“I’m sorry,” I said to Mr. James. “He tends to stay up too late at night. It’s an issue we’ve been working on.”
“Teenagers need at least ten hours of sleep every night, Miss Monroe.”
“I’m aware.”
He nodded even as the pinched look of irritation crossed his face. He leaned back against his desk, his arms crossed once again, and stared at me with that look that teachers often get when they think a student is purposely ignoring his instructions.
“JT is a brilliant student. I’ve discussed him with his other teachers, and they all feel that if he tried a little harder, he would likely be on the honor roll. But, for some reason, JT feels the need to goof off in class. He’s often either sleeping, or playing the class clown. He rarely turns in homework. But when he does, it’s often far above expectations. Just this week he turned in an essay that easily could have been written by a college student. I had to run it through plagiarism software twice to make sure he wrote it.”
“Our father was a literature professor. JT’s been reading since he was three.”
Mr. James’ eyebrows rose. “May I ask what’s going on at home that might be causing JT’s behavioral issues?”
I sat back a little, once again feeling like a teenager being dressed down by a superior. I reached up and tugged at my ponytail.
“My parents died in a car accident three years ago. I have custody of JT. We’re doing the best we can, but things are a little chaotic between his school schedule, his football responsibilities, and the bakery.”
“Bakery?”
“The family business. It’s our only source of income, so it’s pretty important that I keep it running.”
“It’s also important that JT be supervised properly.”
The implication in that statement made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I straightened again, my eyes narrowed as I regarded this outsider, this teacher who had no idea what it was to grow up and live in a small town.
“I do the best I can, Mr. James. I realize his behavior leaves a little to be desired, but he’s essentially a good kid who’s gone through a lot of crap these last few years. We’re both struggling to make things work, but we are making things work. I will talk to him about sleeping in your class.”
I stood up and brushed past him on my way to the door was all set to slam the door on my way out. But then he spoke, final words that I’d been afraid of hearing for three years, but never really thought I would.
“If things don’t improve, Miss Monroe, I’ll be forced to contact child protective services to make sure JT’s home life is not endangering his wellbeing.”
Chapter 2
Harrison
I watched her walk out the door without responding to my parting words. I wanted to grab her and force her to respond. I wanted to…she was not what I’d expected. I’d known the adoptive parents had died. My investigator was able to uncover impressive details on Dale and Robin Monroe with what little information Julia managed to get from the adoption agency, earning much more than the outrageous fee he charged. Within weeks of learning I had a son, I had pictures and addresses and credit scores and death certificates. Everything I needed to locate him. I’d been ready to march in and claim him as my own. I never signed adoption papers. I never gave up my parental rights. A good lawyer, and I could have been awarded custody in a matter of weeks.
But Libby wouldn’t allow it.
He’s fifteen, Harrison. He’s grown up with this identity, as Jonathon Monroe. You march in there and take him away, and you’ll destroy the one thing that we all hold dearest: his identity. You have to do this slowly, let him adjust to the idea of having you in his life before you steal him away from the only family, the only life, he’s ever known.
That was the problem with Libby. Her arguments were always so logical that there was no arguing with her. So, I decided to come to this little town to meet him. But I needed a reason to be here, an excuse to make myself a part of his life. It was a happy coincidence that the school had just lost their freshman English teacher and I happen to have a master’s degree in literature. It was a simple thing to arrange to become a Texas certified teacher and simpler yet to get hired on at a school where few of the teachers had better than a bachelor’s degree.
The first time JT walked into my classroom…seeing photographs of him were nothing like seeing him in the flesh. I recognized myself more in him than I thought I would. He had Julia’s blue eyes, but the dark hair, the heavy jaw, that was all me. It surreal, really. I was a little afraid that he would take one look at me and know who I was. But he barely looked at me, more interested in the blond cheerleader who sat in front of him than anything else.