Teacher (Voyeur #6) - Fiona Cole Page 0,83

but a mistake right then. The hurt that had colored her tone when she told me to leave was one I’d never forget.

I dragged my hand through my hair and tugged at the strands. “It’s…complicated.”

“Daniel is in a complicated relationship,” Jackson said incredulously. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“And with Hanna. That’s Erik’s little sister, right?” Jake asked.

Jackson whistled. “I don’t know him well, but he looks like a scary motherfucker.”

“So, are you dating?” Jake asked.

“Or just fucking? Because you don’t even fuck women more than a few times,” Jackson added.

“How serious are things?”

“How long has it been going on?”

“Does she know you care about her?”

“Oh my god, did you talk about feelings with her?”

“Does she care about you?”

“Does Erik know?”

“Does Ian know? He’s like a surrogate big brother.”

They volleyed questions back and forth, and I did my best to field them, but each one added more and more weight to my chest.

Through it all, Kent remained silent, studying my every reaction. When Kent stopped joking, things were serious. The way he watched me let me know maybe I wasn’t hiding my growing anxiety as well as I hoped.

The interrogation continued for another thirty minutes until they finally gave up and headed home. The sigh of relief was short-lived because as soon as my ball was back in my bag, Kent laid a hand on my shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” I knew he was waiting for me to meet his eyes, but I couldn’t. Then I’d be forced to acknowledge the lie. “I’m going to head home. Thanks for bowling.”

I bolted before he could stop me. Instead of another night staring at the blank TV, I headed to Voyeur.

“Hey, Daniel,” a soft voice cooed behind me. I barely turned my head to watch her perch on the stool next to me, but I saw the black hair and recognized the husky tone. Cassandra. We’d hooked up a few times on and off if we were at Voyeur at the same time, but I’d been pretty absent over the last months, hiding away in my office, thinking of Hanna. “You look like you could use some company.”

My body wanted to curl into itself, not at all able to think about touching anyone other than Hanna. Not that Hanna would ever let me touch her again. Maybe I should take Cassandra up on her offer. Go ahead and move on to one-night-stands and nothingness.

“No,” Kent’s deep voice answered for me, leaving no room for argument. I cringed, knowing my relief at avoiding him at the bowling alley had all been false hope. I should have known he’d come for me.

Cassandra shrugged and left, only to be replaced by Kent. He made himself comfortable on the stool and signaled for a drink. I groaned, knowing my feeling bad for myself in silence was coming to a screeching halt.

He was kind enough to at least wait until he had a drink before laying into me. “What has you looking like a sad fucking sap?”

“Fuck off,” I grumbled. I wanted to talk even less now than I had earlier.

“Calm down, pissy panties.”

“Fuck. Off,” I repeated.

“Okay,” he said like he was talking to a child. “I’ll finish my drink while you calm down and tell me what happened.”

My head dropped between my shoulders with a heavy exhale. Unable to look up and meet his dark gaze I knew was currently penetrating the side of my skull, I muttered toward the bar top. “She told me she loved me.”

One second. Two. Three. Four.

“And?”

And? Fucking and?

What the hell did he mean, and?

My head shot up, and I glared. He was supposed to know me better than anyone. He knew I didn’t do love, and yet, here he sat, asking me and. “And, I fucking froze.”

The confusion marring his face slowly softened in understanding, and I hated it because under the understanding was concern, worry, and maybe even pity. The pity had me pulling my shoulders back and clenching my jaw.

“D…”

“Don’t fucking look at me like that, Alexander. Don’t fucking pity me like I’m some poor baby that needs to be handled with kid gloves.”

“I’m not pitying you, asshole. I’m trying to understand how I missed something from twenty years ago has such a tight hold on you still.”

“The last person that said they loved me killed herself. It’s not exactly something you let go of. It stays with you like a mark you can’t ever get rid of. It had a big enough impact that I never wanted to