Misconduct(96)

“I’m shy,” I warned her.

“You’re intolerant,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”

I gave her a small smile. “I’m cynical,” I pointed out.

“Ohhhh, cynics are so cute,” she cooed, and I shook my head in amusement.

“And I don’t really like to party,” I told her, laying down the law.

“And I do,” she threw back, shrugging. “We’ll meet in the middle.”





TWENTY-THREE


TYLER





H

earing the cheers outside the auditorium, I dug my phone out of my breast pocket and pressed the button, turning it off.

I’d learned a little something over the past couple of weeks. The world would wait.

I swung the doors open and entered, a flood of battle cries and high-pitched instruments surrounding me as I walked in and let the heavy door slam shut behind me.

Jesus. How the hell was I going to find Christian in all of this?

The entire gymnasium was packed, bleachers filled to capacity on both sides of the basketball court with parents, staff, and students, some forced to stand on the sides for lack of seating.

The Friday pep rally, normally held during the morning on days there would be football games in the evening, was being held in the afternoon this week due to testing earlier in the day. Christian had texted, asking me to come.

Most of the parents would be here, and over the past several days he’d been more and more interested in me seeing things that went on at school and meeting his friends.

I’d instantly agreed. I’d come for Christian, but I was doing a piss-poor job of ignoring the small hope that I’d see Easton. I’d looked for her every day I picked up Christian from school, trying not to but f*cking failing miserably.

No matter how much I tried to ignore the pull, I always scanned the school grounds for her after school, but she was never there. She didn’t come outside anymore to see the students on their way, and the only glimpses of her I got were online in the social media groups.

I scanned the bleachers, forcing myself not to look for her, but there was no way I was going to find Christian in this mess, either. I almost dug my phone out to text him when I spotted Jack, Easton’s brother, watching the dance performance taking place in the center of the court from the sidelines.

I debated whether to greet him, but not saying hello would prolong the awkwardness.

“Jack.” I stepped up to his side, folding my arms over my chest. “How are you?”

He twisted his head toward me, giving me a genuine smile. I guessed that Easton hadn’t confided in him, or he might have reacted differently.

“Very well,” he replied. “I’m taking Easton to dinner after this. I only hope she doesn’t have to stick around to clean up the mess.”

He laughed, and I just nodded, wishing I didn’t love hearing even the littlest thing about her.

“Thanks for the introductions at your luncheon a few weeks ago,” he said.

“No problem,” I told him. “I hope it was helpful. I know how hard it can be to break into the right circles here.”

“Do you?” he threw back, an amused look on his face.

I breathed out a small laugh, looking him in the eye. “I used my family’s money to receive a good education, but I built my company on my own.”

He seemed to take that in stride, because he turned back to the court and didn’t say anything else.

We stood in silence for a few moments, and I caught Christian’s waving hand from the bleachers.

I held up my hand, waving back, and he sat down with his friends, continuing to clap with the audience as the cheerleaders took the floor.

I let my eyes swing from left to right, but I still didn’t see her.

I inhaled a long breath through my nose. “How’s Easton?” I broached.

“She’s good. Newsweek wants to interview her.”

“Newsweek?” I shot him a look, surprised. “Why?”

“For her teaching methods,” he responded. “She’s gaining some great publicity.” And then a look crossed his eyes, and he turned back to the court. “As always.”

I’d been in Newsweek once. When I was a twenty-five-year-old entrepreneur, as part of a feature on twenty-four other up-and-coming entrepreneurs. She was being interviewed personally?

Jack shook his head. “No matter what she does, she’s always a winner.”

“And how does she feel about that?” I asked, suddenly worried. “After everything that happened, being in the press again, is she okay with it?”

Jack looked at me, suddenly appearing tense. “What did she tell you?”

I shrugged slightly. “She told me about your parents and sister.” And then I dropped my voice. “And that she had a coach who was inappropriate and then fired.”

“That’s it?” he asked, pinching his eyebrows at me. “He was more than inappropriate. He stalked her.”

“What?”

He dropped his arms, sliding his hands into his pockets. “My parents fired him, but that was only the beginning.” He spoke quietly. “For two years, he terrorized her. E-mailed, called, left messages, showed up at her matches… He threatened her, broke into her hotel rooms, ransacked her things… My parents had to take away her phone, her e-mail, and eventually her freedom.”