“Ah, you were one of those. Well, it looks like you turned out all right.” Her eyes glinted with amusement. “So, did your parents move out here from Ohio?”

  “Yeah, when I was six.” He shrugged. “My parents ended up moving back to Ohio when I started college. I fly out there a couple times of year and they occasionally make it this way, but they’re not big on traveling. Total homebodies who realized they prefer things quiet and rural.”

  “Can’t say I blame them.”

  And really, neither could he. Seattle was nowhere near rural. Even in the just under ten years he’d been here, the development and cost of living had gone through the roof.

  Century-old apartment buildings still lingered throughout the city, but tall and shiny, brand-spanking-new apartments and condos had been built around them. If there was a patch of land that could become housing, trees that could be cut down, it was happening.

  Which managed to be both a little sad and exhilarating in his eyes.

  It was just the result of a region that had grown quickly with the influx of people moving to the area for tech jobs. Pushing up the demand for housing and the cost of it.

  While it was definitely his dream, home ownership was still a few years away, at least for him.

  It was so damn pricey and saving up for that down payment was no small feat.

  “I’m the apartment building up here on the left.”

  He blinked, realizing how quickly the drive had gone.

  The building she referenced was boxy, sleek, and shiny black. New, just like the rest.

  A bit soulless and cookie-cutter type, but undoubtedly pretty and cushy inside.

  “Nice place.” He pulled the car to the curb.

  “It is. I’m fortunate to live here.” Something akin to embarrassment flashed across her face. “My dad helps pay for the apartment. I mean, hello, I’m a teacher with barely five years under my belt. I could never afford my own place in Seattle on my salary.”

  “Well, that’s really nice of him.”

  “It is.” She sighed. “Plus, we’re Korean and my parents are super traditional. They would’ve practically disowned me if I’d ever moved in with James before we were married. But I was desperate to get out on my own, so my dad helped financially.”

  And there it was. He’d always wondered why James and Hannah had never moved in together. It was almost as weird as being a couple since middle school, yet never getting engaged.

  Why hadn’t they? What had James been waiting on? He should’ve locked Hannah down years ago.

  “Well, I should go.” She reached for the handle and gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks for the ride, Eric. It was good to see you again.”

  When would he see her next? It was anybody’s guess once she climbed out of his car. The thought sent a small stab of panic through him.

  “Maybe I’ll see you at Barney’s another time.”

  She hesitated, her smile tightening.

  He knew it then. She didn’t want to run into him again. He was a reminder of James, and her heart was still broken. For a moment, he was sure she was about to go into a long reply, to put it into words. But then her head dipped into a tiny nod.

  “Maybe.”

  It was one word, but filled with a whole lot of ‘hell no.’

  “Have a good night, Eric.”

  As she hurried to her apartment building, his stomach clenched. Yeah, he figured Hannah was going to make damn sure she never stepped foot in that bar again.

  Which was probably for the better, he told himself as he pulled away from the curb.

  The last thing he should be doing is fantasizing about his best friend’s ex.

  Chapter Two

  Why hadn’t she asked for an extra shot in her coffee this morning?

  Hannah pressed her fingertips to her temples and willed the caffeine in her blood to kick in faster.

  She was two parent-teacher conferences into the day and had eight more to go.

  These days were always a bit chaotic with preparing the notebooks for each kid, scheduling translators for parents that needed them, and dealing with parents who were no-shows.

  A glance at the clock on the wall showed her she had just a couple more minutes until her next parent arrived.

  She turned her attention to the file in front of her and gave a faint smile. The next kid was Harrison Wentworth.

  An image of the immaculately groomed seven-year-old flitted through her mind.

  Where many of the kids at school ended the day looking like they’d been wrestling pigs in the mud, Harrison always managed to look like he’d just come from a photo shoot for the Nordstrom kids’ department.

  Maybe because he really didn’t play much during recess. He was a quiet child and maybe a little awkward at times. But he did well enough in school.

  Still, his social habits with other kids was something she wanted to bring up with his dad.

  The sound of her classroom door opening had her lifting her head. The man who strode inside was fairly tall—at least a couple inches over six feet—with black hair that had specs of silver at the temples. Maybe mid to late forties.

  And just like his son, the dad looked like he also spent his days modeling for Nordstrom.

  As he entered the room, his gaze never left her. And the intensity in his stare sent a sliver of discomfort through her, but she pushed it aside and kept her expression polite and professional.

  She rose to her feet and extended her hand. “Hello. I assume you’re Mr. Wentworth? Harrison’s father?”

  “Please, call me Stoddard.” He took her hand in his smooth one and clasped it in a firm grasp, his gaze sliding over her. “And you must be Miss Jeong? Harrison’s teacher?”

  “I am.” And I absolutely won’t ask you to call me Hannah. “If you would please have a seat?”

  His mouth was a thin line of distaste as he sat down in one of the plastic chairs at the table.

  When school had begun, she’d asked Harrison if he had a nickname—like Harry—that he preferred to be called. He’d answered with a flat ‘no,’ while staring her down in a similar way that Stoddard Wentworth was now.

  The two were definitely alike.

  “Harrison’s mother couldn’t make it today, I assume?”

  Stoddard’s hazel gaze turned flinty. “His mother ran off with another man several years ago. She’s no longer in the picture.”

  Yikes. That was a little TMI when just the latter half of that statement would’ve done fine.

  “I’m sorry.” And she meant it, because it might explain some of the odd behavior from her student. She reached for the file on Harrison. “Well, why don’t we get started?”

  “Thank you. First off, I’d like your explanation on why my son is receiving a three in your class and not a four.”

  Ah. He was one of those parents. They popped up now and then in these conferences. She felt a small pang of empathy for Harrison.

  Growing up, she’d been taught to strive for perfection as well.

  “Second grade can seem overwhelming, and receiving a three is average—”

  “My son is not average.”

  She bit back a sigh before giving him her usual spiel on how grades are decided and delicately let him know that putting too much pressure on children at this age could actually be harmful.

  Something she could see now but knew it was harder to convince some parents of. Her own included.

  He didn’t reply or even give a nod of acknowledgment, but simply stared at her.

  What was with this guy?

  One thing she kept hoping he’d ask was how his son was doing socially. That was always a sign that a parent was checked into their kid’s emotional and academic well-being.

  But he didn’t, so that meant she would have to do it.

  “One thing I feel I should bring up is that Harrison struggles a bit with the social side of school.”

  “I don’t find that quite as important.”

  That would surprise literally no one.

  “Does Harrison have any friends at home? He struggles a bit making some here at school.”

  “He has an au pair who is his friend.”

  She almost laughed, because she was certain he must be joking, but his expression failed to lighten even a bit.

  Oh my god, he’s not joking.

  Her stomach sank for Harrison and the life he must have. A mother who ran off. A dad who was about as emotional as a robot, and his only friend was the au pair?

  “I’m hoping he’ll warm up to the other children soon. There will be several projects and events in the near future where that should be possible.”

  “Fine. Hopefully, there will be extra credit or some way for him to bring his grades up as well.”

  The kid is seven, you heartless jerk.

  She offered a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s the beginning of the year. There will be ample opportunity in the future. I see a lot of potential in your son.”

  And she did. That was if his ice-cold dad would support him a bit more.

  Ugh.

  Thank god they were almost out of time.

  “Do you have any more questions for me, Mr. Wentworth?”

  Displeasure crossed his face, and she was pretty sure it was because she hadn’t called him Stoddard. A deliberate choice.

  “Not about my son, no.”

  What did that imply? She waited for him to continue, but he simply continued to watch her.

  Nope. There was something off about this guy. She couldn’t wait for him to get the hell out of her classroom.

  “All right then. Well, I have another conference starting in just a few minutes.” She rose to her feet and gave a brief nod. “Have a good morning.”

  “You as well. I’m certain we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

  Not sooner than the next conference, hopefully.

  Once he’d left, she slipped across the hall to her friend and fellow teacher, Samantha’s, room. Thankfully, she was between conferences too.

  Hannah shuddered and shut the door behind her. “You ever have a parent who gives you the total heebie-jeebies?”

  The other woman grimaced and slid her glasses up her nose. “I’ve been at this for fifteen years now, so yeah, occasionally. Though none recently.”

  “This was my first.” Hannah shook her head. But then she’d only been teaching for five years. “Hopefully, my last.”

  “Don’t count on it. My next parent should be here any minute, but do you want to grab lunch after the conferences?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She needed to erase the memory of that weirdo with some tacos or something.

  Sam was the other second-grade teacher. She’d become a good friend and was always down for tacos and margaritas. And hallelujah for that.

  “See you in a bit.” Hannah turned to leave.

  “Hey.”

  Hannah turned back and arched a brow.

  “Don’t let the parents get in your head. Just focus on the kids.”

  “Will do.”

  But she knew it’d be a while before the image of Harrison’s father left her mind.

  *

  “Hey, man, can you bring the garbage and recycling bins to the curb tonight?”

  Eric, who’d just arrived home and was passing the living room, paused to glance over at James. His friend sat at the kitchen table, with papers and books sprawled out.

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll take them out in a few.”

  It wasn’t just their friendship that had Eric saying yes. It was the guilt over seeing Hannah.

  Maybe he should’ve mentioned to James that he’d seen Hannah at the bar the other night, and it gnawed at him.

  Why hadn’t he said something, damn it? Why did he feel like he had to hide it?

  Maybe because Eric had felt that familiar zing of attraction to Hannah again. The one that he hated to acknowledge, because damn, it was just so wrong.

  But it’d always been there, from the very first day James had brought her to a frat party and introduced her when they were eighteen.

  “Thanks, I’m up to my eyeballs studying.” James gave a tight smile.

  Eric’s stomach clenched. There it was, the reminder that his friend had been so upset and distracted over losing Hannah last spring that he’d failed the bar exam in July.

  That second chance to take the exam wouldn’t come around for several months, but clearly his friend was keeping focused when not working.

  Eric cleared his throat, trying to find the bright side. “Hey even if you failed the bar the first time, you’re still a lawyer, right? Working at your cousin’s firm and all.”

  “Not exactly, since I didn’t pass the bar.”

  “So you’re an intern?”

  James winced. “I’m an intern on probation, I guess?”

  Eric nodded. “But the point is you’re still getting paid.”

  “Yes, I’m still getting paid.”

  “And probation ends when you pass the bar.”

  “I’m going to fucking annihilate the bar in February.”

  James leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for taking out the garbage. I’ll bring them back in tomorrow once they’re emptied.”

  Eric pulled out the chair across from him. “No worries. How are you holding up?”

  “As much as I can, I guess?” His friend’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Work keeps me busy. And when I’m not awake, I’m dreaming about this shit.”

  “Yikes. You need a break.”

  “I don’t think we get them, but I’ll live.” James glanced over at him and sighed. “How are things with you?”

  “Good.” Had he answered too fast? “Same shit, different day.”

  James nodded, but it was clear he was only half listening. His eyelids were at half-mast, his eyes a bit glazed.

  “You need sleep, bro.”

  The only reply he got was a grunt.

  “Have you eaten anything lately?”

  “I think I had a breakfast sandwich earlier at work. They keep me pretty busy.”

  Eric glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost seven. His friend probably hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  “I was just about to make some dinner. Chicken and rice or something. Nothing too crazy. Let me make you a plate.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “I don’t mind. I’m already cooking. Get your studying on a bit longer, then I’m making your ass take a break to eat.”

  James hesitated before giving a small nod. “Thanks, man.”

  Eric lifted his hand in a don’t mention it wave and headed to the kitchen.

  He made quick time putting the rice on in his mini rice cooker, before pulling some chicken breasts he’d bought out of the fridge and went to work seasoning them. A few minutes later, they were sizzling in a pan with garlic and olive oil.

  While the chicken cooked, he unloaded the dishwasher. Now that it was just him and James, the household chores were piling up more.

  Jack had moved out last month, and shortly before that, Blake had left too.

  He knew James could afford it, working at his cousin’s firm and making good money. And while Eric made decent money, it was tighter with just the two of them paying the rent. Housing costs in Seattle were nauseatingly high and their landlord had been quick to jump on those increases.

  They were on the hunt for more roommates, but Eric knew there was a good chance James was thinking the same thing.

  That this might be the end of the bachelor pad. Hell, they were just a few years away from thirty. It was probably time to get their own places.

  Going from a house to a small one-bedroom apartment would suck, but having his own space would probably be a good thing.

  When the food was done, Eric dished up plates of chicken and rice for them both, and threw some cold baby carrots and broccoli on the plate, too, for color and health.

  When he carried them over to the dining room table, James pushed his books and papers aside to make room for them.

  “Fuck, that looks good.” James stared down at his plate and took a deep breath in. “You’re kind of a pro at this cooking stuff. Always have been.”

  “My mom made sure I knew a few kitchen tricks.” Eric’s mouth curved into a slight smile as he thought of his mom.

  Damn, he probably was overdue on calling her. He’d first had the thought while driving home from dropping Hannah off the other night.

  But life had happened, and of course he’d forgot.

  James attacked his meal with gusto, barely taking a moment to breathe.

  “Was that breakfast sandwich from today or yesterday?” Eric joked.

  “Couldn’t even tell ya,” James admitted.

  Hell, at the rate his friend was going, he wouldn’t put it past him to have skipped more than a few meals.

  When James finally set down his fork a bit later, he leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. “That was amazing.”

  “Glad you liked it.”

  “You’re kind of a health nut too.” James picked up a carrot, snapping into it with his teeth.

  “I try.” Eric finished off his chicken. “I need to keep in shape for Taekwondo.”

  He’d been taking it since he was seven, and was a second-degree black belt. Hopefully heading toward his third. But that was up to Master Myeoung to decide. He’d basically grown up in the studio he’d trained at.

  “Yeah, how’s Taekwondo going anyway?”

  “Always awesome.”

  It was only three nights a week, for the seven o’clock class, but he looked forward to that more than anything else on his schedule. It was a priority.

  “You should come try out a class sometime. See if it’s your thing.”

  James laughed and shook his head. “Nah, man, I’ll stick to running. I’m not much of the routine and sparring type.”

  Eric grinned. “A lover, not a fighter.”

  The smile on James’s mouth died and he shook his head. “I’m not either right now.”

  Shit. Way to remind him of the breakup.

  “Probably a good thing you’re single anyway, with you studying for the bar.” Eric kept his words light. “Women are a distraction.”