To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)(55)

“I need to go,” Aspen gasped, jerking her purse off the bar as she hopped off her stool. “I can’t... This is... I’m sorry. Can I pay my tab now?”

I turned to her, already knowing what I’d see and dreading it. She wouldn’t even look at me. Her cheeks were stained with guilt and her throat worked as she swallowed convulsively.

“Aspen,” I started, ready to fight for her. But what the hell? I’d just decided she was worth it; why would the universe pull the rug out from under us like that?

“Don’t,” she pleaded, her voice strained and eyelashes damp.

I crumbled. Here, I’d been all prepared to argue our case. We weren’t like them. Neither of us was married; we weren’t being unfaithful. And if I remembered correctly, Coach Wilson was in his late thirties. He was probably twenty years older than Allison Belfries.

But the bleak, troubled, guilty gleam in Aspen’s green eyes reminded me our situation would probably be worse, actually. Volleyball wasn’t nearly as big of a deal at Ellamore as football was. And Aspen was actually one of my professors, responsible for giving me my literature grade. The media would make a hell of a lot bigger deal out of us than they would from some coach/player relationship. And it’d all fall back on her. She’d get the heat, the dirty names, the ruined future. She’d get everything, while I’d get off scot-free.

No matter how much I wanted her, no matter how amazing she made me feel, I couldn’t do that to her. The sacrificing part was all hers, not mine.

I hated that.

Taking a physical step back, I nodded my understanding and relinquished my fight to try to keep her. But God, it sliced me in two to let that hope go.

“Here’s your tab, Dr. Kavanagh.” Lowe appeared beside me, already back from his kitchen trip.

I knew he was probably trying to be helpful because he’d seen everything that had just happened. But his actions irritated me. I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on between us. And even more, I didn’t want him to realize how much this f*cking hurt. Showing my vulnerabilities pissed me off. I wanted to ball my hand into a fist and punch Lowe in the face. Actually, any kind of violence to get this clawing sensation out of my chest would do. And since he was handy...

Aspen sputtered, her face coloring as she blinked at him. “You know...you know who I am?”

“My girlfriend and I take World Masterpieces,” he explained. Then he shrugged and gave her a bashful smile. “You’re actually her favorite teacher.”

She paled, but nodded and tried to smile back as she handed him a twenty to pay.

Lowe turned toward the cash register and sent me a glance as he did. But his gaze was unreadable, and I felt abandoned as he turned away.

Though Aspen stood just on the other side of the bar, she was suddenly unreachable.

We didn’t speak as we waited for Lowe to return with her change. And we didn’t look at each other. I watched her from the corner of my eye as she hugged her purse to her breasts. I folded my arms over my chest, frustrated because I could do nothing to fix this.

Lowe returned too soon. Now Aspen would leave. My mind whirled to come up with the perfection solution to fix this, but I had nothing.

After stuffing a ten in the tip jar, she spun away and hurried off. Without even saying goodbye.

I clenched my teeth and glared at Lowe.

He blew out a long breath. “Well... That sure sucked for you.”

With a harsh laugh, I shook my head. “Yeah.” Damn it. I still wanted to hit something. “I need a drink.” Yanking up the first bottle of bourbon I found, I flipped over a glass and splashed in a liberal amount. After downing it in one swallow, I hissed out a breath through my teeth, only to discover Jessie had actually come out of her office. She narrowed her eyes. I narrowed mine right back and watched her with a challenging arch of my brows as I poured myself another.

She pointed her index finger threateningly. “You’re paying for those, Gamble.”

After she turned and started for the exit to leave for the night, I glared after her. “No, I’m not.” Then I drank the next shot.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN




“Dreams come true. Without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them. ” - John Updike



ASPEN



My cozy, two-bedroom, bungalow-style home sat in the middle of a street with trees in the front yards and kids’ toys in the back. Middle class’s version of the American dream. This was the first place I’d lived on my own, the first place I’d lived away from my parents.

I’d gained my freedom here. Within the first few weeks of moving in, I’d gone a little wild. Well, my version of wild, anyway. I’d painted my walls crazy colors like tangerine and robin’s egg blue. I bought towels and silverware that totally mismatched because they mismatched. I even went out and bought a bottle of wine to celebrate.

If only my parents had seen me then...

But that’s exactly why I’d done it, because I knew they’d disapprove. Well, that and because I’d loved those colors and I loved my mismatching menagerie of things, plus I really had wanted to do something commemorative to celebrate.

It was a small rebellion, but big enough in my book. Finally living for myself now? I cherished every little independent thing I got to do.