Never to Keep (Accepting Fate #1) (8 page)

Peyton sat on my lap during the welcome assembly at her new school. After the hour-long presentation, we filed out of the gym and headed toward her classroom to meet her teacher.

We each carried a plastic grocery bag full of school supplies in one hand and held on to each other tightly with the other. “I’m so proud of you.” I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she looked longingly at a little girl down the hall walking between both of her parents. I leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You know that I love you ten times more than most parents love their kids.” She looked up at me with a toothless grin that melted my heart. “Mommy, Uncle Ethan, Nana, and
Abuela
love you, too.”

The second-grade classroom was the last room at the end of the west hallway. Peyton froze when we crossed the threshold; the room was flooded with a sea of kids and their doting parents. I gave her hand another squeeze to get her attention and mouthed the word ‘ten’, so she would remember our conversation in the hall. She relaxed enough to let me lead her further into the brightly decorated room.

We surveyed the desks until we saw her name printed neatly in black marker across a laminated rainbow. She took the pencil box from her bag and placed it inside the tiny desk. After she unpacked the rest of her supplies, she picked up the science book that sat on top of the pile of texts on her chair. She flipped through its pages until she landed on pictures of outer space. I used her distraction to go across the room to put the tissues and hand sanitizer from my bag in the appropriate piles on a table in front of the windows.

I immediately recognized the dad in front of me in the line to turn in the community supplies. “Hey, Charlie,” I said to one of Ryan and Ethan’s best friends from high school.

“Hi, Maddie, what are you doing here? I thought you’d still be away at school,” he replied with a panty-dropping grin. I made a mental note of his bare ring finger.

“I go by Madison now. I’m here with Peyton.” My smile fell. “You’ve probably heard about what happened with Olivia after Ryan passed.”

“Yeah, Ethan told me. How is she doing?”

“She should be able to come home next month. Peyton has adjusted well to our situation, but she needs her mother.”

Charlie broke the tension with a joke about the volume of hand sanitizer needed for twenty kids as I placed my bottle on the table.

“What’s going on with you?” I asked.

“My wife passed away a few years ago, so I’ve been raising our daughter, Brianna, on my own since then.” He nodded toward a petite girl standing at a group of desks near Peyton’s.

“She’s beautiful. She must look like her mother,” I joked. The laughter died in my throat when I glanced over toward where I’d left Peyton. A man with dark hair and broad shoulders was crouched next to her. She stood absolutely still except for a tiny tremble of her lower lip. Without a word of goodbye to Charlie, I raced back to her side, nearly knocking over a little boy on my way.

“Are you okay, baby?” I asked. She released the breath she’d been holding, wrapped her arms tightly around my hips, and moved behind me.

My stomach fell to the floor when the man stood to full height. Eyes as blue as the deepest ocean locked with mine.

“Hi, I’m Mr. Ramsay.” He held his hand out in greeting. The tight smile he gave me didn’t sit well on his ridiculously handsome face.

“Madison Miller.” I took his hand and released it quickly as I tried to hide the residual anger that burned in my chest.

I leaned down when I felt Peyton tug on my skirt. “Mama, I don’t want a boy teacher.”

“It’s okay, sweet girl.” I reinforced my stomach before saying the words she needed to hear. “Mr. Ramsay seems really nice. You can trust him.” I hoped I wasn’t lying to her. His fiancée obviously shouldn’t trust him, but surely the kids could—or else he wouldn’t have a job.

Peyton tugged on my arm until I bent down closer to her. “He gots the same hair as Daddy,” she whispered sadly in my ear. I didn’t have to look at him to know his shaggy, dark hair was in fact the same color as Ryan’s.

“Is Mr. Miller here tonight?” he asked. The bite of acid in his tone cut through the forced smile on his face. The quiver of Peyton’s lower lip picked up momentum. I stroked her soft hair in an attempt to soothe her. “I like to meet both parents before the school year starts whenever possible.”

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to his dig. Instead, I responded as calmly as I could, needing to redirect the conversation without upsetting my little girl any further. “He isn’t here. Are there any forms I need to fill out before we leave?”

He handed me a red folder from the top of Peyton’s desk. “You can take this home and send it back with her on Monday. Maybe her dad will help fill out the forms, since he didn’t bother coming with you tonight.” His judgmental tone was completely inappropriate.

I opened my mouth to let him have it, but stopped abruptly when a wail of pure agony alerted me to the breech in Peyton’s emotional dam. Fat tears spilled down her face like raindrops in a thunderstorm. She fled the room in search of higher ground.

“Her dad isn’t here tonight, and he won’t be filling out any forms because he’s
dead
,” I snapped. “Maybe if you would’ve bothered reading her file you would have known that, asshole,” I said a little too loudly in the room full of seven-year-olds and their conservative parents. I dropped the folder and ran out of the room to look for my niece.

I found Peyton sitting on the floor in the hallway a few doors down with an older woman crouched beside her. “Hi, I’m Mrs. Paul, the school counselor.” I shook her extended hand and returned the greeting. “Would the two of you like to come to my office? I have a huge jigsaw puzzle I’m working on and could use a little help.” Her friendly smile calmed my nerves and seemed to soothe Peyton’s hurt.

Peyton perked up. “Can we, Mama?” She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Of course, sweetheart.” I took her hand to help her up from the floor.

“Mrs. Paul, could I borrow Ms. Miller for a little while?” The deep voice behind me sent shivers up my spine.

“I think I should stay with Peyton,” I said quickly before Mrs. Paul could respond. “Besides, you still have a classroom full of parents to meet.” I looked behind him and saw Charlie watching from the classroom door with concern on his face.

“It’s okay, Mama. You can come help with the puzzle when you’re done.” Peyton’s little voice sounded so sturdy, considering the state she had been in only a few moments before. Something about the counselor comforted her, and I wanted to encourage that bond, even though it left me stuck with
him
.

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.” I gave her a peck on the top of her head before she walked away with Mrs. Paul.

I started toward the classroom, but was turned by a firm hand on my arm. I was led down two hallways before he paused briefly to open a windowless door. As a child, I had often wondered what was behind the door. I used to imagine it was a magical place filled with toys and candy.

I was pulled into the pitch black room. Mr. Ramsay tugged a dangling chain to illuminate the space. Dust motes danced in the focused beam of light. I was slightly disappointed to see that we were in a cramped storage closet. Gray metal shelves piled high with cleaning supplies and paper products lined every inch of available wall space.

“What the hell is going on? I know for a fact you are
not
her mother.” His anger confused me. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was me.

“What?” I managed to reply, completely exasperated. I didn’t want to waste time on such utter foolishness when I needed to make sure Peyton was okay. I processed his bitter words and responded before he could say anything else. “Once again, if you had read her file, you wouldn’t need to waste my time with this…,” my hands clenched at my sides as I tried to find the right word, “…crap!” I hated that his proximity diminished my brain function to the point that ‘crap’ was the best I could come up with.

He took two steps toward me. I backed away from him until the door was pressed against my back and his broad chest was a scarce inch from mine. I could feel his warm breath on my ear as he leaned in to whisper hateful words. “Even if I thought you were old enough to have a second grader, there’s no way a baby came out of your tight little pussy, and you don’t have a scar from a C-section.” Unlike that night in the hotel, I did not feel excitement from his closeness—more like repulsion.

Anger boiled the blood that raced through my veins. “What makes you an expert? How many mothers have you fucked?” My stomach clenched. As angry as I was, I did not want to know the answer to that question. More importantly, I didn’t want him to see my reaction to his answer.

I took a deep breath; it was time to diffuse the bomb. “Look, we can be civil, right?” I asked, with what I hoped was an even tone. “We don’t have to see each other often, and when we do, we can keep it professional. No one has to know about that night, although I think you should man-up and tell your fiancée if you haven’t already.”

His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head for a second. He was probably trying to figure out how I knew about his relationship, since he’d never mentioned it to me. Anger slid back into place, and he resumed his offense. “Did you enroll Peyton in this school to fuck with my head?”

He must have read enough of her file to know she was a transfer student. “You are so arrogant! I didn’t even know your freaking name until five minutes ago. Hell, I still don’t know your first name. Besides, you told me you were from California. I was hoping I’d never see you again.” He turned me into a petulant teenager.

I took another deep breath.
He is not worth getting riled up over
. I met his eyes. “Please, let’s just pretend it never happened and move past whatever this,” I gestured between us, “is. For Peyton’s sake.”

“Fine,” he snapped, conceding the battle but not the war. I turned on my heel and pulled on the heavy door.

“Wait,” he whispered. He spun me to face him, letting the door close behind me. He backed me up against the solid door once more, but this time he flipped the lock on the handle.

“W-what are you doing?” He was so close I could almost feel my lips brush against his as I spoke. He pressed his warm mouth against mine in response. I didn’t want to react to him. I wanted to push him away, but my hands had a mind of their own and found their way to his hair to pull him closer. He let out a small groan when our tongues met and his hands found my breasts, heavy with need. I barely stifled a moan when he pulled down the bodice of my sundress and sucked the tip of my breast into his warm mouth.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” he said as he switched sides. “I need to have you one more time to get you out of my system.” His mouth returned to my breast, and his hands raised the hem of my skirt. I wanted to protest. I didn’t want to be used like that, particularly not in the janitor’s closet of my former elementary school.

Another one-night stand with this man was the last thing I needed, especially now that he was Peyton’s teacher. My complaint died on my lips when his hand found my core.

“You’re so wet for me,” he said before he took my lips again.

My brain stopped working properly as my body took complete control. A subconscious niggle tried to tell me to stop, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember why I should. My body wanted him, and it wasn’t going to take no for an answer. The memory of how he felt inside of me left me defenseless as he ripped the panties from my body.

Within seconds, I was suspended against the door with my skirt hiked up to my waist. My legs automatically wrapped around him. I tried once again to say no, but my lips refused to cooperate. I looked between us to watch him push his cock inside my body. I released a pent-up breath and let my eyes close as he filled me completely.

“Look at me,” he commanded on a sharp thrust of his hips. I complied with his visceral request immediately. The look of heated possession in his eyes alone nearly brought me to climax. “Want your eyes on me when you come, so there’s no doubt that
I
am the man inside of you, making you feel this way.” He panted while slamming into me repeatedly. My body still craved him just as much as it had when he said similar words to me almost a year ago. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to show him that he couldn’t use me whenever he felt like it, but I didn’t have the willpower to do it.

His hand moved to the place where we joined together and set me off with a flick of his index finger. I convulsed around his hard length and fought to keep my eyes trained on his. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I leaned forward and bit his shoulder through his shirt to keep from screaming. He followed me over the edge with a final, powerful thrust.

My mental faculties returned as he slid out of me and carefully set me on my feet. His words came rushing back. He was screwing me out of his system—and I let him do it. I let a complete asshole fuck me like a whore. Shit. I’d let an engaged man fuck me in a dank closet.

I arranged my dress as quickly as I could and pulled open the door.

“The name’s Sawyer,” he said.

This time when I left, he didn’t stop me. I went to find Peyton, deliberately ignoring the thick, warm fluid running down the inside of my thighs.

Sawyer

Sleep eluded me. For months, I’d seen Madison’s face when I closed my eyes at night, but tonight was different. Instead of looking rumpled and sated, she was hurt and disappointed. I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to rid my mind of the unbearable picture.

I headed for the kitchen on a mission to find the bottle of twenty-six-year-old bourbon Marina had given me in honor of my twenty-sixth birthday. Although the expensive amber liquid was meant to be savored, I threw my head back and chugged from the bottle. The mental image of the horrified expression on my sister’s face, if she were to see what I was doing with her gift, made me chuckle.

My mind was still racing after a third of the bottle was gone. I needed to hear Madison’s voice to make sure she was okay. Fumbling through my messenger bag, I pulled out the class roster and then dialed the number next to Peyton’s name. After the second ring, I looked at the clock and noticed it was after one in the morning. Maybe listening to her voicemail greeting would be enough.