Remember When (Teach Me Book 3) Page 5

  I know I say this in every letter, but I can’t say it enough. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.

  You’re it for me, too. Always.

  I love you.

  Tate

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’M SERIOUSLY GOING TO QUIT,” Tate told Laney and Raine after school the following Monday. She had her head on her wooden desk, thudding softly against it in frustration.

  “Hey, stop that,” Raine scolded her. “You don’t need to add brain damage to your list of problems.”

  Lifting her head to look at them, she made a face. “I’m done. I can’t take it anymore. He’s an absolute idiot.”

  “Sweetie, we all know he’s an idiot. But you can’t let him make you quit. It’ll pass. Just wait until Mr. Pratt gets things under control. It’ll be fine,” Laney told her. Mr. Pratt, their principal, was an excellent administrator and exceptionally supportive of his teachers. He would always commiserate with them over the moronic parents who liked to cause trouble.

  The current problem Tate faced was a student’s father who thought that some of her tests—particularly the open book tests—were “too challenging”. Um, hello? The answers were right in front of them. All the students had to do was actually read to find the answers.

  Apparently, that was far too taxing. This particular student was incredibly lazy, didn’t put forth any effort whatsoever in her class, never took advantage of extra credit opportunities, and failed every single open book test she’d given. Somehow, though, this was Tate’s fault.

  According to the father, she was a “dumb, anorexic blonde who don’t know nothing about nothing”. That was an actual quote. Talk about an awkward encounter. He had been either a very close talker or had been trying to intimidate her by getting in her personal space. It was a toss-up.

  “Mr. Pratt will totally take care of him. You’ll see, honey.” Raine patted her hand comfortingly. Just then, her classroom door opened.

  “There’s three of my favorite teachers!” Their principal entered, the classroom door falling shut behind him. He glanced to be sure it was closed before his gaze zeroed in on Tate.

  “Donnelly, you know why I hired you, right?”

  Tate was caught off guard by the question and the serious expression on her boss’ face.

  “Um, because you needed a good social studies teacher for fourth grade?” she offered.

  He scoffed. “Because you’re a kick ass social studies teacher.”

  She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Thank you, sir.”

  Mr. Pratt folded his arms across his chest. “Now, repeat after me: I am here to teach and I won’t let morons stop me from doing that.”

  Smiling, she repeated it.

  Giving her a sympathetic smile, he continued. “Donnelly, you can’t let these idiots knock you down. It’s not your fault his kid has no drive.” His expression turned fierce. “I told that father he will not be permitted to approach you in any way, for any reason, unless I or one of the other male teachers is present.”

  Tate flashed her principal a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”

  “No worries.” He waved his hand. “Now, go home and have a drink, relax and come back to work for me again tomorrow.” He turned toward the door, calling over his shoulder, “Bye, ladies.”

  “Bye, Mr. Pratt,” they said as their principal exited the classroom.

  “See,” Laney looked at her knowingly, “told you he’d handle it.”

  “You need an impromptu ‘girls’ dinner night’?” Raine offered. They tried to get together periodically for girl talk, getting either sushi or subs and bringing their food with them to sit on the beach, just the three of them. It was trickier now that Laney and Raine were both in relationships, but they managed to do it at least every other month.

  Laney frowned. “Crap. I can’t. Zach and I are heading to dinner in Avondale. A guy who had been friends with Zach’s father back in the day invited us over. Sorry, Tate.” She flashed her an apologetic look.

  “No worries, ladies. I’m just going to go home and do some yoga and chill with some wine afterward.”

  “You sure?” Raine asked.

  She smiled at her friend. “I’m sure, sweetie. Thanks, though.” Tate stood from her chair and pulled her purse from inside her locked desk drawer, placing it in her large bag with her planner. “Thanks again for talking me down off the ledge.”

  “Anytime,” Laney said, winking at her before she walked to the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, sweetie. Call me if you need me,” Raine said, following Laney out the door.

  Tate walked over to the doorway after her friends had exited, turning off the lights, and stepping out into the hall to lock her classroom door before heading home.

  Her yoga mat was calling her name. So was a glass of wine. But, right then, it was a toss-up as to which one was calling her name louder.

  * * *

  Miller had just returned to the office upon facilitating a training on identifying security threats, especially those related to terrorism, at one of their contracted sites down in the Orange Park area. The training could have gone better had he not had to deal with two employees who had copped attitudes when he’d introduced himself and given his credentials. They had instantly tried to turn it into a pissing contest.

  Yeah, that was the kind of attitude he could do without. Combine that with traffic being an absolute bitch on I-295, regardless of how many so-called improvements were made to make traffic flow more smoothly, and his day had gone downhill pretty quick.

  Slumping into the chair at his desk, he opened the program on his computer and began typing up a report to record the interactions between himself and the two particular employees for documentation purposes. Foster had been working quietly at his desk, doing his usual ‘ignore Noelle’ thing, like always. He was certain that those two were probably going to kill each other one day.

  Foster’s phone vibrated against the desk, sounding loud in contrast to the room’s silence. Miller glanced over to see Foster reading what he assumed was a text message, frowning at it.

  “Everything okay?”

  His boss’ whiskey-colored eyes met Miller’s before returning to the phone, tapping out a response. “Yeah, man. Laney just wanted me to check on Tate after I get done here. Said she had a really shitty day but since she and Zach have some dinner thing in Avondale, she couldn’t check in on her. Thing is, I don’t know when I’ll get finished with this contract shit …” Foster trailed off as he tapped some more on the screen of his phone.

  Miller straightened. “What happened with Tate?”

  Foster’s attention remained on his phone. “Laney didn’t say. Just that Tate had a really shitty day. Enough that she wants me to check on her.” He looked up at him. “I hate to ask this, but do you think you could check on her? I just don’t know when I’ll get finished with this crap.” He gestured to the paperwork beside his computer.

  “Yeah, man. I just need to save this and print it out real quick.” He had already begun to do so as he spoke.

  Foster offered a grateful smile. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

  Miller reached over to the printer behind him, pulling off the papers and paper-clipping them. He stood from his desk chair and handed them to Foster.

  Accepting the paperwork from him he said, “Thanks, man.”

  Miller nodded in response, already distracted by his worry for Tate.

  “You know where she lives?”

  Oh, shit. This might be awkward. Because hell yes he knew where Tate Donnelly lived. Had known it from the moment he’d discovered she was best friends with Foster’s sister. Knew that she lived in a little, modest beach house down off of Ocean Avenue, just past Main Beach. Because, yeah, he had done a little recon after they had all left after eating dinner at Momma K.’s house one night. And, by a little recon, he meant he had followed her home. He chose to ignore how stalkerish that move had been, allowing curiosi
ty to get the best of him.

  “Um, I think one of the girls might have mentioned it once before …” He trailed off in an attempt to appear like he was thinking, trying to recall the exact information.

  First mistake: Never try to bullshit another SEAL.

  Foster raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really?” The two men stared at one another for a long moment before Miller finally broke.

  Damn it.

  He turned toward the door, ignoring the laughter. “I’m heading out now.”

  “Later, stalker,” Foster called out. Miller didn’t reply as he exited through the door. Nope.

  He figured his middle finger said enough.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TATE WAS FINISHING UP HER solo yoga session on the back deck of her house. Doing yoga while the salty breeze from the Atlantic Ocean drifted over her was one of her favorite things. Growing up where there hadn’t been an ocean in sight nor nearly year-round sunny weather to be had, she found she had an addiction-like reaction to living in Florida. Living near the beach fed a part of her soul, and she couldn’t imagine living elsewhere.

  She began rolling up her yoga mat, grabbing a small towel to pat at the sheen of sweat on her upper chest and forehead. It was September, but in Florida that meant it could still be in the eighties. With a ton of humidity, no less.

  With the mat under her arm and towel tossed over her shoulder, she pulled open the sliding glass door. Stepping inside the house, she exhaled a long breath at the feel of the cool air hitting her warm skin. Just as she set her mat down in the corner, a solid knock sounded at her door. Tate’s lips curled up into a small smile, thinking it was Raine coming to check on her. Laney had already sent her a few text messages to let her know she’d been thinking of her.

  Padding over to the front door, unlocking and opening it, she greeted her friend, “Tired of Mac al—” She broke off in shock. Because it wasn’t Raine standing before her.

  It was Miller Vaughn.

  She felt the intensity of his gaze as he watched her carefully. “Sorry if you were expecting someone else. Foster sent me to check on you. Laney had asked him to, but he’s buried at work.”

  Startled by the fact that it was Miller standing before her, she took in those mesmerizing blue eyes and full lips.

  “Tate?” His voice drew her gaze from his lips back to his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Miller’s head cocked to the side and she prayed he hadn’t noticed where her eyes had lingered.

  “Are you okay? Foster’s caught up at work so he asked me to check on you, per Laney’s orders.”

  “I’m okay. Thanks.” Good God. If this conversation became any more awkward … “Sorry you had to make a special trip.” Her gaze narrowed, noticing his eyes had drifted downward to her chest. Did she have a nasty sweat mark or some—

  Oh, holy hellaciousness. His eyes had caught sight of her nipples which were now hardened points due to the sweat becoming chilled on her skin. Thank you, air conditioning. She slapped an arm across her chest, returning her gaze to his. Attempting some bravado, her eyebrow arched.

  “Well, as you can see, I’m fine. I have to run and get changed now. So … uh, thanks for stopping by.” She began to close the door. A strong, tanned arm shot out, fingers splayed flat against the door, bringing it to a halt.

  “I’ve never seen your place. You’ve seen mine. Surely, you wouldn’t make an old friend leave before giving the ol’ ten cent tour.” He gave her a beseeching look.

  Old friend? That’s what he was calling them now? Riiiiight. Rolling her eyes, she threw an arm out, gesturing to the interior of the home. He stepped inside and she closed the door behind him.

  “Fine. I’m going to throw on a shirt. By the time I come back out, you’ll be done with your ‘tour’ and ready to head home …” She trailed off with a pointed look before turning in the direction of her bedroom, walking down the hall.

  And on the way to her bedroom, a sense of longing plagued her.

  Because deep down—waaay deep down—a part of her wanted him to stay.

  * * *

  He knew he was a complete dick for staring at Tate’s breasts, but those nipples had been pressing against the fabric of her sports bra, as if begging to be released. For him to take them in his hand, run his thumbs over them, put his mouth on—

  Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck. He had to snap out of it. The last thing he needed was to be caught snooping around her living room with a damn hard-on. If that didn’t scream creepy, he wasn’t sure what did.

  Shaking off his errant thoughts, looking around her kitchen and living room, he felt like something was off. Refocusing, he scanned the open-concept layout of the small beach home and it dawned on him.

  He had expected to see photos of her parents, either on the walls or perched on the modest entertainment center in the living room. The crease between his brows deepened as he surveyed his surroundings once more. There were an assortment of fun, happy photographs of Tate with the girls at the beach, some with Cassie, her former college roommate, a group of them celebrating birthdays out at the bar, out at dinner, and a few from Raine and Mac’s wedding. Not a single photograph of her parents was among them. Did she have a falling out with them? That thought baffled him since Tate had always been so close to her parents. Then again, it had been well over a decade since he’d actually known her, spoken to her.

  Is that what she’d meant the other night? “They’re my family, Miller. They’re all I’ve got.”

  Well, hell. Miller wearily scrubbed a hand over his face. That thought was utterly depressing. Especially considering she was all the way down in Florida while her parents remained in Ohio. Some serious shit must have gone down for Tate and her parents to stop speaking altogether. They had been one of the most tight-knit families he’d ever known.

  The strongest urge to protect her washed over him. To protect her from what, he wasn’t sure. He just knew the idea of Tate not having the support of her actual family didn’t sit well with him. He and Tate had been like a family all those years ago, back when he’d believed she would be his wife one day. As trying as it might be at times, he could find it within himself to push aside the pain of the past to be there for her. Because, back in high school, she had been there for him, had seen past his jock image. Had seen the young boy inside who loved learning, reading, bettering himself. She hadn’t allowed him to be defined by his quarterback status.

  Tate emerged from the hallway, walking into the living room wearing a loose fitting shirt, covering up her amazing breasts in that sports bra, hiding her flat, toned stomach. Miller felt himself protest inwardly at being robbed of that view.

  “Okay. Well, time to head on out.” She gave him an overly bright smile, tilting her head toward the door.

  “Have you eaten dinner?” he heard himself ask.

  Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?

  Miller watched Tate as she clearly struggled for an answer. For an excuse. He could still read her like an open book. Some things never changed.

  “Look, we both know you’re probably hungry even if you’ve already eaten dinner. So, why don’t we go get some sushi?” He found himself hoping—praying—she’d agree. He didn’t know why it felt so vital that she have dinner with him, it just was. And, he knew from back then, as well as from what he’d gleaned from the others, that she still loved sushi.

  Tate rolled her lips inward and he knew he had her. She couldn’t resist sushi. She was trying, but he knew how to remedy that. He decided to seal the deal.

  “We can head over to Island Kabuki, if you like.” Oh, yeah. Her eyes definitely lit up at that. Island Kabuki was the best sushi joint in Fernandina Beach.

  Tate glanced down at her attire. “I’m not really dressed for that place.”

  He gave her a look. “Please. You look fine. Slap on some deodorant and we can head on out.”

  She averted her gaze, her cheeks pinkening slightly. “I already did,” she mumbled. />
  Ah. Had she put it on for my benefit?

  “Then, let’s go, Donnelly. The green dragon roll waits for no one.” He turned to head toward the front door as she followed behind, pausing to slide on her flip flops and grab her wrist wallet and keys from small table in the entryway by the door.

  As they got into his Jeep, he couldn’t help but wonder if he were to reach across the console and take her hand in his like he used to, would it feel the same? Would her hand be as soft as it had been all those years ago? The mere thought of it brought on a sudden tightness in his chest.

  And, the entire drive to the restaurant, he fought the urge to find out.

  Dear Miller,

  I hope this letter finds you doing well … and that it actually gets to you. Not sure why they’re getting returned. I checked to make sure the address was correct each time. Hopefully, it’s just been some weird snafu with the post office. Totally not trying to be a bother, but if you get a chance to write back or call, you have no idea how awesome that would be.

  I miss you so much. Cassie made fun of me for wearing that one hooded sweatshirt of yours since it’s huge on me. But, I love it and it reminds me of you so … What I wouldn’t give to be able to hug you and have you hold me in your arms.

  I have to run and get to my tutoring job. I’m tutoring the kicker for our football team. He’s actually a pretty cool guy but has a super tough time with dyslexia. It makes me feel good that I can help him out. He said he’d heard about your stats in high school and how impressive they were. I thought that was pretty cool.

  Cassie said to get your ass in gear and write back. You know her. Gotta love her mouthiness, right?

  I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.

  You’re it for me. Always.

  Tate

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “SO, YOU CHECKED ON TATE the other night?”

  Miller kept his head down, focused on the paperwork before him as Foster continued, “How’d that work out?”