“You know what?”
“About you two.”
My fingers flex on the desk. They jerk.
Even though there’s no accusation in her tone, which surprises me. It’s very matter of fact.
“It’s plain to see,” she continues.
Well, that’s fucking great, isn’t it?
She knows.
She knows why I came here and what I’ve been doing to her all this time.
For the record I want to say that tonight, it was supposed to be just a goodbye.
No baths, no kisses, definitely no risky, unprotected fucks.
My brain fucking shuts down at the thought. My brain can’t even comprehend the level of fucked-upness that was.
I knew what she was doing. I knew it.
And still for a second, for a microsecond, I wanted to come inside her. I wanted to give her my seed, breed her, trap her here. With me, under me. So she never ever leaves.
Jesus Christ.
I can’t even think about it right now.
Not when I’ve got so much work to do.
Not when Mo is still standing here, watching me as if she wants me to say something. As if she wants me to confess all my crimes.
“I want you to know I struggled with this,” Mo says when I hold my silence. “With things between you two. Not only because of your relationship to each other and the age difference but also because of how you were with her. In the beginning. But then I saw you. I saw that you’d changed these past couple of weeks. Every time you’d call, your voice would be so… different. So light. You’d laugh more. You’d chuckle and be more playful. And it’s something I’ve always wanted for you. To be happy.”
At this, I hear her voice.
Mo loves you…
It’s not something that I’ve ever thought about. Or rather it’s not something that I’ve dared to think about but maybe…
“And then every time Poe called,” she continues, breaking my thoughts thankfully; I don’t have time to think about love right now. “From her school. She’d sound so carefree and so happy, you know? It’s something I’ve always wanted for her as well. And she wouldn’t stop talking about you. How good you are. How you make her feel. How she’s always sketching these days, making dresses, organizing her party at school. Yeah, it’s plain to see. That she loves you.”
At this, my fingers clench and I crumple the papers I was reading. “She doesn’t know what love is.”
A glint of satisfaction shines in her eyes. “So she told you.”
I refuse to dignify that with a response.
But she isn’t deterred, of course. “Good for her. I’m proud of her.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I snap at her. “She’s my ward.”
“I know. I told you I struggled with this. But she’s eighteen now.” She shrugs. “Old enough to make her own decisions.”
“Doesn’t fucking matter. She’s still my ward and I’m still responsible for her.”
“I know people would see it that way. It’s not an ideal situation.”
“No, it’s not.” I crumple the paper even more. “And I’m her fucking principal.”
“But that’s only for another week. Besides, this was a temporary job.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s still my job.”
“You don’t even like it.”
I straighten up then, my hands fisted at my sides. “Are you done?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Because I’d like to know if you do too. Do you love her?”
I’m clenching my hands so tightly that my knuckles are cracking, throbbing. “Get out.”
“Do you?”
“Get the fuck out, Mo.”
She studies me for a few moments, her eyes scrutinizing and clear. Making me feel uncomfortable. As if I’m being analyzed. And I’m about to snap at her again when she speaks. “Because he does.”
What the fuck?
Who?
“If you’re talking about Jimmy, I swear to God, Mo, this will be his last day on Earth.”
A small smile flickers on her lips before it vanishes and she shakes her head. “Not him, no. The old Alaric.”
“What?”
“I might lose my job for this,” she says, completely unbothered. “But I’ve decided it’s worth it. Besides, I’m ready to retire. My knees are not what they used to be. So I’m going to say this.”
“Say what?”
“I know you don’t like to talk about him, the old Alaric,” she says. “You probably don’t even like to think about him either. I mean, look at you now. You don’t even resemble him. And I know you think he was weak and a coward and —”
“He was weak and a coward,” I snap out.
I can’t believe we’re talking about this.
I can’t fucking believe that on top of everything else, now we have to talk about old fucking Alaric.
How did we even get to this?
“He was a kid,” she says.
“Yes, whom other kids picked on. Whom his own father picked on.”
More than picked on.
I don’t remember the first time my father hit me, but I can’t remember a time when he didn’t.
When he didn’t look at me with disgust. Anger. Hatred.