Page 120 of The Headmaster’s Rule

“He stepped out a little while ago.”

Shit.

I wring my hands, peering past her, desperate to talk to him. His desk looks tidy. Too tidy. Has he already cleared it out? My heart aches at the thought.

The bell rings for second period, reminding me of the true reason I’m here: my students. I need to head to class.

As I descend the stairs with a weight in my chest, everything feels wrong. I’ve finally earned respect, finally proven myself, but it doesn’t feel like I thought it would, because the person who believed in me the most, who helped me believe in myself, might have thrown his own life away in the process.

Guilt clutches at my heart as I imagine Theo packing up his desk, his life, and leaving the school.

This morning, I thought I was about to be fired. Now, the board has handed me everything I’d hoped for.

But none of it matters if Theo’s gone.

CHAPTER 40

Theo

The cold November air bites through my coat as I head toward the dunes, hands in my pockets, trying to untangle my thoughts.

I had to get out of the building after that faculty meeting. After seeing Eleanor, so beautiful in a burgundy woolen dress and knee-high boots, hair pinned back to reveal sunflowers dangling from her ears. They reminded me of the day I met her, in that very same room, and my heart couldn’t take it.

I wasn’t sure she’d even show. Not when the room was already full, when the meeting was about to start and there was still no sign of her.

God, the relief that flooded through me when she finally appeared in the doorway. I wanted to smile at her. Hell, I wanted to cross the room and pull her into my arms, but as far as I could tell no one knows anything yet, and there’s no point in making waves. Not until I absolutely need to.

But that doesn’t mean it was easy to sit there and pretend everything was normal. Especially with Danny barely holding it together. I told him about my resignation immediately because I wanted him to hear it from me. He responded exactly as I’d expected, using the success of the fundraiser and Safe Harbor as reasons for me to stay.

As if that was enough.

“You’re leaving?” he’d asked, shocked. “After what we achieved last night?”

I was debating whether to come clean, to tell him it was for Eleanor, when he continued.

“If this is about her”—he lowered his voice—“don’t make it worse by throwing yourself under the bus. You’re building something here. You can’t walk away now.”

And when I didn’t say anything to that, he’d added quietly, “She’s not the kind of woman who’d want you to throw your future away for her.”

I look up at the crisp blue fall sky, sucking in a lungful of briny sea air. Is that what I’m doing, throwing my future away?

It doesn’t feel like it. Not when I know I’ll get to wake up beside Eleanor every morning. Get to laugh and talk and share my life with her. Get to fuck her senseless in every imaginable way.

The crunch of dry leaves fades into the soft hush of sand beneath my shoes, and I pause, glancing back. From here I can see the entire school: the imposing main building, the quad, the arts room, the gym. The place I’ve spent my entire life, tethered by duty and expectation, without the freedom to roam, to choose. I think of my tattoo, the irony of that stupid little pawn with the crown, how arrogant I was at the time to think it would mean anything.

Now, it’s over. I’ve handed in my resignation. The board meeting is in an hour. Following that, there’s a whole-school assembly, originally meant to celebrate the fundraiser and introduce the first phase of Safe Harbor. I suppose I’ll use it to say goodbye instead. By 3 p.m., the weight of responsibility will be gone.

A confusing cocktail of emotions swirls through me as I contemplate this. I should feel relieved. Should be planning a vacation with Eleanor, researching a career pivot, looking for jobs somewhere else.

But as I gaze at Wetherly, it feels wrong. I can’t imagine doing anything other than dressing in my suit each morning and heading into my office. Can’t imagine being anywhere else.

And yet, it makes perfect sense.

I heave out a breath, dragging my hands down my face. This school is the only place I’ve ever known. I’ve always resented my father for forcing me into the role, but it still matters to me more than I want to admit.

And now that I’m ready to give it up, the depth of my connection to this school hits me in full force. This is my home. I don’t want to leave.

I just want to be here on my own terms.