Wild Angel

One Why am I still putting myself through this? Luke wondered as he walked through the front doors of the high school. It was like walking out of reality and into a nightmare. Familiar, nauseating dread hit him like a punch to the stomach, but he forced himself to stride down the first floor hallway. He headed toward the offices, taking in the blue linoleum tiles and tan lockers with conflicting impressions of homecoming and rejection. Above the service window of the front office hung two photographs captioned with “In Loving Memory.” The first was a picture of Michael Thompson wearing a navy-and-gold football jersey emblazoned with his number three. Luke studied the confident, not-quite-smiling face that would never age and never smile or scowl or cry again and wondered, as he always did, what Mike might have accomplished in his life had it not been cut so brutally short. He wondered, too, what Mike would have thought about the way their former teachers had relegated Luke to the shadows, to forever be second best despite all his accomplishments simply because he’d had the opportunity to achieve them. The photograph beside Mike’s was of Carol Landers. Staring at her lovely, youthful face, it was impossible not to see her as he last had, with dead eyes and a hole in her chest. He shuddered. All the things they’d never had a chance to say rushed through his mind, and he pinched his eyes closed. How different would things be if Mike and Carol hadn’t been murdered? “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his khaki slacks and headed into the conference room. Mercifully, no one else had arrived yet. Dread curled more tightly around him, so he dropped his bag on a table, dragged one of his textbooks, his planner, and a notebook from his bag, slipped his reading glasses on, and sat down to review his lesson plans. He didn’t need to go over them again. He needed the distraction. Moments later, someone entered the room, but he didn’t look up immediately. Feeling eyes on him, he finally lifted his gaze to find Ryan Connelly watching him from the refreshments table. She stirred her coffee with a thin red straw and studied him unabashedly. They had both started teaching four years ago, and though she hadn’t gone out of her way to get to know him, there was a gentleness and compassion about her that appealed to him. She was attractive in other ways, too, with long blonde hair currently pulled back into a ponytail, intriguing sage-green eyes, and a slender build that was more athletic than curvy but invitingly feminine. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Good morning,” he replied. “Ready for classes to start?” “Mostly.” It was never the classes or the students that were the problem, he thought bitterly, but he didn’t get the chance to say it. Greg Wells, the head football coach and athletic director, walked in and sat beside him, effectively ending his brief and stilted conversation with Ryan Connelly. With a polite smile, she excused herself and took a seat at a different table. Luke clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the sting of disappointment, wishing he could just take a chance and invite her to…. To what? Join him in exile? He shook his head and looked away from the pretty English teacher. “Here we go again, huh?” Coach Wells asked. “Have you had a chance to watch the teams practice yet?” Luke almost groaned. This conversation had become a ritual between them, and it cut him a little more deeply each time it played out. He wanted more than anything to take Greg Wells up on his offer to coach football, but he couldn’t. It was hard enough getting through each school year without the added attention coaching would undoubtedly bring. “Please don’t ask me again.” “I could really use your help, Luke. You were the best player I’ve ever had the pleasure of coaching.” “Past tense, Coach. I was.” Luke dropped his head into his palm and sighed. “I’m not going to have time this season. I have Alex—” “Who is on the team. Because you convinced him to play, I might add.” If he were anywhere else, Luke would have smiled at that. Alex had been with him since mid June, and the fourteen-year-old found new ways to impress him every day. He was polite, respectful, and did whatever was asked of him without complaint. Considering why he was in foster care instead of with his mother, Luke was all the more amazed. So was Coach Wells, who had lauded Alex’s heart and perseverance during two-a-day practices. “You can’t use Alex as an excuse,” Greg continued. “Next?” “I have the long-term sub to mentor.” “You’re mentoring her? Why’d you volunteer for that?” “I didn’t. Dr. Medina and Anna both asked me. What was I supposed to do? Tell them no?” Coach Wells shook his head. “I suppose not. I hope you’ll at least come to a couple practices and the home games this year since your foster son is playing.” “I’ll be at the home games to watch Alex,” Luke confirmed. Coach Wells clapped him on the shoulder before politely excusing himself to get a cup of coffee and take a seat at the administrators’ table. Luke drummed his fingers on his head. There was no point in considering Coach Wells’ plea when the future of his teaching career was in doubt. And it was. He was sick of all the whispers and outright animosity from the other teachers—especially those he’d had as a student here. He might not have fired the g*n, but in their eyes, JP’s obsession with him was the reason Mike and Carol were dead, and that made him just as responsible. “He’s back again. I’m shocked.” That exact thought had crossed Ryan’s mind when she’d walked into the conference room and spotted Luke Conner sitting alone at his table, but instead of the disdain that dripped from Lauren Johnson’s comment, her thought had been a mixture of surprise, relief, and a spark of something else that made her pulse jump. He was a distractingly sexy man with that boyishly handsome face, watchful blue eyes, golden-blond hair, and the hint of a toned body beneath the loose-fitting clothing. His hairstyle—a bowl cut without bangs—was dated, but it suited him, and she liked the way he occasionally raked his fingers through it. She also liked that he refused to stoop to the pettiness of those who harassed him. Honestly, there was a lot about him she liked. That was dangerous. Luke Conner was off limits. She refused to have her heart broken again, especially by someone who had once been a friend and teammate of the man who had broken it the first time. She had ignored her attraction to Luke for four years, and she would go right on ignoring it and the powerful urge to jump to his defense every time Lauren Johnson or any of the others made a snide remark about him, like they were right now. Lauren and the two other teachers at their table chattered away about Luke, commenting on everything from his mental stability to his weight and even his s****l preferences. Snarling more with each ridiculous statement, Ryan struggled to ignore the conversation and hold her tongue. Their depictions of the quiet man just didn’t mesh with what she knew of him. Callous? Not a chance. He had shown her nothing in the last four years that would make her believe that, and Greg Wells, whose opinion she trusted over those of the teachers at her table, held nothing but pride and respect for him. When Ruby Ellsworth again insinuated that Luke Conner was overweight, Ryan glanced at the man in question. The thought that the old English teacher needed to have her eyes checked fizzled when Ryan caught Luke watching them with a strange intensity. Their comments obviously bothered him, so why didn’t he contradict them? With the urge to speak up threatening to overwhelm her, she reminded herself of her promise to remain uninvolved. While none of the others at her table were more than acquaintances, they were friendly to her, and she suspected that might end if she actively took Luke’s side. When he met her gaze and she saw a blatant plea, Ryan clenched her fists. Nothing about this situation was right, and maybe it wasn’t her problem to deal with, but she was a coward for sitting silently by. To hell with it. She turned to her companions and snapped, “I cannot believe that you have nothing better to do with your time than gossip about Mr. Conner.” The three teachers stared blankly at her with their mouths open. “What is your problem?” Lauren asked at last, eyeing Ryan with a sneer. “Take a look at the way you treat him, and you’ll know exactly what my problem is. Excuse me.” Since the damage was already done, she gathered her things and walked over to Luke’s table. The flash of gratitude on his face was so fleeting that she couldn’t be sure she’d seen it, but she nodded briefly in acknowledgement. “Mind if I join you?” she asked quietly. He gestured for her to sit. As she slid into a chair, she exhaled slowly and smiled. Right was right, and it felt good to finally say something. At that moment, she couldn’t be troubled to worry about the consequences of her actions. Gratification melded with the loneliness she was usually much better at ignoring, and she decided she’d rather have Luke as a friend than Lauren Johnson, Rick Dresden, Ruby Ellsworth, or any of the rest who could treat a coworker so cruelly. Right then, Dr. Medina arrived and called the meeting to order. Moments later, the principal was interrupted by the tardy arrival of the long-term sub. The young woman tried to slip into the conference room unnoticed, but just as she slid into the seat beside Luke—directly beside him, Ryan noted, as if he were a shield—Dr. Medina paused to introduce her. If the young woman’s blush was any indication, she had also noticed the principal’s subtle reprimand. Ryan felt a brief twinge of sympathy for the girl. When the meeting was over, Dr. Medina directed everyone to the class sponsor, club, and athletic meetings. Janelle Daniels excused herself and trotted after the principal. Moments later, Jordan Banks—the second oldest science teacher after Anna—strode over, planted his hands on the table, and leaned menacingly toward Luke. “I offered weeks ago to mentor whatever sub Medina hired, and you, what, just waltz into his office and ask to do it?” he asked with a sneer. “You won’t get department head when Anna retires next year.” “I never said I wanted it,” Luke replied. “You think you’re hot stuff, Conner?” “No, Mr. Banks, I don’t. I’m just trying to do my job.” Luke gathered his things and stood. “Excuse me.” Without another word, he left. “Cocky SOB, isn’t he?” Ryan stared at Mr. Banks for a moment. “Actually, he was rather humble. You, on the other hand….” She slung her bag over her shoulder and left before he could respond. She had to jog to catch up to Luke, whose long strides had already carried him halfway down the long main hall. They were both junior class sponsors this year, so she’d be spending the next half hour with him, but she wanted to talk to him alone for a minute. “Mr. Conner.” He continued walking. “Luke, please wait.” At that, he stopped and turned so quickly that she nearly smacked in to him. Standing less than a foot from him, she raised her gaze. She knew he was tall, but she hadn’t ever been close enough to realize that he was a good ten inches taller than her five and a half feet. The top couple of buttons on his cornflower-blue shirt were open, revealing a peek of pristine white T-shirt, and she wondered if a friendship with Luke was possible despite his connection to her ex. It might, she mused, if she could find a way to ignore the desire to peel off those shirts and find out what he looked like beneath them. Her heart beat a little faster when she met his questioning gaze.