, tears pooling in his eyes. “I hated you, too.”

I let my eyes fall to the ground. What the hell was going on? in Jack had always supported me. Always tried to protect me.

I thought he was okay. I thought the amount of attention I got or the fact that our parents treated me just a little bit better was something he’d moved past.

But deep down it was still there. I couldn’t believe he’d never let on about any of this to me before.

I closed my eyes, feeling weary. “I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it. If I were in his shoes, I’d no doubt have a lot of resentment, too.

He sniffled, evening out his expression. “It’s not your fault,” he maintained. “It never was. You didn’t make our parents favor you. You didn’t excel at tennis out of spite.” And then he spoke slowly. “You’re a winner, Easton. Everything I want to be.”

I moved to go to him, but he backed up.

“It was me,” he shot out.

“What was you?” I breathed out.

“The cabinets, the calls, the treasure box – it was all me,” he confessed.

What?

Rage curled my fingers into fists. He’d opened all of the cabinets, the shower curtain, been in my closet, opened my window, and smashed the box, tearing up all of the letters.

“Why?” I cried. “I don’t understand.”