Veiled Innocence

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Past…

Six days.

It had been six days since I’d last seen Addison. I thought it would leave me feeling more centered, less off-balance, but I all I could think of was her.

I’d taken Friday off to go back to the facility my father had stayed in and finalize his estate. Then I’d had the dreadful task of arranging a funeral for one.

I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that he was gone—forever.

Helene had been the first to offer her condolences Monday morning, but while she’d been talking to me and extending her sympathy, I’d been picturing Addison. I’d memorized the way she’d looked as she knelt beside me with my camera in her hands, trying to see behind the walls I’d kept up around her.

Addison Lancaster. Ingénue or Siren?

The first time I heard her name, I knew I was in trouble.

Last Thursday when she’d shown up at my house, all pretense of what was going on between us had fallen away. The excitement and lust that originally drew me to her had been replaced with emotions I was scrambling to get ahold of. Complex emotions were threatening to overwhelm me, but somewhere amongst the disorder, there was some part of it that made sense. She was the only thing that had brought me comfort in my darkest of days.

I walked into my classroom, and stopped by my desk, and immediately I knew she was there. My eyes searched out the seat that had sat vacant since Monday, and there she was, polished as ever.

Her lip had fully healed, and her hair was curled to perfection. Her blue eyes found mine, and I knew right away that something was different.

She resembled the girl I’d first met only weeks ago, except this time, her eyes weren’t full of mischief or rebellion—they were flat and dispassionate.

“Good Morning, Addison,” I managed, my voice sounding strained, even to me.

“Good morning, Mr. McKendrick.”

Trying to get a read on her, I walked around to the front of my desk and leaned back against it.

“You’re early.”

“Am I?” she asked, but if anyone knew where they were at all times, it was Addison.

“Did you need to see me about something?” I prodded.

This version of her was terrifying in that I had absolutely no idea what she was thinking.

“Yes. Am I required to hand in the paper from last Friday?”

Is she serious?

Sitting right in front of me was a stranger. The girl who’d teased and provoked with the tilt of her lips and batting of her eyelashes was gone—just when I’d been coming to accept her.

“The Anne Boleyn paper? No. There’s no catch up in my class for suspended students.”

She shook her head as if disappointed. I wondered if she expected different treatment. But then I kicked my own ass because of course she did. I’d had her under me, naked and spread open as I lost myself inside her. Was a little leniency out of the question?

Not for her, but for Brandon, who also was unable to make up the credits, it would be completely unfair. She had to know that.

Pushing off my desk, I walked down between the tables and chairs until I came to a stop in front of her. As she tipped her face up to me, I had the urge to bend down and take her lips with mine.

Selfless didn’t describe me or my prior actions, but now, right this second, I didn’t care about the consequences I might suffer. I only cared about her.

“If I could give you the time to make it up, I would.”

She placed her hands on top of the desk, interlocking her fingers. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Crouching down until I was eye level with her, I held onto the edge of the wood to prevent myself from reaching out and touching her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. Her tone conveyed she was anything but. “Are you?”

“I’m feeling more myself today.”

“Yourself, huh? As opposed to drinking a bottle of scotch and—”

“Yes,” I cut her off, not needing a recap of my transgressions. “As opposed to that.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Before she had a chance to answer, the classroom door slammed open, jolting me back to reality.

I stood and turned to see Brandon making his way into the room, leading Jessica by the hand. They looked to where I was standing, and Jessica flashed me a smile. Her gaze then dropped to Addison and it disappeared—no love lost there.

“Good morning, Brandon, Jessica. Please go ahead and take a seat.”

I strolled as calmly as I could back to the front of the room, trying not to reveal anything I didn’t want known.

“Sure, Mr. M,” Brandon agreed a little too readily.

I watched him walk to the seat beside Addison and then he glanced back over his shoulder at me. The move was confrontational, and when I sat down behind my desk, I realized he was sizing me up. But why?

As the other students began filing into the room, I reminded myself that Brandon knew nothing—there was no way he could. He was probably still pissed off from being suspended last week. As the final bell chimed, I watched him turn to Addison.

She didn’t spare him a passing glance but merely sat silently as she had been a few minutes earlier.

But then he looked back to me.

His eyes were inquisitive. His stare, suspicious.

Right then I realized there were much more dangerous things in my life than Addison.

Present…

Doc told me to meet him out in the courtyard today.

Apparently, he has finally had it with his tiny office, not that I can blame him. Compared to the one at his home, this one must be a real drag.

“Ahh, isn’t it beautiful today?”

I look behind me to see Doc making his way along the path surrounding the small fountain. He has one hand up to shade his eyes and the other is swinging a yellow envelope by his leg.

I scoot over on the bench and wait for him to sit. He takes the spot I’ve vacated and then bumps our shoulders together. “I said, isn’t it beautiful today?”

I give a look that screams, really?

“Don’t give me that look.”

Feeling my lips twitch, I can’t help from asking, “What look?”

Then in his best “girl” voice, Doc mimics who I can only assume is one of his daughters, “Seriously?”

Laughing out loud, I admit, “It really is a beautiful day.”

“See?”

“So, what does it matter? I’m still in here.”

My insolent response doesn’t seem to faze Doc in the slightest. Instead, he shrugs.

“Technically you’re out here, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, today we have a different result.”

“As opposed to?”

“The last time we were out here. You cried that day, do you remember?”

I think back several days and remember standing here with Doc. The memory is clear. The sun was the same, but he was right—today I noticed it was a beautiful day, today…

“Today you smiled.”

Past…

History class went by fast enough, and as soon as the bell rang, I leaped to my feet to leave. I had a meeting today with Miss Shrieve at ten, and I didn’t want to be late. I also didn’t want to give Grayson a chance to ends things before I was ready.

After my session on Monday with Doc, I understood what needed to happen, it was just harder than I imagined. A few simple words and this would all be over. Life would return to normal—wouldn’t it?

And what was normal? Life before him? That didn’t sound like the ending I wanted either, but what other choice was there? Doc was making me realize I was not helping Grayson the way he helped me.

Wanting someone and needing them was entirely different than being good for them—and it was more than clear, that I was not that for him.

“Oh, Addison, come in.”

Why my skin prickled at Miss Shrieve’s invitation I couldn’t have guessed, but the way she examined me as I stepped into her office and took a seat made me uncomfortable.

She held up her index finger and gave me a tight smile. “One second. Let me shut the door.”

I placed my bag on my lap and clutched it tightly as I waited for her to make her way back around and take a seat. Again, her eyes shifted over me.

“How are you today?”

That was the question of the day, apparently.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

I nodded and tried to be more convincing. “Yes. I’m fine.”

Even though the one person who shouldn’t be running through my mind, is.

“I spoke with your mother the day you were suspended and released early to go home.”

Why are we rehashing this? I knew it all already and so did she, so what was the—

“Your mother mentioned you came home last Wednesday with the bruised lip.”

I remain silent, wondering exactly what she was getting at. That was when she dropped her bomb.

“I know that Jessica didn’t strike your face on Wednesday in the parking lot. So, who did that to you?”

I wondered exactly who she thought did it. If she’d seen that Jessica hadn’t slapped me, just how long did she stand there? Had she seen me talking to Grayson?

“It’s okay, you know. You can tell me.”

I thought about that and then, for first time in days, I heard the—tick, tick, tock—of her clock. That was when I asked with a little more malice than I expected, “And why would I do that?”

She didn’t flinch, not even to blink, as she spoke in a tone that was clear and invited no deviation. “I’m your teacher. I’m here to help you, to guide you. I’m someone you can trust implicitly.”

I didn’t trust her—not at all.

“Are we done?”

She sat back in her chair and silently nodded, indicating that yes, for now we were done. I stood, and just as I got to the door, she called out my name. With a palm on the handle I looked back.

“Perhaps you should talk to Mr. McKendrick. It seems like you trust him.”

Without saying a word, I opened the door and left Miss Shrieve’s office.

Present…

“What’s in the envelope?”

Lifting the yellow rectangle, Doc hands it to me.

“It’s for you.”

I start to open it, but he puts his hand over mine. “Nope. Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“Nope.”

He removed his hand, and I put the envelope on the bench between us and sighed. “Okay, O wise one.”

“Ah! There’s your sense of humor!” Bringing a hand to his chest, Doc admits, “That does very good things to this old heart.”

“You aren’t that old.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. You’re only as old as you feel.”

“And how old do you feel, Addy?”

“Nice one. How long did you think about that before you threw it in there?”

“Last night and this morning. But…back to the question. How old do you feel?”

I stretch my legs out in front of me and then shrug. “I feel like a child here. Someone is always telling me what to do.”

“Well, you know why. They just want to—”

“I know. Make sure I don’t hurt myself or anyone else,” I finish for him. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Look where it got me,” I tell him, gesturing around us.

“Sitting on a bench with me on a nice sunny day? Could be worse.”

“Locked up. I mean it got me locked up.”

“Hmm…”

“There you go again.”

Pointing to the envelope, he says, “Open it.”

Picking it up, I unseal it and pull out what’s inside. There in my hands is the smiling face of Brandon Williams.

Standing all around him are members of his new track team, and he is front and center, beaming at the camera. I can feel the anger I’d forgotten for days start to bubble up inside me. The picture had been featured in the Sunday newspaper and stated that Brandon Williams was now the National 100-meter dash champion.

My head snaps around to Doc, and fuming, I get to my feet.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Addy, please. Watch the language.”

“Explain. Why would you give me this?” I demand, shoving the article back at him. He takes it from me as he stands, but before I can pull my hand back he takes ahold of it.

“He hurt people. Didn’t he?”

“You know he did. They already told you when I was admitted here what happened.”

I don’t understand. Why is Doc throwing this in my face? I don’t want to know about Brandon. I don’t care about him. I don’t care about—

“But he’s happy. Just look at him.”

“I thought I could trust you!” I shout. He’s hurt me just when I thought I didn’t have any feelings left to hurt.

“You can,” he tells me. I shake my head, quite adamant he is lying.

“Listen to me. You can’t let these people continue to have such a hold over you. Use your head, not your heart. Make yourself want it. Crave it, not some illusion, Addison.”

The use of my proper name pulls me from my angry haze. “Make myself want what? You aren’t making any sense.”

Letting me go, Doc points to the paper in my hand. “What he has. Freedom.”