“If he must.”
Tristan’s and my eyes meet. Surely it can’t be that simple. I turn my attention to Fletcher. “I’ll think about it.” He glares at Tristan, and I remember what he heard yesterday.
“Okay,” Tristan says. “Come on. We need to leave soon.” He turns to Harry. “You get your grade back today, don’t you, Wiz?”
“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “I won’t pass. I never do.”
“I predict you’re getting a one hundred,” Tristan replies with a smile. “That assignment was on point. I checked it myself.”
Fletcher goes up to get his things, and I follow Tristan out to the car. “Oh my God, Fletcher said no,” I whisper.
“It will be fine. I’ll talk to him today. He’s angry at me; he’ll be fine.” He smiles down at me. “I love you.”
I giggle up at my beautiful man. “I love you too.”
“What?” Tristan’s angry voice bellows through the entire house. “Thirty!” he yells. “A fucking thirty? Are you kidding me?” he cries as he holds the paper in the air.
“Tristan, language,” I snap.
Fletcher and Patrick sit quietly on the couch as they watch, scared to speak.
Harry has just shown Tristan his grade for the space assignment they have done over the last week.
“There is no way in hell this assignment is a thirty!” he yells as he begins to pace. “What are these idiotic, stupid . . . incompetent assholes doing at this school?” he bellows.
“Mrs. Henderson hates me.” Harry sighs.
“Will you calm down?” I say to Tristan. “Stop swearing.”
“No. I will not,” he growls. “That’s it—tomorrow morning, nine a.m., I am at that fucking school.” He punches his fist. “Tick . . . tock . . . Mrs. Henderson.”
I roll my eyes. “Good grief, this is all I need.”
Chapter 23
The thing about loving a powerful man is knowing when to stand back and let him take the reins.
Today I’m doing just that.
“What is he doing out there?” Patrick frowns.
I dip my head to peer out the window and onto the front porch to see Tristan pacing, hands on hips, muttering to himself. He’s been up since five o’clock, dressed in his suit, and ready for battle.
Mrs. Henderson is going down . . . and to be honest I feel like calling ahead and warning her.
She needs to run.
It was his first official night here with me last night, and he didn’t even come to bed until well after I was asleep, and he was up before I woke this morning. I missed the entire thing.
He stayed up and went through all of Harrison’s past assignments and tests. He interviewed Harrison in great detail about the goings-on in class and when and why he has been sent out or suspended. I know that Harrison is a handful, and I’ve been sympathetic to the teachers about his behavior up until this point. But Tristan has assured me that there is more to this story than I realize. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Henderson is going to regret giving Harry such a low grade.
He sticks his head in the front door. “Are you ready?” he calls.
“Tristan.” I stare at him.
He raises his eyebrows impatiently. “What?”
“You’re not going to be passive aggressive to Mrs. Henderson, are you?”