The Teacher

16: WREN

Arriving at Skylar's place, I enter his house like a thief in an old Cartoon Network show. I'm slowly walking on my tippy toes. I scan around his foyer, looking for any sign of his daughters. I know it's almost one thirty in the morning, but children are unpredictable. Skylar says nothing as he walks upstairs, and I follow. We walk down the hallway in silence. I see a pink door with Isbella's name written in cursive, then a teal door with Gabriella's name in the same font. Skylar doesn't stop to check in on them and leads us to a plain black door.

I don't need to ask if this is his room when he opens the door. I can smell it. His scent covers the entire room as I stand in the threshold. "Where is the guest bedroom? Preferably one not on this floor."

He pulls me inside, closing the door. "I know I made myself clear. You will sleep with me." I can't sleep with him. "You're not in control here, Wren." His voice is low and firm. Skylar steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he closes the space between us. "You need to understand something," he continues, brushing a loose curl behind my ear. "You're under my roof, in my world. Here, I set the rules."

Fucking Crayola, I'm going to cave in; stay strong, Wren!

I swallow hard, trying to muster the courage that so boldly defines me at school in front of my first graders. "Skylar, I'm not one of your employees you can control." My voice barely rises above a whisper, but I try to keep it firm. "I'm here because I'm locked out of my house. Nothing more, nothing less. Besides, your daughters are home."

"They are always home; that's nothing new."

Before I can respond, a sudden knock on the bedroom door interrupts us. It's soft but persistent. "Daddy?" a small voice calls through the wood, and I can tell it's Gabby even before Skylar sighs deeply and moves to open it.

There she stands, her light brown hair tousled from sleep, clutching a stuffed bear against her chest. "I had a bad dream," she murmurs, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

Shit, should I hide before she notices I'm here. In her house. In her daddy's room. I don't want to make any sudden movements, drawing her attention. So, I do as any fucking deer in headlights would do. I stand there.

He kneels down to her level, sweeping her into his arms and murmuring soothing words. I watch, my heart squeezing tight at the tenderness of the scene. Reminds me of when I was younger. My dad was and will always be my superhero.

"Let me tuck you back in," he whispers to her. Then, glancing over his shoulder at me, he adds, "Excuse us, Wren."

I nod silently, folding my arms across my chest as I watch them disappear down the hall. Alone in his room now, I'm aware of how intimate this space is—his clothes in the open closet, his books on the nightstand. It feels invasive to be here without him. Hell, I shouldn't be in here with him either.

I should just move to another room and lock the door. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'm sure Skylar is smart not to break down a door in the middle of the night. After a few minutes that feel like an eternity of contemplating my next step, I quickly walk out of the room and into the farthest room on this floor. Opening the door, I pray it's a guest room, and it is.

I shut the door quietly behind me, locking it and leaning against it, my heart still pounding. The guest room is lit by the moonlight filtering through sheer curtains, casting soft shadows across the plush carpet and the neatly made bed. I exhale slowly, trying to steady my racing thoughts.

How the hell am I going to get out of the place in the morning without his daughters seeing me? Oh, fucking Crayola. This is not what I signed up for. I just wanted to fuck their daddy, not be in a relationship with him. My mind races back to earlier in the evening. The way Skylar's touch ignited something primal within me, his gaze piercing through my defenses. But now, surrounded by the softness and quiet of this guest room, everything feels surreal and, dare I say, wrong.