Read Online Never to Keep (Accepting Fate #1) by Aimie Grey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Aimie Grey
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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
“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
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