Words Left Unsaid (Love Hurts 3)

auses, her fingers circling the edge of the table. “They see teaching in much the same way as your dad—a waste of time. For me not to be able to get the principal role at the school I’ve been working at for the last five years…” She laughs. “Well, you can imagine how that went down. I can’t have a conversation with them without it turning into a lecture about how I’m wasting my life.”

“And how do you see what you do?” I ask.

She looks up, surprised by my question. “I love what I do. I love working with kids and helping shape them into who they want to be. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

“For me, it’s all about helping the kids, but not from a teaching perspective. I couldn’t handle that. I’m all about the planning and administration side of things. If you had gotten this role, do you think you would’ve enjoyed it?” I ask.

“Maybe not. I’d miss the kids…” She sighs. “I’m just sick of feeling like I’m not good enough.” Her eyes catch mine, and she hesitates. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a cow, Max. I’ve done nothing but make things harder for you since you’ve started here. The truth is I’m jealous of how well you’ve slotted into the role.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve slotted in well,” I respond truthfully. “Most of the time I question everything and wonder what the hell I’m doing.”

“Well, you have me fooled. You seem so confident. I hate that about you.”

I laugh and sit back in my seat.

“Because the moment people can sniff out your fear, they have something over you. Focus on what you want, Kelly. Fuck your parents and everyone else. Teach. Enjoy what you do and stop trying to live up to their expectations. You’ll be a lot happier.”

She smiles, wiping her eyes.

“Thanks for this, Max. Honestly, you were the last person I would’ve picked to make me feel better.”

I give her a wink and stand up, taking my coffee with me. I sigh, the relief I feel having sorted things out with Kelly huge.

Now, if I could only convince myself that I’m doing a good job.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kiara

My phone rings. I look at the number. Heather. My heart pounds faster as I press answer. Has she finally come to her senses and given up on this stupid idea of looking after Aiden?

“Hello,” I say, my voice calm. I vow not to have an argument—unless she starts one first.

“Kiara, it’s Aiden.”

A chill races down my spine. Her voice shakes, and I can tell she’s been crying. This isn’t good.

“What is it? Is he okay?” I ask. I’m already grabbing my keys and my purse. I remember Tilly is sitting in her bedroom, playing with her dolls, and my heart sinks. If something is wrong, do I take her in to see him? “Heather, what is it?” I repeat, needing answers.

“He’s back in the hospital, and his condition has deteriorated. They’re not sure he’s going to make it through the night. They think he had a stroke, but they’re still doing tests.”

Oh God.

“I . . . I’ll come right in,” I mumble. Hanging up, I call Ellie.

“Aiden isn’t well. Heather just called me, and they don’t think he’s going to make it,” I whisper. Sitting down in a chair, I rub my head. I should’ve made more of an effort to see him during these past few weeks. Whatever differences Heather and I have, they aren’t his fault. What if I’m too late?

“God, Kee, are you okay? Are you going to see him now?”

“Will you come with me?” I ask. My voice trembles as I push the words out. Truth is, I’m scared to go alone and the only other person I’d want there with me, I couldn’t ask.

“Of course,” she says. “Sit tight. I’m on my way over.”

I place the phone on the table and try to think. As much as I don’t want Tilly to remember her dad hooked up to tubes, I can’t deny her seeing him before he . . .

I swallow, unable to even think those words.

Picking up my phone, I start texting Max. Halfway through, I delete the message. What am I supposed to write? That I’m a mess because the first love of my life is slipping away? Or that I feel guilty because of my feelings for Max?