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Some Of Myself
Some Of Myself
Some Of Myself
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Some Of Myself

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"I can't do this again," she cried. "I can't. It'll be like last time, and my life will be ruined. I just wanted to start over."

 

"Shh. No, it won't. You have me."

 

The last thing Eden Riske expected when she came home was the discernment of fellow teacher Austin Lowell. Football coach, history teacher, fitness buff, Austin is strength and patience in a handsome package.

 

However, it seems even his presence can't stop the rumors swirling around her or the hatred of someone determined to do her harm. But this job is supposed to be her salvation, her way out of her troubled past.

 

Except now, everything is falling apart, and the one thing that might destroy her is the very secret she's held inside for so long.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 13, 2022
ISBN9798201179908
Some Of Myself
Author

Suzanne D. Williams

Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

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    Some Of Myself - Suzanne D. Williams

    PROLOGUE

    End of July

    Break, Austin Lowell clapped his hands and waved the crowd of exhausted football players in his direction.

    Faces lined with sweat, mouths agape, the high school varsity team leaned reddened palms on grass-covered knees and waited for his next statement.

    "Good practice today. But as our last, I want it to serve as a reminder how hard this year will be. I will not bend on the effort I’m requiring from you, physically or mentally. Your schoolwork has to be kept up with passing grades." He stressed the word passing. I’m also keeping a watch this year for incorrect behavior.

    He scanned the disparate group. Having recovered their breath, some had straightened, removing dampened shirts.

    We had some misconduct last year, which will not be tolerated this year. Period. If you misstep, you’re off the team.

    Coach, get Everett to pay more attention to the game and less to the girls then.

    Austin focused on the speaker. Mark Raines. Raines felt that way because the girl Everett had focused on was his, and from Austin’s recollection, she’d dumped him soon after.

    "Everyone needs to pay attention to the game, he said, in consolation. Otherwise we’ll not make it to finals, like last year." That had been disheartening and frustrating for everyone, to come so close and fail.

    A hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned. His assistant coach, Gus Rouse, stood a few feet behind. A reminder about practice in two weeks?

    Austin nodded. "Tuesday of the first week of school is our first scheduled practice. Do not be late. Now, off to the showers." The group broke up, players straggling from the field, and Austin turned to gather equipment.

    The sight of Everett lagging behind brought him to a halt. Jenkins, here, he said, waving him forward.

    Everett Jenkins was a broad-shouldered six-foot senior playing defense on Edgemont High’s football team. He was a good player, a not so good student, and a boy with loose morals and a wild tongue.

    Everett ambled across the well-trodden grass, falling in at Austin’s side. Austin rested his hands on his hips. "I don’t care what you do with your social life in your spare time, but you will leave it off the field this year."

    Everett’s expression was a half-snarl, not too unusual for him. As was the snappy response. Can’t help that I’m irresistible.

    Austin bit back a retort. Kids like Everett showed up every three years. One would graduate, and the next would arrive. They all shared similar traits:  broken homes, little parental support, and a whole lot of testosterone and ego they couldn’t cope with.

    He’d been there. He was young once and full of himself. Austin Lowell against the world, his mom used to say. It wasn’t until he’d fallen flat on his face that he’d realized he’d messed up. He liked to think he could guide Everett into becoming a better man, but anymore, it wasn’t possible. Society’s ever-expanding allowances gave kids too many ways out.

    Leave it off the field, Austin repeated. Now, go.

    Everett took up a lengthened stride and disappeared behind the grandstands. Austin went back to gathering the scattered things.

    Social life. Now, there’s something he hadn’t had in a while. He used to date; go out partying all night and bring a girl home. But not anymore. As nice as it was to have a woman in his life, it wasn’t a priority now. Instead, life was his job, his players, and the students in his history class.

    He bagged the practice balls and stuck his clipboard under his arm. Another year. Another dollar, he mumbled on his way toward the locker room.

    CHAPTER 1

    Two Weeks Later

    Two knocks on the metal door frame dragged Austin’s attention up from the paperwork scattered over his desktop and into the familiar round face of his friend and fellow teacher, Joe Davis. Joe perched there, one leg in the hallway, one stretched into the room, looking much like a stork hunting its prey. Austin’s lips pulled back in a smile.

    Rumor has it ... Joe began, weaving his way around the students’ empty desks.

    Dropping his pen onto the forms, Austin reclined in his chair, the seat back flexing with his weight. I don’t indulge in rumors, he said.

    Joe scooted to a halt at the edge of the desk and perched himself on one corner. Oh, but this one you’ll want to hear. The overhead fluorescent light flickered, casting a white reflective line on Joe’s bald pate.

    Austin rolled his hand outwards in a go on gesture.

    Rumor has it, Joe began again, the new Health teacher is a complete babe.

    And where’d you hear that?

    Sweat popped out on Joe’s brow; he made no effort to wipe it away. Tracy in Admin.

    If Tracy in Admin said it then it probably was true, but still—

    You and Tracy need some time apart, Austin replied.

    Joe grinned. Aw, c’mon, history nut, you know you wanna know what she told me.

    I only want to know if she’s qualified and can do her job.

    Joe’s grin changed to a smirk. You and your morals. You look like a red-blooded American male to me, and after I tell you this, you’ll be as interested as I am.

    Austin gave a soft huff and wagged his head. There was no stopping Joe Davis. If it was female, he’d chase it.

    Joe rubbed his paunch.

    So ... Austin said.

    Joe’s grin returned. "I knew you’d want to know. Tracy says she was a UCLA cheerleader and ..." He stressed the word and. "And she was in a photo spread for a major sports magazine. Some piece they did on cheerleaders across this good ol’ U.S. of A."

    Austin sat forward, and the seat back clicked in place. He picked up his pen. Is that all? Scribbling on the page before him, he attempted to ignore Joe.

    But Joe hovered.

    "Is that all? Joe asked, incredulous. I bring you this juicy tidbit, and you’d rather do paperwork?"

    Austin glanced up at him. How do you sleep at night?

    Joe laughed. I have vivid dreams, that’s how. He stood up from the desk. Don’t tell me Austin Lowell, fellow ex-Texan, buff football coach, and lonely bachelor, doesn’t sometimes miss having a little sumpin-sumpin in his bed.

    Austin made no response.

    Oh, that’s right. You’ve put your wild past behind you. Well, I think I can change your mind because I have proof. Joe extracted his cell phone from his pocket and tapped on the screen. He spun it around and slid it onto the desk.

    Austin’s eyes widened, and he gave a long, slow whistle.

    Meet Eden Riske, Joe said, the new Health teacher at Edgemont High.

    Eden Riske was stunning. A thick mane of black hair framed an oval face with two jewel-toned blue eyes. And that mouth. He gulped. Full bow-shaped lips.

    Houston, we have a problem, Austin remarked. He wiped his palms on the legs of his khaki pants.

    Now, you know what we’re up against, Joe said. Every teenage male in the place will be salivating at her feet.

    Austin stared until the phone went dark and then handed it back to Joe. That face was the stuff a man’s dreams were made of, not one expected to walk into a high school and teach a health class.

    Knowledge smacked him full in the face.

    Dear God, he said. She teaches health? His blood drained from his head down into his shoes. That means ... means ...

    Yep. Joe nodded. Sex-ed.

    Hips like a tractor trailer. I swear. Adam Riske held his hands four feet apart.

    Eden arched an eyebrow.

    Okay, maybe more like this. He adjusted the distance closer. And I was thinking, ‘Put the hamburger down.’

    She gave a short laugh and returned her gaze to the cereal bowl, taking another bite. If only she could swallow her qualms as easily.

    So, this ‘secret’ job of yours ... you ready to tell me what it is? he asked.

    Milk dribbled onto her chin, and she mopped it with one finger.

    No. Maybe tomorrow. A smile faltered on her lips.

    His expression changed, the lines growing longer. Seriously, sis, is it that bad?

    Bad, no. Then again—

    Just not where I thought my life was headed. She squeezed down her regrets and took another bite. For a moment, the only sound in her ears was herself chewing, but even that was preferable to her gloomy thoughts.

    Her spoon clinked against the side of the bowl.

    Promise me it’s safe, he said, or I’m following you and finding out on my own.

    She pushed her bowl away. "It’s safe. I do have a college degree, you know."

    Yeah, yeah, and you’re more than a pretty face. He tapped her chin with one hand. "That’s the problem. You are a pretty face. The male population loses its mind with you around."

    One side of her mouth turned up. Then that should assure you I’ll be fine. Someone will swoop in to help.

    Right, he huffed, and they’ll be lapping the floor in your wake.

    He stood to his feet and reached for his cap, his truck keys catching the light. A man’s work is never done. He turned as he said this, facing the back door. I’m off. Maybe something exciting will happen today. Maybe I’ll see someone famous.

    More likely just Mr. Syvertsen, she said to his back.

    He flicked a glance over his shoulder and laughed. Have you seen him since you’ve been back?

    She nodded. At the grocery buying beer. Where else?

    He returned his head forward. Man’s either gonna live forever to spite everyone or go out in a blaze of glory. I’m hoping for the second one. He took two steps. Oh ... Staci’s coming over for dinner. Hope that’s all right.

    Staci Walden, soon to be Staci Riske. Eden nodded, and Adam gave a backwards wave, locking the door behind him.

    Living with her older brother wasn’t ideal, but they got along well enough. Plus, he did have the extra space. Informing him she was coming home had been awkward, however.

    Home? Why? he’d asked.

    Why? Because she had to. She hadn’t said that, instead spouting something about career paths and rethinking herself.

    I have a job, she’d told him. That was part of her excuse.

    A job? I thought being pretty was your job, he’d replied.

    That would’ve been funny, except it wasn’t.

    No, a job with actual hours and a paycheck.

    She’d stalled then, not telling him where or what, her fear being he’d explode and refuse to let her go. He’d always been over-protective, and the thought of his little sister — his cheerleader-slash-model sister — teaching a classroom full of high school students would send him over the edge. Her teaching health would cap that off.

    She heard his voice in her head. You are not teaching boys sex-ed.

    Well, it wasn’t sex-ed. It was health:  good eating habits, proper exercise, with a section on reproduction thrown in. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to that part, but she’d manage. How hard could it be? It’d pay the bills, and perhaps one day twenty years from now she’d be out of debt and on her own.

    She wandered down the long hallway to her bedroom. Plopping down on the bed, she stared at her reflection. Her dark locks stuck out every which way on her head and her cheek shone red where she’d slept on it. She brushed her fingers over her skin and sighed.

    Hello, class, she said. My name is Miss Riske, and we’re going to learn about our bodies.

    Austin

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