Mud Vein(83)

I’d also like to thank Madison Seidler, Luisa Hansen, Yvette Huerta, Rebecca Espinoza and my little Nina Gomez for their input and friendship. Jonathan Rodriguez for assuring me every day that I’m a genius (even though I can’t do fractions).



Tosha Khoury, I am so blessed to have you. You get me. You get what I write. I don’t know anyone who believes in my books more than you.

Amy Tannenbaum, my tiny, tough, agent.



My vicious PLN army/gang, I love you! Sundae Coletti, Jennifer Stiltner, Robin Stranahan, Dyann Tufts, Robin Segnitz, Amy Holloway, Krystle Zion, Sandra Cortez, Nelly Martinez de Iraheta, Monica Martinez, Sarah Kaiser, Chelsea Peden McCrory, Dawnita Kiefer, Miranda Howard, Courtney Mazal, Yoss, Kristin McNally, Tre Hathaway, Shelly Ford, Maribel Zamora, Maria Milano, Fizza Hussain, Brooke Higgins, Paula Roper, Joanna Hoffman Dursi, Marivett Villafane, Amy Miller Sayler, and my favorite Kristy Garner. I wish I could list you all.



Since publishing my first book, I have met so many people who made me view the world differently. There is none more rare and precious than Colleen Hoover. She is a light shining in darkness. Thank you for loving Mud Vein, and for recognizing our red thread. You have no heart, and you have the biggest heart.





And finally, to the God who says: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” I live for you, mud vein and all.





I packed, drove, and showered quickly so I could make the morning meeting on time. I wondered if April would be there now that she seemed close to being brought on as a full-time teacher. Hopefully she would be. I’d have to decide whether to sit next to her and breathe in her intoxicating floral scent or if I wanted to sit on the opposite side of the room so I could simply look. Or stare. Let’s face it—I would probably stare.

The room was half-full when I arrived with five minutes to spare. A few of the teachers looked up when I came in. Their faces registered surprise, clearly not expecting to see me back so soon. I got a few nods in my direction, but no one spoke. Teachers aren’t usually morning people unless they’ve had their cup or two or six of coffee. Their silence made it evident that the liquid brown drug was not yet coursing through their bodies. Or that seeing me was a little awkward, considering the state I was in when they last saw me. I tugged on the collar of my shirt and ducked my head.

April was seated on the second row and seemed to be lost in a pile of paper on her lap. She was wearing a long-sleeve white button-up shirt, with the sleeves folded halfway up her forearm. Her skirt was black, and her hair was back in a ponytail. Her outfit brought to mind just about every teacher fantasy I had ever allowed myself to indulge in while growing up. Because her hair was pulled back, the pearly white skin of her neck was exposed. God, I was starting to have serious vampire thoughts.

I will kiss that neck, I told myself. More than once. I will.

I’d never promised myself that I would kiss the body of a married woman before, but there’s a first time for everything, I guess. There was something about her neck that made me want to claim it. So Maniac Marco could go f*ck himself for all I cared. Knowing what I did about him, he probably wished he could f*ck himself. Arrogant prick.

I snuck my way into the third row and took a seat behind her, one seat over to her left. When I sat down, I felt like I had immersed myself in a field of lilies, her soft, sweet scent filling my nose.

Yeah, her neck is mine.

Among other things.

“Good morning,” I said, not wanting to stir her from her paper reading. But very much wanting to also.

She turned around.

“Oh, there you are,” she said with a sense of familiarity that made my nerves tingle. “Good morning back.”

God, all she had to do was smile and I swear I would have done anything she asked. Including commit serious crimes.

“Is this your first meeting?”

“No, I came to the meeting on Tuesday also.”

“Oh, nice.”

She lowered her head and her voice, “They are so much fun!”

This time I smiled. Sarcasm almost always made me smile.

“Why are you sitting back there?” she asked. “You’re dumb. Sit next to me.”

She patted the chair to her right and I went straight for it, like a dog being called to the side of its owner. There hadn’t even been a second thought, just an immediate response. Surely, anyone paying attention would have thought I was pathetic.

The meeting better start soon or I can’t be held responsible for what I do next.

“What are your thoughts on James Joyce?” she asked as more teachers shuffled in.

Her question caught my lily-obsessed mind off-guard.

“Uh...”

“You’ve read him, yes?”

I could read the look on her face as she read the look on mine. I had never read him, and she could clearly read that on my face.

“Oh my god,” she said under her breath. I couldn’t tell whether she was mortified or repulsed.

“There are plenty of authors, April. I haven’t had a chance to get to them all!” I said, feebly trying to defend myself.

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “No. That doesn’t fly with me.”

My mind was trying to race through a list of authors I had read, ones I thought maybe she hadn’t.