Hale Yeah, It's You, page 18
“Before second period, Alayna and another student were caught trying to leave campus. Since they were stopped before they actually left—and because neither has a history of disciplinary issues—I wanted to offer a chance to explain.”
If I weren’t so worried about Alayna, I’d be melting. Roman in this role—measured, compassionate, in control—is dangerously attractive. But my niece is pale, visibly shaken, and I’m just as eager to hear her side.
“Thank you for the grace,” I say. I don’t want to believe he’s giving her special treatment for my sake, but I trust him. He wouldn’t compromise his integrity.
“And the other student?” I ask.
“I can’t say,” Roman replies. “But I assure you, they’re being treated fairly.”
I nod and turn to Alayna. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
She avoids our eyes, chewing on her lower lip. Her knee bounces anxiously.
“It was stupid. I’m really sorry. I’ll never do it again,” she says, eyes filling with tears. “It wasn’t Derek’s fault. Please don’t punish him. He was only trying to help.”
Roman leans forward. “Why were you trying to leave campus in the first place? I’d like to understand what led to that decision, Alayna.”
She glances at me before looking back at her lap. “We finished our math test early, so Mrs. Michaels let us sit in the hall to practice lines. We were working on the street brawl scene, and we started talking about how silly the feud is after all the tragedy. It reminded me of divorce…”
Roman offers her a tissue. I release her hand so she can take it, my heart aching as she wipes her eyes.
“What happened next?” I ask gently.
“I started crying. I told Derek it felt like my parents got divorced and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
Roman’s brow furrows. “Did your parents recently divorce?”
Alayna lifts her chin. “Not my mom. I’m talking about Frankie and my dad.”
The words hit like a gut punch. Of course she saw it that way. I hadn’t even thought about it from her perspective.
“Oh, baby girl.” I pull her close as she cries into my shoulder.
The door opens, and Clay steps in, eyes wide with concern. He’s polished as always—perfect tie, crisp suit—but his expression is anything but calm. His blue eyes pin me with questions.
“I came as soon as I got the message. What’s going on?”
Roman stands, extending a hand. “Mr. Phillips. Thank you for coming. Alayna was caught attempting to leave campus. We’re giving her the chance to explain.”
Clay steps behind us, resting a hand on Alayna’s shoulder. Roman sits again.
“Alayna? Would you like to continue?” he prompts.
She sniffs, “I got really upset. I told Derek that Frankie moved out and it felt like losing my mom.” Her words are shaky but honest, her voice breaking on mom. “I couldn’t stop crying and I was embarrassed. I told Derek I was going to walk home. He wanted to cheer me up, so he said he’d take me to Jake’s for a milkshake and bring me back after lunch so we wouldn’t miss the whole day. He was just trying to be a good friend. We shouldn’t have tried to leave, but I was so upset…”
When she’s done, silence stretches.
“Who is this Derek kid again?” Frustration bleeds through Clay’s voice.
“Romeo, from the play,” I answer quietly.
Roman clears his throat. “What I’m hearing, Alayna, is that you were in need of someone to talk to, and your friend was kind enough to listen and offer comfort. I can’t, in good conscience, punish either of you for that. I do believe you see the error in judgment and won’t repeat today’s decision. However, I’d like you to make an appointment with the school counselor if you feel you have more to get off your chest.”
Alayna nods, relief flooding her features. “Yes, Dr. Clarke. Thank you. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Roman stands. “I’ll leave you three to talk. Alayna, you can head back to class when you’re ready.” He slips out, quietly closing the door behind him.
Alayna and I both stand, turning to face a red-faced Clay.
“Let me get this straight.” Clay’s anger is barely restrained. “You were upset because of Frankie, and now it’s affecting school? You could’ve called me.”
Alayna’s cheeks are already pink from crying, but I watch the flush deepen. “I’m sorry, Dad. I thought Frankie would live with us forever, and when she left—and you were so upset—it made me feel helpless.”
Guilt crashes over me like a cold wave. “I’m sorry, too, Alayna. I wish you’d called me, or answered any of my messages. I’m not leaving you. I’m two streets or a phone call away. You’re not getting rid of me, kiddo.” I pull her into a hug, letting her bury her head in my neck.
“If you’d given us more time…” Clay’s voice hardens as he turns to me. “You had already picked out a place before you even told us you were leaving.”
I exhale, forcing myself to stay calm. “You’re probably right. I should’ve told you I’d been thinking about it for a while. But, Clay, it’s been eleven years since I moved in. Don’t you think I deserve a life of my own? I love you both and I always will—but it’s time for you to be a parent to your daughter, and for me to be the best aunt I can be. Just… not under the same roof.”
Clay’s jaw tightens. “But I love you—”
The words hit like a slap, and I recoil. Alayna pulls away, shock flashing across her face. How many times do we have to go over this?
“No, Clay. You love Tasha. And you always will.” My voice softens. “There are some loves you don’t recover from. And that’s okay.”
I’m still in love with Roman—a fact that becomes clearer every time I’m with him. If Clay’s feelings for Tasha run deeper than mine for Roman, complicated by the fact that they share a child… I can only imagine the kind of mark that leaves. I don’t blame him. But I know he can never love me in the way I need to be loved. And I can’t pretend anymore that I could love him back in that way, either.
Alayna’s gaze bounces between us, realization dawning. “Wait—you were trying to be together-together?”
Clay crosses his arms, jaw ticking. “It was clearly a mistake.”
Alayna lets out a breathy, almost hysterical laugh. “Dad, you’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?” Clay’s tone is sharp, but his arms drop slowly to his sides. Some of the fight drains from him. The slightest hint of a smile tugs at his lips.
“I get it—Keke is gorgeous and smart, and a staple in our lives—but you don’t love her like that.”
Clay lets out a long sigh. “You’re a teenager. What do you know about love?”
“I know enough.” Alayna’s chin lifts with her declaration and Clay stares at her, weariness etched into the deepening lines of his face.
“We have to fix this. This”—he gestures around the office—“can’t become our normal.”
“Absolutely not.” I add, as I wipe a stray tear from Alayna’s cheek. When did she grow up so much?
Clay’s shoulders sag, his expression softening. “I miss you.”
Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I nod. “Can I come back to Sunday dinners?”
Alayna grabs my shoulder, pressing me toward her dad, pulling us all into a tight group hug. “Let’s make them mandatory, okay?”
“Done,” Clay says, holding us close. “And I’ll try to stop being such an idiot.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
“No, kid, you’re right. I needed to hear it.”
For the first time in a long time, things feel right. We’ll have to heal from this—but at least now, we’re trying. And that’s a start. Our foundation is solid; we have good bones. We can survive this renovation.
“My girls need me to be better—I get it.” Clay rubs a hand over my back before stepping away. This time, when he calls us his girls, it doesn’t feel wrong. “Alright, kid, get yourself to class before they change their minds and kick you out of that play you’re so excited about.”
Alayna stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses her dad’s cheek. Some of the color has returned to her face, and she looks lighter, like a weight’s been lifted. I can only hope that seeing her dad and me communicating eases some of the anxiety she’s been carrying.
“And maybe after school today, you can come see my new place?” I offer cautiously. “I’ll drive you home after. But only if you’re up for it.” I hold my breath, waiting.
Alayna hesitates for only a moment before nodding. “Yes. I’d like that.” She kisses my cheek, then slips out of the office.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, Clay claps his hands down on my shoulders. His touch is familiar, grounding. A sense of relief washes over me, like puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. We still have healing to do, and I’m not sure Clay’s fully admitted to himself that he isn’t in love with me—but for the first time, it feels like he could get there.
“I owe you an apology,” he says, exhaling. “Apparently, I’ve been an idiot, and it took a fourteen-year-old calling me out to make me see it.” He gives my shoulders a small squeeze.
He’s one of my oldest and closest friends. For a minute, I think we both forgot that. Things got complicated—but that doesn’t mean we can’t uncomplicate them.
“We both made mistakes,” I say. “Let’s just agree to communicate better moving forward—especially for that girl.”
Clay nods, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “She’s important. But so is your happiness, Frankie. I was selfish with you, and that wasn’t fair.”
His words catch me off guard, a fresh wave of emotion rising in my chest. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I should’ve said it a long time ago.”
He leans in, presses a soft kiss to my forehead, then steps back. Taking his hands from my shoulders, he gives me one last lingering look, then turns and walks out, leaving me alone in the office.
I stagger back into one of the chairs, letting my heart rate settle. Less than an hour ago, I walked in here with anxiety clawing at my ribs, unsure of how this would play out. But now, a quiet peace begins to settle over me.
Things are going to be okay. I’m not sure how I know. But I do.
CHAPTER 29
When I finally step out of Roman’s office, only Kate is left at her desk. She swivels in her chair, tapping her manicured nails against her lips.
“That seemed dramatic. Everything okay?”
I bite back the smartass remark bubbling on my tongue and nod. “Yep, everything’s fine.” And it is. But even if it weren’t, Kate Payton would be the last person I’d confide in. She’s the president of the rumor mill, and I’m not offering up headlines.
“I haven’t seen Clay Phillips in the flesh for a while. Man sure takes good care of himself.”
I think about telling her that if she likes him so much, she should say it to his face. But I wouldn’t do that to Clay. If he ever manages to move on from my sister and find someone to love, I have to believe it won’t be someone like Kate.
“That’s nice of you to say.” I give her my best fake smile. “Where’s Mrs. Brosnan?” It hits me—I haven’t seen her since the first week of school.
“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Kate makes a face like she’s sucking on a lemon. “Her hip was bothering her, and when the doctor suggested she take a break, Dr. Clarke told her he’d give her a sixty-day paid vacation.”
Roman’s racking up kindness points left and right today. “Wow. And she agreed to that?” I can’t hide my surprise. Mrs. Brosnan is the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.
“Yes,” Kate snaps. “Unfortunately, she did.”
“Unfortunately?”
Kate hits me with her iciest glare, like daring me to challenge her royal decree. “Do you know how much work she did around here? It’s like they expect me to do five jobs now—and smile while I do it.”
Maybe that’s her karma. But I keep that thought to myself. “Well, I hope she comes back feeling well-rested,” I say instead, glancing around the office. I half expect to see Roman pop back out, but there’s no sign of him. Kate notices my search, and that familiar smirk creeps back across her face.
“If you’re looking for Dr. Clarke, he’s not here. He took the other family to an empty classroom—figured y’all might need a minute. All this small-town drama, I bet he takes that job offer in London. I mean, who wouldn’t want to go see Big Ben and the Queen, you know?” She grins. “‘Course, it’d be a shame to lose him.”
“He’s headed to London?” My stomach tightens. Old fears flicker up before I can stop them. We’ve just started to figure things out again. We’re not even steady on our feet yet, and already the thought of him leaving twists something inside me.
But I shake it off. I can’t say I’ve forgiven him and still hold onto the hurt he caused when he left the first time. If we’re meant to have a future, it’ll happen. I have to believe that.
Besides, I’m not about to feed Kate’s gossip machine.
“If Roman has plans, he’ll tell me when he’s ready.” I smile, firm and final. “Anyway, I should get back to the theater. See you later, Kate.”
She smirks again—meaning crystal clear—but I just roll my eyes and walk out. I’m not letting her sour my mood. Not today. Not when my girl is finally talking to me again, and I know she’s waiting.
Now that I’ve seen Clay and Alayna with my own eyes, my steps are lighter. My mind drifts to Friday night with Roman. For so long, I’ve held back—caught between uncertainty and the weight of everything else. But now? I have my own place. A fresh start. A shaky but hopeful fresh beginning with my family. Space to dream about the shop, my future, and maybe, finally, what Roman and I could be.
I’m not obsessing anymore. I’m here, in this moment, and things with Roman are real. Honest. I want to say the words out loud—I love him. Not again, but still. It’s freeing. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll say it back.
By the time I reach the theater, it’s buzzing. I catch Alayna’s eye through the glass, and she rushes over, throwing her arms around me. Her eyes are still a little puffy, but she looks more herself.
“I really get my own room at your new place?” she asks, hopeful.
“Yep. You can decorate it however you want.”
“I’m sorry I ghosted you.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to look stern. “I think I can forgive you… on one condition.”
She chews her lip. “As long as it’s not doing your laundry for life or something.”
“Just don’t do it again.” I ruffle her messy bun. “And actually, you’re probably stuck doing your own laundry now. Have you ever seen your dad attempt it?”
Alayna groans. “What if we compromise and you help me on Sundays when you come over for dinner?”
“Points for creative thinking.” I laugh. “But nope. You can’t save it all for one day. I’ll help on Sundays, but you’ve gotta do at least one load every other day. Deal?”
“Okay, Mom.”
She freezes, eyes wide as she realizes what she’s said. The way she’d compared me leaving to a divorce earlier… the way she talks about me. It hits me then—how deep this bond runs. How much we’ve always meant to each other.
A lump forms in my throat.
“You know, Layna-bug,” I say, softer now, “no matter what we call each other, I’ll always be your Keke. And you’ll always be like a daughter to me.”
She nods and hugs me tighter, then quickly pulls away to change the subject. “Um… you didn’t happen to see Derek when you left the office, did you?”
“Smooth redirection,” I tease. “No, Ms. Payton said he was meeting with Dr. Clarke and his parents.”
I don’t miss the way she flinches at that.
“I really hope he’s not in trouble. His parents seem cool, but… they’re still parents,” she says, then quickly adds, “No offense.”
“People only say that when they’re about to offend someone.”
She twists the front of her sneaker into the carpet, chewing her lip like she’s trying not to fall apart. “I really like him, Keke. I don’t want him to hate me if he gets in trouble because of me.”
My girl. She’s growing up right before my eyes. The way she talks about him, the light in her eyes—it’s all there. These moments will stay with her forever. And I get to be part of them. That’s a gift I’ll never take for granted.
“He’s a sweet boy, huh?”
“The sweetest,” she murmurs, blushing. “And Keke?”
“Yeah?” I meet those brown eyes that mirror mine.
“He’s an amazing kisser, too. You were right—it’s like magic.”
With that, she spins and bolts back to her friends, leaving me stunned and grinning. The little twerp knows that conversation isn’t over.
A knock at the door pulls my attention. Derek waves through the glass, his eyes bright—doesn’t look like a kid who just got in trouble. I open the door.
“You survived?” I ask.
He blushes. “I’m sorry if I got Alayna in trouble. She was crying and—”
I wave it off. “There’s nothing to forgive, kid.”
His lopsided grin is contagious. Floppy blonde hair, light blue eyes, easy charm—he’s adorable. My niece never stood a chance. He doesn’t have Roman’s dimples, but he’s got that same confident glimmer. Sweet, respectful, and clearly smitten. I almost want to hug him myself.
“Dr. Clarke is pretty cool,” he says.
“Yeah. I think so, too.”
I wish Roman had walked in behind him. I want to thank him properly—for the way he spoke to Alayna, for how he always leads with empathy. That’s what makes him great at this job. The kids respect him because he respects them. He listens. He shows up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Alayna watching us, nervous. I keep my face neutral—let her sweat a bit.
“Your parents weren’t too hard on you, I hope?”
“Nah.” He shrugs. “Dr. Clarke said I’m a good kid and he wasn’t worried about me. After that, my parents mostly talked about the play. As long as I keep my grades up, they’re chill.”
