Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
She took down her hair, washing it, then stood and turned on the overhead shower to rinse herself off.
She had two options, she mused as she dressed for bed. Either show up for class on Friday or quit, and she wasn’t going to quit. She loved her job and the town she lived in. She wasn’t going to move away, because she wouldn’t be able to find another job. That only left showing up Friday to teach the class, despite the warning in the note.
Her phone rang as she was about to lie down on her bed.
“Hi, sis.”
“Hi, Dax. What has you up so late?”
“Just got off work and thought I would call to check up on my favorite sister.”
“I’m your only sister,” Grace mocked, waiting for him to get to the reason for his call. It was eleven o’clock her time; therefore, with the time difference, it was two in the morning his time.
“Which means I need to watch out for you even more.”
“What’s up?”
Dax took the meaning of being the overprotective, big brother to the next level. Not only did she deal with her parents’ constant calls, checking on her, but Dax’s when her parents turned their concern over to him.
“Mom and Dad say you’re teaching a class at the prison.”
Grace’s stomach sank. “And how did they find out?”
“CeCe.”
Grace was going to kill her friend for opening her big mouth. She had introduced her parents to CeCe on one of their visits and had regretted it ever since. Grace believed her mother talked to CeCe on the phone more than she did her own daughter.
“It’s just for this semester, and they have three guards in the room,” Grace explained.
“I don’t give a shit if there are twenty guards; tell them you won’t do it,” Dax demanded.
“I tried. It’s either teach the class or get fired.”
“Then come work for me.”
“No,” she refused gently. She didn’t want to hurt her brother’s feelings, but she had to make a stand for the independence she had fought for from her family. “I love my job and the town. I’m not going to quit over something that’s really not that bad.”
“You have to teach in a fucking prison.”
Grace winced.
“I’m not quitting,” she said firmly.
Silence from the other end had her biting her lip.
“Grace…”
“I already know what you’re going to say. I’m safe. I promise. Have I ever made a promise and not kept it?”
“No,” he answered begrudgingly.
“Then listen to me. I’m telling you I’m perfectly safe. Nothing can happen. They have too many safeguards.”
A deep sigh came over the phone. “All right. But it’s just this semester or you quit.”
“Okay,” Grace agreed. She had already decided on that point.
“You doing all right? Dating anyone?”
“I’m fine. And if I was dating someone, you would already know. CeCe would have told Mom.”
“I have a friend—”
“I have to get some sleep. I have an early class,” Grace broke in, used to her brother trying to fix her up with someone who lived closer to her family.
“Okay, okay, I get the message. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Dax. Love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
Grace hung up the phone with tears in her eyes. She missed her big brother. He was funny and sweet. They were not only siblings but best friends. He was rock-solid, and she could always count on him.
Grace turned off her light, lying down on the bed. Her mind went back to Ice, wondering if he had any family.
Quickly forcing her thoughts away from him, she made herself think of her classes for the next day and the lunch she planned to have with CeCe to give her hell for tattling to her mother.
* * *
Grace entered the classroom, her face still bright red. She laid her briefcase down on the desk and opened it, pulling out her notes. She began teaching right away, using the computer in front of her, which showed on the overhead as she taught. It took several minutes for her speech to slow and relax as she taught the lesson she had prepared.
As she taught, the frosty gaze staring at her inadvertently caught her eyes. Disconcerted, she dropped her own eyes to her computer, feeling as if he somehow knew what she had experienced on her way to the class.
Unintentionally, she had left a small fingernail clipper she had used that morning in the pocket of her skirt. When she had passed through the x-ray machine, it had gone off. One of the guards had asked her if she had any metal objects. Searching through her pockets, she had found the clipper and shown it to the guard, who had rudely jerked it out of her hand and thrown it in the trash can by his desk.
“Already trying to sneak something in to one of the prisoners. What is it about criminals that attract women?” His comment had flustered her.