Trusting You (Second Chances #2)(18)

Taking a seat beside me, Rachel opened the album to one of the pictures of Brett’s mother and father together. For some reason his father looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I knew I’d seen him around somewhere before … but where?

Rachel sighed and said, “Yes, Brett’s father is still alive, but he has nothing to do with him. He hasn’t for quite some time now.”

With his arms full of tomatoes, I could see Brett making his way to the house. Quickly, I asked, “Why doesn’t he talk to his father?”

I had a feeling this was one of the things Brett wanted to keep from me, and I felt guilty for trying to pry the answers out of his grandmother, but I wanted to know what put that haunted look in his eyes.

Reluctantly, she closed the album and met my gaze with her soft, brown eyes. “When Caroline died, Brett blamed his father. He’s never forgiven him since.”

Furrowing my brows, I tried to think of a reason why Brett would blame his dad for his mother’s death. Not unless …

When my eyes went wide, Rachel placed a hand over mine and squeezed. “That’s right, child. My daughter didn’t die from natural causes.” She paused and closed her eyes. “She died by taking her own life. When Brett was fifteen years old, she left him here alone, motherless and with a father he blamed for it.”

With the slam of a door, Brett entered the room and my heart broke for him.





Ten


If Brett knew what his grandmother and I were talking about he never let on that he knew. Two weeks had passed and things had slowly turned into a routine for me and him. The first week together we barely saw each other with him working all those long hours, but he made sure to call me every day to let me know he was thinking about me. I spent most of my time with my schoolwork, concentrating on lesson plans, and doing everything possible to avoid my ex-husband.

It was getting to the point that his incessant texting was becoming a problem. I knew Brett needed to know what was going on, but I kept praying that Daniel would get the picture and give up on me. Soon it would come down to him showing up at my house and that was something that could not happen.

The second week Brett and I had been inseparable. To make up for time lost, he had stayed at my place every single night for the past week. Hence, the reason I just stepped out of the shower a happy woman.

On the counter, beside my make-up bag, sat a steaming cup of coffee. Brett was leaning in the doorway—dressed impeccably in a gray suit that matched his eyes—and stared at me over the rim of his cup.

“You’re spoiling me, firecracker. I’m starting to like being able to see you every morning,” he admitted, a smile stretching across his face.

Sidling up to him, I kissed him gently on the lips and could taste the French vanilla coffee that he made us every single morning. “I’m starting to like it, too,” I said, taking my own cup and drinking a sip. He’d already added in the sugar and cream to it as well, and from the grin on his face he knew I noticed it.

“I think you’re starting to spoil me, too,” I countered. “A girl could get used to this kind of treatment.” Not only were we waking up together every morning, but we were also enjoying every night together. Brett and I have had more sex in the past two weeks than my ex and I had the whole time we were married, which honestly wasn’t that long; a little less than two years.

Brett gazed up and down my body and I could see that it made him happy … literally. He groaned and ran his hands over my wet breasts. “If I didn’t have to go into work early, I would lick all this water off of you and f*ck you till you couldn’t walk.” He grabbed my towel and began drying off my body, starting with my arms and working down to my legs. I jumped when his fingers slipped inside me and just as quickly pulled out.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t help myself,” he teased sarcastically.

“Mmhmm …” I mumbled. “Somehow I don’t believe that.”

When he got done drying me off and fondling me, he glanced at his watch and sighed. “All right, baby, my time is up. I’ll call you during lunch today, okay?”

I smiled. “Okay.”

He kissed me quickly, making sure to part my lips with his tongue so he could get a taste of me before he left. “I hope you have a good day, firecracker. And don’t let those high school boys drool over you today. I saw what you have picked out to wear.”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed him out of the bathroom. “It’s just a skirt, Brett. I’m not an old school marm and into the sweater vests. Maybe when I’m older, but definitely not right now.”

He grinned and shook his head. “All I know is that if I was in your class, I’d have the biggest hard on watching you every day in the front of the class. You’re one hot f*cking teacher.” He winked, kissed me again quickly, and marched out of the bedroom and into the hall.

“Have a good day and be safe going to work,” I hollered out, hoping he heard me.

“Will do, babe,” he shouted back before the sound of him opening and closing the front door echoed from downstairs. I could hear the rumble of his Jeep start up and taper off after a few minutes. It was time to get ready for another day of work.





Eleven


“Ms. Ashford, do we need to know all of this for the test next week?” Kacey asked, holding up the study questions I just passed out.