Hey, Mister Marshall (St. Mary's Rebels 4) - Page 160

And when our first one lasted for three weeks.

For the duration of this fever-like relationship.

It’s a tragedy that I was so stupid for so long that I didn’t realize.

I didn’t realize that the man who’s standing in front of me still as a statue, as a rock, so beautiful and strong and yet so fragile in a lot of ways, watching me as if I’ve destroyed his world, is the man I love.

But most of all, I didn’t realize that the day I finally understand it will also be our last.

“Are you leaving again?”

At Mo’s voice, I look up from my desk, where I’m collecting all the documents and files I’m going to need for the upcoming meetings in California.

“Yeah, my flight isn’t until later in the day but I’m hoping to catch something on standby,” I say distractedly, not willing to lose my focus and mess up the files again.

Once was enough.

Once was all I could handle.

I can’t afford to make any mistakes. Not on this project. Something so close and important to my family.

That’s why I’ve decided to stay in California for a few more days to get everything settled and neatly wrapped up.

“But you just came back. I thought —”

I throw her a sharp glance, still busy collecting all the papers. “Yes. But now I’m going back.”

Mo looks at me steadily. “So why did you come back?”

My body going alert, I glance down at the file that I’ve been flicking through. “Because I needed to do something here. Now if you —”

“What did you need to do?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Must be very important if you flew all the way back for it. I mean, it’s a six-hour flight and —”

I snap the file shut and look up again. “What the fuck do you want?”

She doesn’t flinch at my tone as she says, “I want you to tell me why you came back.”

Leaning, I put both my palms on the desk, fingers splayed wide, as I reply slowly, “It’s none. Of your fucking. Business.”

“For her.” She nods, again without flinching or hesitating. “You came back for her.”

I freeze at her words.

No, that’s not true.

I don’t freeze. I combust.

I erupt into flames.

Fire licks at my skin and rushes through my veins.

I love you…

Damn it.

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

I had just shoved her voice out of my head. I’d just gotten enough control to get back to my work.

And it fucking took me two hours. It fucking took me more than two hours.

To get my head, my body that wouldn’t stop shaking, under control. To get my thoughts under control. To get this urge to go back up to her room — which she went to after dropping the love bomb on me — and demand that she take it back.

Demand that she explain herself.

What the fucking — what the fucking fuck — was she thinking?

First, she’s too young to know what love is. Second, she loves me.

Me?

And yes, I came back for her, all right?

I did.

I came back so I could say goodbye.

So I could end this, whatever it is that we’ve got going on. Whatever it is that’s messing with my head.

It’s too hectic of a time in my life to be indulging in something like this.

This is exactly what they’ve all been waiting for, haven’t they, ever since I came back and took this job. The board members.

This is exactly what they wanted, for me to fuck up. For me to make one mistake, however small, so they could all be proven right.

And on top of all that, it’s plain wrong.

This thing between us.

She’s my ward, my student. And it’s fucking wrong how I have her sneak out of her dorm every night. Especially after that fucking bed check rule that I didn’t even want to implement but did because I felt like I needed to hold onto my control. I needed to hold onto my responsibilities. So I let her take risks for me, break rules for me when I’ve punished her for doing the same for that fuckface that she doesn’t even love. That’s the only good news in this clusterfuck of a situation.

And then there’s the way I pounce on her. How I devour her, eat her up without stopping. Without ever getting satisfied.

I knew this was a bad idea since the beginning.

But I got too weak — something I promised myself I never would be. And then I got so out of control — another thing I promised I wouldn’t ever be — that I screwed up something so important.

So yeah, I came back to wake us up from this crazy dream and say goodbye.

“If you know,” I manage to say after a few beats, “then why are you asking?”

She sighs, still watching me. “I guess that’s my bad. I probably should’ve started by saying that I know.”

Tags: Saffron A. Kent St. Mary's Rebels Romance
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