Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(38)

“He blames himself for what happened.” Sophia has read the story and some of the news articles on the abduction. “I pushed too much, though, and he got upset and left.”

“What did you say that made him so upset?”

“I told him it wasn’t his fault that his sister went missing. That the only person to blame was the man who took her, and then I suggested he talk to someone other than me about it. He didn’t like that idea, and he left.” I put my hands over my face. “I should have shut up and listened.”

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to keep in mind that I’m your best friend and I know your history with him—”

“All we did was talk. It was coffee in a public place. Professors have coffee with students all the time.”

Sophia takes another sip of her tea and sets it on the side table. “I don’t want to psychoanalyze you, but I do think we need to address the fact that you’re already defensive, and I didn’t even have a chance to ask the question.”

I give her a look. “I already know I shouldn’t have said yes to the coffee.”

“Which speaks volumes, don’t you think? What’s going on between the two of you? He’s stopped by to check on you, you went to his self-defense class, and then, despite knowing it was a bad idea, you went out for coffee with him.”

“To talk. He wrote that story for a reason. He needs someone he can talk to about this. I think it’s been eating at him for years.” I still sound defensive, but Sophia doesn’t call me on it.

“Considering your history with him, and your current role as his professor, do you think that person should be you?”

“Well, I did suggest someone else . . .” And then he bolted. “I didn’t want to shut him down. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How do I handle this?”

“You need to tread very carefully here, Clover. This is a lot more than being a friend and a listening ear. You’re still in a position of power. And it sounds like he could probably use therapy, but he might not be in a place yet where he’s willing to consider that. Regardless, you two have a very layered history, and he’s still your student for a few more weeks.”

“I need to keep the lines with him clear.”

“And with yourself. Do whatever you need to to keep the boundaries in place—at least until he’s not your student anymore.”





Thirteen





Extra Credit





Maverick





The TV is on when I get home, which means there are probably people hanging out. I cross my fingers that it’s BJ passed out on the lounger, but instead, I find my sister and Kody. It’s not a surprise, but the position they’re in is irritating.

Kody is stretched out on the couch, feet hanging over the end. Lavender is straddling his hips, and his hands are on her ass.

“Whoa! This is supposed to be a safe space!” I bellow, causing them both to jump. “Why can’t you do that in your damn bedroom?”

“Oh shit.” Kody basically tosses Lavender to the floor, then sits up in a rush and grabs the closest pillow, putting it over his lap. “Hey. Sorry, man. We didn’t hear you come in.”

I ignore Kody and glare at my sister, who’s sitting on the ground, her face beet red. “You have a TV in your room. Why are you down here dry humping my best friend when you can do that behind a closed door? Like this whole thing isn’t already awkward enough!” I motion between the two of them.

“The TV in my room is tiny, and this one has better sound. And we lost track of time. At least we have all our clothes on,” Lavender says.

“Lav, baby, not helping,” Kody mutters.

I can’t even with the fucking pet names. “No making out in the living room,” I tell them sternly. “And no sex in the hot tub either.”

Kody makes a face and a gagging sound. “Hot tubs are filthy. I would never have sex in one.”

“Just like your mind,” I fire back. “Those are the new house rules. If anyone is in violation, they have a week of dish duty. I’m going to bed.”

“Sorry, Mav,” Kody calls after me.

I don’t bother responding. It’s bad enough that they’re always in each other’s pockets these days. I don’t need to witness their make-out sessions.

I lock my door as soon as I’m in my room and head for my bathroom. I need a shower to wash away all the bad memories. Now that I’m no longer freaking out, I realize it was pretty shitty of me to walk out of the café and leave Clover on her own.

I want to make sure she got home okay, but running by her house at this time of night would be a high level of creepy. Emailing could raise flags. She gave us a cell number in case of emergency situations, but I’d put messaging her at the same level of creeper as emailing and running by her house. So I let it be.

But that means I have shitty dreams. The kind where bad things happen to the people I care about. And apparently one of those people is Clover now.





I skip creative writing class the following evening, trying to find a little perspective. It doesn’t do much good, though. I feel a lot like I’m going through withdrawal. I’ve grown accustomed to the three-hour lectures and the uncomfortable hard-on that accompanies listening to Clover.