Page 67 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy
She scoffed. “Which is true. Blake can’t keep a man to love her or her son.”
I gritted my teeth. “Then it’s true for Brent, too, huh? Who’d you fuck to have him?”
She slitted her eyes. “That’s none of your business.”
“You know what I’m making my business?” I threatened. “The way your son parades around this place like he owns it.”
“He does!” Reagan lifted her chin higher, defiant and sassy. “Don’t you remember how much control the Francis family has in this town?”
I leaned closer, thankful we were near the front doors and not by classrooms where our argument could distract classes in session. “I don’t give a fuck, Reagan. I don’t care what your last name is. All I know is you’re going to tell your brat of a child to stop bullying George and all the other kids who’ve had to put up with him. I’ve only been here a week or so and I, like all the other students and staff, can’t fucking stand him.”
“How dare?—”
I pointed in her face. “No. How dare you. How dare you raise a bully like that and expect to get away with it every time.” I shook my head. “Not on my watch.”
“Not on your watch?” She rolled her eyes. “You’ll only be here for a little bit before you take off again. You have no authority here.”
“Nor do you. You’re nothing but a mean, spiteful woman who can’t handle a rejection.” I walked forward, making her backpedal. “You think you’re invincible just because your family had some bigshots in this town, but you’re nothing, Reagan. You mean nothing. And if you don’t stop encouraging bullying and teach your son how to behave with respect and manners, youwillregret it.”
She gaped at me. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m telling you that you had better parent your son so that he never bothers George Myer again.”
She shoved at me, fury written on her tense face. “What’s it to you, huh? Why should you care?” Scowling more, she huffed. “Did she put you up to this? She can’t stand up for herself—ever!—and she asked you to handle this situation?”
“No.” Blake said it, rushing up from the front doors where she was buzzed in. They must have already called her, and I wanted to spare her the hassle. Standing up for George shouldn’t have been an issue like this, but Reagan just had to stir the pot.
“No,” Blake repeated as she hurried closer, alarmed and angry. “I didn’t ask him to do or say anything.”
Reagan turned her ire toward her. “So pathetic, Blake. Really classy. You can’t teach your boy how to be nice tomyson”—she jabbed her finger at her own chest—“so you have to ask him to fight your fights.”
“I’m not asking anyone to fight. I want no more fighting. At all.” She held her hands up in surrender, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Oh, so it’s okay for Zach to just threaten me and imply that I’m a shitty parent?” She shook her head. “Well, fuck you.” She turned to me and pointed. “And you.” As she turned to walk out, she stopped next to Blake and smiled. “You know that interview you just had? My uncle is the head of that department. You can kiss that job goodbye.” She stalked off, leaving me frowning after her while Blake stared at me.
“You…” She pressed her lips together. “Dammit.” I saw the horror on her face, no doubt from the parting words Reagan had thrown at her. I hadn’t known Blake was looking foranotherjob, but I had been paying attention when she mentioned money woes.
Fuck.I screwed this all up. I had no business butting in and causing more trouble for her. “Blake, I’m…”
She shook her head and lifted her hand to cut me off. “Where is George?”
“Back in his classroom.”
“So I wasted more work time driving here for nothing. Great. No, not for nothing. For her to screw my chances of getting another job.” Not giving a look or a parting word, she stormed off.
I stared at her as she walked back out of the school. She became smaller and smaller until she pushed the bar on the door to shove it open. It whooshed shut, hiding me from her.
Shit.
I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated that my “good deed” of protecting George had backfired into making Blake mad at me. I tried damned hard to rein in my temper and not go off on Reagan like I had, but it wasn’t easy to look evil in the eye and be calm or collected.
After I left the school and headed home, I tried to wrangle my frustration into a controllable force. I couldn’t go around mad at everyone else when I was upset with myself for inserting myself in her life and wanting to help her and George. It wasn’t right of me to want to take back anything I said to Brent or Reagan, either. They deserved it.
“What’s wrong with you?” Amanda asked when she found me nursing a beer in the kitchen, scowling at the wall. She sat across from me, alarmed by my mood. Her brows shot up high, and she waited me out until I replied.
“I… butted into something I might not have had any right to get involved in.”
She blinked. “Um… Which means…?”