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

It’s okay though. I can and I will.

After the initial bullshit chitchat, we get down to business.

We discuss all the plans for St. Mary’s for the summer and the upcoming year. I’m thinking of hiring new staff, putting some money into the library and a new science lab.

Usually work is something that calms me down. It cools down the rage in my system, but not today.

Maybe it’s the ‘given your history’ comment that got me. Or it was the way that asshole stared at me with condescension all throughout the meeting, I don’t know.

But by the time the meeting gets over, I’m all antsy.

So much so that I can’t focus.

So when I get back to the cottage, I decide to work out at the heavy bag.

It works like a charm when you want to get your focus back.

It also works when you want to intimidate people with your size.

And it’s something I’ve always wanted.

To intimidate.

Anyway, as sweat drips down my face and as my knuckles chafe to the point where I can see the crimson blood blooming under the white tape, I can’t say that it’s helping.

I can’t say that my focus is coming back and anger is going anywhere.

It’s still beating inside my body, my anger.

Rushing through my veins and pulsing in my fucking temple like a headache.

And I have a feeling that it’s only going to grow.

Not just tonight but for as long as I have to live here.

In this place.

In this tiny cottage on the campus of a reform school that my family had built decades ago.

Which is why I’m here in the first place.

Because my family built it decades ago, something they took great pride in. But apparently, in the past year the glory of this place has been tarnished.

And so it’s my job to restore it.

When I got the call about the situation, needless to say I was surprised.

For years, Leah Carlisle has been a favorite of the board members with her ruthless pursuit of rules and reformation. But apparently, last year a scandal broke out involving her son — Arrow Carlisle — who was on the faculty at the time, and a student. And then immediately after that was another breach of conduct when a pregnant student was allowed to stay on. Not to mention a faculty member getting arrested on the grounds of having a relationship with a student.

The board wasn’t happy and they asked her to step down. Since Leah has been a friend for a few years now — as astonished as I am at her behavior and her sudden lack of leadership — I insisted that the board make it look like she’s leaving of her own accord.

And needless to say again, since this school belonged to my family, I asked to take over personally. I also asked to stay on campus to keep a closer eye on things.

Yes, I’d miss teaching summer classes at the college and my other departmental responsibilities, something that I do enjoy, but it’s fine.

This is more important.

Protecting and furthering the family legacy.

Because when you’ve lived half your life falling short of your family’s glorified name, protecting it becomes vital.

Although as important as restoring my family’s name is, I realize that I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.

In coming to St. Mary’s.

And here I thought that I’d already made it, my biggest mistake. Four years ago.

When she came into my life. And when I forced her to stay.

Poe Blyton.

Poe Austen Blyton.

Four years ago when Poe Blyton came into my life, I saw her as an extension of her mother.

And I hated her for it.

I’m not going to delve into why or how.

It’s not something I like to think about. It’s something I’d rather forget.

It’s something that I had forgotten about.

But then she barged into my life and forced me to remember. Forced me to relive all those things because every time I looked at her, Charlie’s face stared back. Even though there’s very little that they have in common, lookswise.

And so, I’m not proud of how I handled it.

I’m not proud of how I acted and how I trapped her.

Let’s just say that it was the biggest mistake of my life. Or rather the first biggest mistake, now that I’ve made the second one.

Which is why I left for Italy the moment I got the chance. To remove myself from her presence. Probably the best thing I could’ve done at the time as her guardian.

But then I came back.

And things changed.

Things changed because now when I look at her, I don’t see Charlie; I don’t even think I remember what Charlie looked like.

Now when I look at her, I only see her.

I only see her thick, perpetually overgrown bangs, the color of midnight. I see her cheekbones that have sharpened over the years, the lines of her face that have matured and fucking blossomed.