Wildflower (Colors #4) by Jessica Prince Page A

my stomach had lessened substantially.
    It was hard to be so lonely when my life was filled with such wonderful friends.

Walking through the doors of the high school, I let out an exhausted sigh, watching my breath come out in a puff of steam in the cold winter air. Thanksgiving Break was over and it felt like the kids had come back determined to make the remainder of the school year Hell on Earth for the teaching staff.
    Jesus Christ, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so tired. Both mentally and physically. It was days like this that made me hate teenagers. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted kids of my own, most definitely. But I fully intended on sending their punk asses back just as soon as they hit thirteen.
    My head came up when I heard “Later, Coach Murphy!” yelled across the parking lot, seeing one of the kids from my third period History class climbing into his truck. I lifted my hand in a lazy wave as I made my way toward my own car, ready for the day to be over. I had a six pack in my fridge at home calling my name.
    That was, until I scanned the remaining cars in the lot and saw one that stood out among the rest.
    I’d recognize Lucille Prewitt’s beat up old pickup truck anywhere. And considering Ethan was too young to drive, it being parked in the lot of the school could only mean one thing.
    My exhaustion long forgotten, I turned on my heels and made my way back into the nearly-empty school. My eyes darted through the glass windows surrounding the front office, seeing Ms. Kathy, the administrative assistant just closing down her computer for the day.
    I pushed through the door and offered up my most charming grin. “Hey there, Ms. Kathy.”
    “Well hey, Coach Murphy.” Ms. Kathy’s eyes swept the length of my body, her bleary, cataract gaze shining with appreciation. I had to laugh. She’d been working at the school for as long as I could remember. The woman was so old she was damn near fossilized, but that hadn’t stopped her from putting the moves on every young, single male staff member that walked through the doors. Had to give props to her for never giving up.
    “You’re certainly looking fine today.”
    “And you’re a shameless flirt,” I chuckled.
    “Can’t blame an old woman for trying.” The papery skin on her cheeks wrinkled as she offered me what I could only assume was supposed to be a sultry grin. Unfortunately, the fact that her dentures appeared to be loose took away from any appeal. “I’m old, not dead.”
    I leaned my elbows on the counter and gave her a wink. “And one of these days some lucky man is gonna swoop in here and steal you away from the rest of us.”
    “Oh, aren’t you a sweet talker.” She batted her eyelashes and giggled up at me, looking just creepy enough to give me the chills. “So what can I do for ya, handsome?”
    “Well, I was just wondering,” I started. I couldn’t outright ask if Harlow had gotten the teaching job. Ms. Kathy and most of the staff at the school had been around when Harlow and I were students. And if that hadn’t been the case, Pembrooke was small enough that most everyone knew good and well about our past, being obvious about my curiosity would have sent the grapevine humming with gossip. “Has Principal Whitfield found anyone to teach the photography class yet? I had a few students asking about it today— lie —so I figured I’d try and get some answers for them.”
    “You know, now that you mention it, we just found someone to fill the position today.” She leaned forward, her expression conspiratorial. “And you’ll never guess who it is,” she whispered like what she was about to say was the most newsworthy thing to ever hit our little town.
    “Who?” I whispered back, playing along for the sake of posterity.
    “Harlow Prewitt! Can you believe that? You two were quite the item back in the day, if I remember correctly.”
    “Well, how’s that for a coincidence?” I pushed up from the counter, a