Hard To Handle (Teach Me Book 2) (28 page)

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
HREE

I
T WAS SIX O’CLOCK ON
a Monday evening and Laney had already called in sick for Tuesday. That, in itself, was unheard of because all teachers knew it was more work to prepare plans and materials for a substitute teacher. You had to have an updated seating chart—that thing was always changing—lesson plans detailed enough that even a bum off the streets could understand them, extra activities—because students always magically finished their work in less than five seconds that particular day—and a list of names of students to keep separated due to behavior issues, students who abused restroom privileges, students who were the designated ‘helpers’ that particular week, et cetera. But none of this even fazed Laney. Which spoke volumes.

She was currently watching the movie
Love Actually,
and had gotten to the part where Karen realizes the necklace she’d found in the pocket of her husband’s jacket wasn’t for her. Laney had just opened up box number three of tissues because her tear ducts were acting absolutely ridiculous. She hadn’t cried this much since … well, since her father had left.

Her doorbell rang, startling her and causing Laney to glance at the overflowing trash bin she’d pulled nearby the couch she was curled up on. She knew her eyes were red and swollen, could feel the puffiness of the skin around them. And her nose was raw from wiping and blowing it. She was a freaking snotty, hot mess and in no way fit for company so she proceeded to ignore the doorbell.

Scratch that. She tried to ignore it. Until someone decided to lean against the damn button. She was clearly going to have to commit manslaughter because she was going to ‘off’ whoever was currently outside her door. Annoying assholes. Couldn’t she wallow in self-pity in peace and quiet for God’s sake?

Hauling herself off the couch after pausing the movie, muttering to herself along the walk to the door of the creative ways she was going to torture the person waiting for her, she finally approached the door. Unlocking it, she swung it open, prepared to light into whomever was on the other side.

Laney hadn’t expected two people to be standing outside her door. Two people she loved, yes, but she was at the point where she didn’t want anyone—even her two best friends—to witness her breakdown like this.

“I told you both I was fine.” She tried to maintain composure, but was certain the congested sound of her voice from all the crying gave her away.

Tate folded her arms. “Laney, we love you, but we aren’t morons. We know when you’re lying. Fine is always code for ‘I’m feeling shitty’, especially from you.” Tate’s eyes examined her closely. “Plus, you could double for Rocky in the fight scene at the end of the movie.”

“Tate,” Raine scolded their friend before returning her gaze to Laney. She winced. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to make use of the cucumbers and could eat them instead, but …” Raine gestured to the bag Laney hadn’t noticed her friend had been holding at her side. With a forced grin, Raine’s tone had false excitement infused in it. “I brought cheese puffs, too!”

“Fine,” Laney grumbled, turning to walk back down the hall toward the living room. She resumed playing the movie and sprawled on her couch.

“What mov— Oh, no. No, no, nooooo. Not
Love Actually
, Laney,” Raine protested. “This is a movie that makes grown men, even alpha men, tear up.”

Tate drew to a stop at seeing the scene of the wife, whose husband had basically been cheating on her, weeping alone. “Oh, shit. This is like a Defcon alert status.” Turning to Raine, she said, “I’m going to pour us large glasses of wine.” She headed in the direction of the kitchen.

“Good thinking.” Raine took the seat beside Laney on the couch and pulled out the bag of cheese puffs, opening them, handing them to her. She unapologetically grabbed a handful and began stuffing them into her mouth. Raine brought out a cucumber from the grocery store bag and accepted the paring knife from Tate, who had returned from the kitchen with three wine glasses and the uncorked bottle of chilled chardonnay. After pouring the wine, she set one glass on the side table beside Laney, another on other side of Raine, and took a seat in the arm chair with her own. Raine cut off two slices of the cucumber before handing them to Laney. “Put these on your eyes right this minute. Otherwise, you’ll never be able to show your face at work tomorrow.”

Laney took the chilled cucumber slices. “Yeah. About that. I already called off.”

Raine’s arm froze, not retracting back, still in mid-air from holding the cucumber out for her to accept. She cocked her head with a confused expression on her face. “I’m sorry. Did I hear you say that you called off work tomorrow?” she asked, speaking slowly.

“Yep,” Laney answered, taking a bite of one of the cucumbers.

Her friends exchanged a look of surprise and worry, then Tate turned her attention to the movie playing on Laney’s television. The three women watched for a moment before Tate spoke.

“You know, the one thing I’ve always appreciated about this movie was how realistic it is in depicting how love can end up for some people.”

Raine drew back in surprise. “How do figure that?”

Tate appeared thoughtful. “Because, for some people, when you get hurt from love or a relationship you were in, there’s no resolution. You cry—a lot—and then you pull yourself up from the bootstraps, put on your big girl panties, and do your best to move on with your life.”

Both Raine and Laney stared at her before Raine spoke. “Wow. That’s … not really positive. Like, at all.” Giving Tate a meaningful look, tipping her head in Laney’s direction, Raine continued, “Maybe we could try and focus on the happier aspects of love.” She refocused on Laney. “Sweetie, it’s okay to cry and work through your emotions. We’re here for you. But, I think you also need to consider if you want to try and fix things. Because sometimes,” Raine threw a sharp glance in Tate’s direction, “it can work out.”

Laney popped the other cucumber into her mouth and began chewing. “Just an FYI. I’m going to bawl like a baby at the cue cards part.” She referred to the part of the movie which had just begun, where the best friend finally admits his love to his best friend’s wife, knowing it will never be reciprocated.

“We do, too,” came her friends’ response in unison. The three women sat in silence for some time, watching the scene play out before them. Finally, Laney spoke, her voice unusually timid.

“You guys really think I might be able to fix things?”

Raine reached over to grasp Laney’s hand while Tate left her chair to squeeze her tiny form on the other side of Laney. Her two friends laid their heads on her shoulders and Raine answered softly, “I think anything is possible, Laney. As long as you have hope.”

Laney sat there on her couch, with her best friends by her side, never more grateful for these women beside her. And it was then she realized she did have hope. She had a whole hell of a lot of hope.

She just wasn’t sure it would be enough.

* * *

“Oh, fuck, no. Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Foster protested as he entered Zach’s living room, noticing the movie playing on the television.

“Dude, I tried to intervene. He said he wanted to wait until the cue cards scene.” Lawson shrugged. “I’m not gonna lie, I actually like that part.” At Foster’s look of disgust, he held up a hand. “It’s creative as hell, man. That type of shit gets the chicks, I tell you.”

Foster slumped onto part of the large sectional couch, shaking his head before running a hand over his face with a groan. “Mac can’t get here soon enough.”

Zach glared at Lawson. “Seriously? Did you put out an SOS or something?”

Lawson’s eyebrows raised. “Actually, I didn’t. Because we have these things called,” he paused to emphasize his words, “celllll phonnnnnnnes. We use those here in the twenty-first century.”

Zach threw his head back into the oversized chair with a loud groan, closing his eyes. He really needed new fucking friends. Ones who would leave him alone. To wallow.

“Hey, guys.” Mac entered the living room, taking a seat on the couch. “Oh,
Love Actually
. Cool. That cue card scene gets me every damn time. Fucking sucks.”

Foster stared at his friend as if he were crazy. “You know this movie?”

Mac gave a casual shrug. “It’s a chick flick. I have a wife. She likes it and got me to watch it with her.” He glanced over at the television screen before turning back to Foster. “It’s actually realistic because not everyone in the movie gets a happy ending. Oh, hey. The cue card scene’s about to happen.”

The men turned their attention to the movie, watching as the wife answers the door to her husband’s best friend. The best friend plays the Christmas music and flashes cue cards, telling her how he feels, that he loves her.

You could hear a pin drop, it was so quiet in the living room, none of the men speaking as the scene finished. Finally, Foster broke the silence, standing abruptly.

“You’d better have some beer in that damn fridge after making me watch that shit,” he muttered, and stomped toward the kitchen.

“I think I heard him sniffle a little, didn’t you?” Lawson asked Mac in a loud whisper.

Mac discreetly swiped at the corner of his left eye, before grinning. “Nah, probably just his allergies acting up.”

Foster returned to take his seat nearby Lawson, tipping back his beer for a long drink. “Dude. If you’re feeling a little lonesome and want to snuggle throughout the movie,” Lawson looked at him from beneath his brows, “I’ve been known to be a world-class snuggler.”

Foster ignored him, instead turning his attention to Zach. “So, what’s the deal with you and my sister? Any change?”

He closed his eyes and wearily ran his hands over his face before speaking. “No, man. No change.”

He really wished they’d stop bringing up the subject of him and Laney. It was like twisting the knife deeper though he knew that wasn’t their intention.

“Well, I think one of the quotes from this movie said it best. In romance, people get together right at the end.” Mac’s blue eyes were fixed on Zach as he spoke. “Maybe you haven’t gotten to the end, yet.”

He held his friend’s gaze, surprised by the comment but simultaneously hating the glimmer of hope his words elicited. Because he wasn’t sure he could take much more of this gutted feeling.

“Aaaand, I’m going to be needing a shitload of beer if you guys are planning on continuing this estrogen fest.” Foster’s glare was hard.

“Oh, pumpkin. I still love you.” Lawson’s attempt at petting Foster’s head was swatted away. Zach shook his head as he and Mac laughed at their friends.

One thing was for certain, these guys were the greatest.

Another great thing was the fact that none of them would ever admit to sitting around watching this sappy movie.

Well, except maybe for Mac, that is.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-F
OUR

“W
HAT AM
I
GOING TO
do? How am I going to do this?” Laney frantically paced back and forth in Raine and Mac’s living room. Her friends had called for a brainstorming session so they currently had wine, cheese puffs, and pretzels surrounding them.

“You need to calm down, first,” Raine told her. “I know it’s hard, but you need to take deep breaths and focus on your feelings, what you really need him to know.” She tapped a pen against the notepad on her lap. “I’ll write it down and then we can organize it so that you can practice going over it before you talk to him.”

“Ever the obsessive organizer,” Tate remarked dryly, getting a sharp look from Raine.

Laney ran her hands over her hair, smoothing it down. “Okay, so I need to tell him that I’m not afraid anymore. That I’m ready to take a chance on him, on us. That I, uh … want to be with him and care about him …” She trailed off.

Her friends exchanged worried looks before Tate said gently, “Um, sweetie, it might help your cause if you tell him you love him. And actually say the words.”

Laney threw herself onto the leather couch in a heap, leaning back with her eyes closed. “That’s kinda the hard part of all this.”

“You do love him, though. Right?” Raine’s question was tentative.

“I … yes. I’ve just never actually, you know, said it to a guy before.” Laney winced. “Except for Foster, of course. And, well, clearly he doesn’t count.”

“Clearly,” Raine echoed, looking a bit stunned. “Um, Laney? I really think we should probably call in the big guns for this. Someone who can relate to never before saying the ‘L’ word.”

“Someone like Mac,” Tate finished with a nod. “Good idea.”

“Do you really think it’s necessary?” Laney asked, grimacing at the thought.

Her friends answered firmly in unison, “Yes.”

Raine jumped up from the couch to grab her cell phone from the kitchen island. Talking to them as she tapped out a message on her phone, presumably to her husband, she said, “Mac can be here in a few. I kicked him out for this, not even thinking he’d be useful. He’s totally the go-to person for this, though.” Her voice began to take on confidence as she spoke.

Tate snapped her fingers. “That’s brilliant, actually. He has a similar perspective and can share his whole experience with having to grovel.”

Grovel. Ugh
. That word alone made her cringe. Great. As if she weren’t already dry heaving enough about putting herself out there on the possible chopping block. Getting rejected and having her heart thrown right back at her wasn’t exactly off the list of possibilities … er, probabilities. After all, she had done just that to Zach.

The sound of a motorcycle brought her head up, glancing over to see Raine with a smile on her face. “Great! He’s here.”

“How did he get here so fast? He seriously left hanging out with the guys for this?” Laney tossed her a look of disbelief.

“Well, he was only a couple blocks away at Surfside. Buuuuut,” Raine hedged, “I may have promised him a little something special tonight if he got here quicker.” Her lips turned up into a wide grin.

The front door opened and they heard Mac removing his boots onto the mat at the door. Walking down the hallway to the kitchen and open living area, he greeted the ladies. Approaching Raine, pulling her close, he gave her a kiss that made both her and Tate look away for fear of their eyeballs incinerating from all the heat.