Worth the Wait: A Second Chance Small Town Romance (Love at First Sight Book 4) Read online

"Tracy?" I asked.

  The woman at the cluttered desk smiled, glasses wedged firmly into the graying cap of hair on her head. "Hunter? My Lord, look at you." She laughed, standing with an outstretched hand. "How long has it been since I've seen your face?"

  I rubbed a hand along my jaw, one that desperately needed a shave. "I was probably twenty? Maybe twenty-one."

  She sighed, gesturing for me to take a seat in the wine-colored chair wedged into the corner of her windowless office. Her desk was stacked with papers, a couple of lamps set behind them to create the illusion of light and warmth in an office that was just shy of a jail cell. And this was the counselor's office, I thought with a pang of sadness, again thinking of the school I'd left. Private schools weren't necessarily leaps and bounds nicer than public schools, but the place I'd left ... that I'd run for the past few years ... it wasn't just a private school. It was a prep school for the wealthy of Seattle. Our school counselor's office had a wall of windows, a leather couch with plush white pillows, and a small water feature she'd set in the corner to help students relax when they came to speak to her.

  "Well, you've sure grown up in the past twelve or so years," she said. "And I hope I'm not being rude, but what on God's green earth made you take this job?"

  I laughed under my breath. "Thought maybe you'd let me warm up a bit first before asking the big questions."

  Her eyes were warm, and I could see why she'd do well with the younger students. "I could've asked you about your divorce, but that felt like I'd be taking a turn past rude and heading straight into sinful gossip."

  "I appreciate that." The chair in her office was soft and comfortable, and I rested an ankle over the knee of my other leg, thinking about how I wanted to answer her question. She'd been a new teacher at the high school when I left and one who encouraged me to pursue my love of reading and education. "The short answer is twofold. I was ready for a change, get back to the source of why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place. And two, my sister-in-law is having a baby." I smiled when she nodded. Nothing was a surprise in Green Valley, not if your family had roots in the town. "My mother called me on the right day to ask if I'd consider coming back for a while. I signed a resignation letter and packed a suitcase to be here when I become an uncle for the first time."

  She hummed a happy sound. "Your parents are good people. And they'll make excellent grandparents."

  "And Connor has cemented himself as the favorite son because he stayed right down the road where she can visit that baby any time she wants."

  "I don't know. You must've gained a lot of motherly favor by coming back."

  I conceded that with a nod. "She did make me pancakes and bacon for breakfast this morning, which my father glared at the entire time he ate his egg white omelet and bowl of fruit."

  Tracy laughed. "I'm sure she loves being able to fuss over you again."

  That was the truth. I'd only been home for three days, spending the first two of them catching up on the sleep I missed in my drive from Seattle to Green Valley. And every time I surfaced, there were hot, homemade meals, a few tears, and more hugs than I'd received in the past five years if I thought about it.

  "She does. When I told her I could grab something from Daisy's on my way out here, she asked what she'd ever done to offend me so badly that I needed someone else to make me breakfast."

  Tracy gave me another smile before her eyes turned thoughtful. "What about the long answer? About why you're here."

  It was my turn to hum. A hollow ache clicked on in my chest like someone had it hooked to a light switch. It appeared like magic like it always did when I thought about the mixed feelings I had in returning to Green Valley. Twelve years earlier, I'd left this place that I loved because the one person who held my heart had asked me to go. Had asked me to stop loving her.

  I'd done the first. I'd never be able to do the second.

  Staying was impossible, if it meant seeing her face around every corner. I'd heard she left. My mom mentioned it in passing about a year after I'd moved to Seattle. She was so tangled up in the long answer. Of why I'd left. Why I was back. Why I'd married someone I knew wasn't right for me.

  None of those felt like safe topics.

  I held her gaze steadily. "We may have to save that for a day when we feel like some sinful gossip."

  Her answering laughter was loud and brought a smile to my face.

  "Who am I meeting with today?" I asked. The county had assigned me a handful of students, and today I'd be meeting my first.

  She let the subject change slide, pulling a bright blue folder from the top of the stack next to her. "Theo Rossman."

  I took the folder and flipped it open, my gaze tracking down blank test scores, teachers notes about outbursts in school. Despite those things, he had years of performance prior that showed signs of a bright kid. "What happened this past year?"

  "I don't know all the specifics. The couple of times I've had Theo in my office, he shut down faster than I can blink. He lives with his older sister right now. There are some legal troubles with the mom." She paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "She's a repeat offender. The sister is the only stability he's ever had, and she does well ... considering she never expected to be a single parent to her younger brother. If I remember right, the mom’s sentence is up sometime in the next year or so, but I might be wrong about that, so don’t quote me."

  "He's scared," I guessed.

  She made a sound of agreement. "Some of his outbursts at school have definite roots in feeling out of control. But really, he's a good kid," she said. "Smart as a whip and has a mouth on him like a twenty-year-old college boy."

  I laughed. "Great."

  "No one here wants to see him repeat a grade. He's got enough to worry about, and that's part of the problem. How do we help him figure out how to regulate all those big emotions, those fears, and then sit down and take a test when we've got thirty other kids who need our attention too?"

  Just about every school in America faced this same problem to varying degrees. And the access to that kind of help was so much easier for the kids at the school I'd left. Their parents made a phone call and had an appointment with a pediatric therapist within the week. Had them signed up for karate or taekwondo the week after that because their friends said it worked wonders for their kid's anxiety. But in a place with higher poverty levels, it wasn't so simple.

  "Today is mainly an intro day, right?"

  She nodded. "They're doing some group activities now. Their parents know it's a shorter schedule while we ease into the program. And I can't tell you how lucky kids like Theo are to have you willing to put your background to use like this."

  Her words echoed on a loop while we reviewed a few more students—one in the lower elementary and two in middle school. But my focus for the day was Theo.

  Tucked against the inside flap of the folder was a picture of a boy with bright blue eyes and a gap-toothed smile.

  Tracy walked me down the hallway toward the playground, where the kids were working on a science scavenger hunt led by a college student who was part of the program. As the kids wandered the space, I held up a hand to shield my face from the sun while I tried to pick him out of the group.

  He was by himself, paper clutched in his hand, kicking lazily at a clump of woodchips by the base of the slide. His hair was dark and long, flopping over his eyes, and his shirt was large on his thin frame. He was tall and gangly, a lot like I'd been at his age, and I tried to think about how I might've felt if I were him.

  Theo noticed my approach and gave me a quick, nervous look before turning his attention back to the woodchips. I took a seat on the nearby bench, spreading my legs out and dangling my clasped hands between.

  "You must be Theo," I said.

  He shrugged. "Yeah."

  I held out my hand. "I'm Mr. B. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

  At the adult greeting, he glanced up in surprise but cautiously took my hand in his.

 
"You done with the scavenger hunt already?"

  He shook his head. "Haven't started yet."

  "Why not?"

  He blew out a slow breath. "Because I think they're stupid, and I don't need to search around for a worm to expand my brain or whatever they're trying to get me to do."

  I tried not to smile. "That so?"

  "I promised my sister I'd try, and I did. Until they handed me a list that a five-year-old could check off in like, ten minutes. If I'd known I was signing up for kindergarten crap, I never would've agreed to come."

  He said it with so much disdain, like there could be nothing worse than being five. And it was right there, all over his face, that this was not a kid who'd need me to tiptoe through warm-up questions. A lot of adults missed that. Most kids approached you in the way they wanted to be approached. They'd show you exactly what kind of interactions would mean the most to them if you're willing to pick up the signals.

  Theo Rossman needed a direct, firm approach because it was the exact way he greeted a new authority figure.

  I sat up, crossing my arms over my chest. "Kids learn important stuff in kindergarten, you know. It's foundational. You can't learn anything else without knowing those things."

  He stopped just shy of rolling his eyes. "I know how to read and write and shit."

  At the slip in his language, Theo’s eyes darted nervously in my direction. But I didn't correct him.

  I tilted my head. "How about you and I come to an agreement, Theo?"

  "Here we go," he muttered.

  "I won't get you in trouble for your language, which is a pretty big deal, considering what I did at my last job."

  He eyed me warily. "What was that?"

  I leaned forward and held his gaze. "I was a principal."

  Theo swallowed audibly. "Like, a real principal?"

  "Yup."

  "You suspend anyone?"

  "Of course. They had to break some pretty big rules for that to happen, though."

  "They're not gonna suspend me for saying shit."

  I let my brow rise in brief concession. "Probably not."

  "My sister told me it's fine if I don't get straight A’s as long as I don't get suspended. And she knows I'm trying." He crossed his arms over his chest like I'd done. "I'm not sure you're giving me that great of an offer."

  "You sure you're only ten?" I asked.

  He gave me a quick grin.

  "Okay. How about this—I know you want to be treated like an adult because you're using adult language, and you clearly don't want to be here, so I won't treat you like a little kid. But you've gotta level with me. This won't work otherwise. I know you know how to read and write and shit. I've seen your test scores from the past couple of years. You're a smart kid, Theo."

  His mouth popped open when I cursed, but he didn't interrupt, and for a kid acting out, whether it was from fear or stress or a need for attention, that was a big deal.

  "You don't have to tell me why you're turning in blank tests, but it's gonna piss me off if a smart kid like you throws away your education because of something going on inside your head."

  Theo went as still as a statue, blinking hard when I didn't continue. "I don't think teachers are supposed to talk to kids like that."

  "I'm not your teacher," I said. "Right now, I'm just the guy who's supposed to make sure you don't have to go back to fourth grade. And that means honesty from both of us. And trust." I stood from the bench and held out my hand again. "You can trust me, Theo. But only make a deal with me right now if I can trust you the same way."

  It never occurred to me, as a teacher and then later as an administrator, to talk to kids like they didn't have the same struggles as adults. They understood stress and fear and anxiety, albeit on a different scale, with different language behind it.

  That scale changed as you grew up. Your responsibilities took on a different face, and you knew how to label those struggles. But to them—at their age—the responsibilities still felt like the whole world was pressing down on their shoulders. It didn't help if the adults in their life pretended otherwise.

  So I knew I'd won something big when Theo Rossman stuck his skinny arm out toward me.

  He gave me a firm handshake, his cheeks turning pink when I returned it.

  "You sound like Iris," he said quietly.

  My heart skipped unsteadily in my chest at his use of that name.

  "Who's Iris?" I asked calmly. So very, very calmly. I'd only met one person in Green Valley with that name. And as far as I knew, she'd never come back. Not that anyone had told me, at least.

  "My sister. I live with her." He tucked his hand back in his pocket, his face softening as he answered. His love for her, even if it wasn't my Iris, was immediately clear.

  Behind my ribs, I felt a hot squeeze of pressure while my mind absolutely fucking raced.

  "I knew an Iris once." I watched his face as I said it. "She'd probably be about thirty-two now."

  His eyes narrowed, mental calculations evident in his face. "I think that's how old my sister is."

  My breathing was choppy, my lungs struggling to pull in enough oxygen. "The Iris I knew ... her last name wasn't Rossman."

  He kicked at a stick, so blissfully unaware that all my insides were jolting with unchecked pulses of electricity at the mere thought of it being her.

  "Yeah, she's my half-sister. She had a different dad, so she has a different last name."

  "What's your sister's last name?" I asked, fighting the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake the truth from his mouth.

  At the sound of a car, Theo's attention was pulled to the parking lot. In an instant, he transformed. Wide smile and happy, bright eyes as he waved at the driver of a beat-up-looking SUV. "That's her. Iris Black."

  I swiped a hand over my face and tried to check my breathing.

  Check my pulse.

  My ability to stay fucking conscious.

  This was it. All the sleepless nights I'd wondered if I'd ever see her again. Wondered how I'd ever walked away from her, why I believed her when she said she didn't have room for us in her life. If respecting her choice would damn me to a life that would always feel a little empty. Where every day held a slight edge of grief, something that might have worn down over the years but could still damage me if I caught it in the right way.

  The last time I saw Iris Black, she wept as she told me to leave. That she couldn't—wouldn't—make room in her life for some great big destined romance. That she couldn't—wouldn't—believe that it was true.

  The last time I saw her, I told her I'd love her for the rest of my life, whether she was in it or not. And I walked away all the same.

  And there it was.

  A gentle snap, a whisper-soft snick of something sliding back into place underneath my ribs. The shift of something that had been out of place since the last time I saw her. The realization came as quick as a thunderbolt and just as powerful. As I slowly turned toward the parking lot and she stepped out of the car, I knew this was the reason I'd come back to Green Valley.

  It was her.

  The one I'd loved since the moment I saw her.

  Who I hadn't seen in twelve years.

  The one staring at me like she'd just seen a ghost.

  CHAPTER 3

  IRIS

  Even in the years apart, I held on to one unrelenting bit of truth—I'd always know him. Would always and immediately recognize him. Something happened in my body when he was around. Something at the cellular level, even if it didn't seem scientifically possible.

  But that man, the one standing tall and strong and unsmiling next to my little brother, had a way of rearranging the universe around me. I breathed differently. My heart beat to a rhythm unique to him.

  And I'd forgotten.

  I'd forgotten the cut of his jaw. The piercing eyes.

  Hunter Buchanan was the most handsome son of a bitch who'd ever walked the earth, and even worse, his looks paled compared to the heart he had in that
big, strong chest.

  My body stayed locked in place, the car door a strange barricade while I tried to unlock my frozen hand from where it gripped the metal frame.

  His mouth moved, but I was just a bit too far away to hear his voice.

  "Iris."

  It was the only thing he said. His dark eyebrows bent in confusion, a big hand coming up to swipe over his mouth.

  Oh. I laid a hand over my heart and tried, with ice-cold desperation, not to burst into tears. To dive back into the car, peel out of the parking lot in a trail of burning rubber and dramatic smoke. The single thing that kept me from doing it was Theo.

  My brother was, and had been for years, my anchor. No matter what was going on around us, he was the thing that kept my head above water and what I'd work myself to the bone for.

  I pinched my eyes shut. It felt like I'd been standing there for hours, trying to gain control over the thrashing of my heart, but only seconds had passed. When I opened my eyes, Theo was looking up at Hunter, saying something with a big, happy smile on his face.

  One meeting, and Hunter had my brother—my wary, smart-ass brother—eating out of his hand.

  I blew out a slow breath and managed to pry my hand off the car frame. Hunter cataloged every movement with a banked hunger in his eyes, and that—oh, that look in his eyes—had my stomach trembling.

  With shaking hands, I smoothed back the stray wisps of hair as it swept over my face. My ponytail was a little sad after the past few hours of doing some sanding and cleaning. No doubt there were bags under my eyes from the choppy sleep I'd managed the night before. Normally, it didn't bother me, but suddenly, all I could think of was how I might have changed in his eyes.

  The wrinkles that hadn't been there before.

  The curves that appeared in my mid-twenties.

  And make no mistake, I had never felt the need to look perfect for any man. Not even this one. But there was a very particular sort of awareness when you walked toward the first—the only—man to truly love you.

  Hunter's eyes tracked down the front of my T-shirt, his lip quirking to the side when he saw what it said.