Worth The Wait: Worth It: Book 10 Read online

  Worth The Wait

  Worth It: Book 10

  Peter Styles

  Contents

  Hi there!

  1. Vance

  2. Wyatt

  3. Vance

  4. Wyatt

  5. Vance

  6. Wyatt

  7. Vance

  8. Wyatt

  9. Vance

  10. Wyatt

  11. Vance

  12. Wyatt

  13. Vance

  14. Wyatt

  15. Vance

  16. Wyatt

  17. Vance

  18. Wyatt

  19. Vance

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1 Preview – Mastering The Muse

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  Worth The Wait

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  1

  Vance

  The chaos was about to begin. Standing in the door to my classroom, I took a deep breath in preparation. The silence would explode with laughter, chatter, and hundreds of footsteps in three…two…one. The double front doors to Worthington Middle School opened wide. Another school year was underway, but this year I had a new assignment, taking on the hard to fill position of seventh grade math teacher. Not exactly where I wanted to be, but I was up to the challenge. It wouldn’t be easy to turn my back on the high school students I’d worked with last year, but sometimes teaching assignments changed at the last minute.

  Seventh grade math seemed to be the revolving door of middle school instruction. It was a tough year from a curriculum standpoint. Definitely a tough year from a student standpoint. Most of the kids were poised on that awkward precipice between childhood and adolescence, and not exactly sure from day to day which way they wanted to step.

  I greeted each student as they entered my class for homeroom. There wouldn’t be much time to get to know these kids before they split off to their first period classes, but I would work with the time that I had. The seventh grade team of teachers liked to use homeroom for team-building activities—not always easy with preteens in the midst of their biggest growth and developmental changes since infancy—but it seemed like more and more of them needed socialization skills as well as a support system.

  “Good morning, Mr. Waite,” one little girl said with a bright smile as she moved past me into the room. I remembered her from open house. Good grades, involved parents. She would be one of the students who would sail through the drama-filled waters of middle school with little problem. Her support system was intact, which wasn’t the case with all our students. It’s not that we were in as rough shape as some of the larger districts.

  Even the Gaton Independent School District faced problems with underperforming students and uninvolved parents that plagued many of the larger inner city schools, and the Gaton District wasn’t that much bigger than Worthington.

  As the bell rang, I glanced at the students already clustered into little groups inside the classroom—with the exception of one or two loners slumped in their seats—and quickly tallied their number. It appeared everyone on the roll was there. Two days earlier when I finally got my class lists, I had noticed the name of one particular student but couldn’t yet match a name to a face.

  I did my best not to look like I was searching faces too eagerly. For just a moment, when I first spotted her name on my roster, the years had slipped away. I could see her cradled securely in her dad’s muscular arms. She had been just a baby. No way would she remember me.

  Hard to believe that twelve years had passed. Twelve years of wondering what I had done to drive Wyatt Worth away. His daughter’s hair had been as shiny as a halo back then. She’d been the light of her father’s life, and I was sure she still was, but neither one of them had made it to open house. I had geared myself up to face him and felt a mixture of relief and regret when he hadn’t shown.

  I put my eyes back on the roll and tore my thoughts away from all of that. Time to be a teacher, not a wistful broken-hearted kid in a thirty-one-year-old body.

  “Good morning, class,” I greeted my homeroom students, not too surprised when the noise level didn’t shift. Okay, time to pull out the classroom management strategies I hadn’t had to call on quite as much with my high school students last year. Without raising my voice, I said, “If you can hear my voice, clap once.”

  The kids in the front row clapped. The noise level dropped by half.

  “Clap twice.” This time the majority of the students followed suit.

  “Let’s try this again.” I paused to look over the class, glad to see that almost all eyes were now on me. “Good morning. I’m Mr. Waite, your homeroom teacher, and for quite a few of you, your math teacher at some point today.”

  A few groans erupted. Yes, I was back in the world of students who acted like adults one minute and like babies the next.

  “We’ll get started with a little get-to-know-you activity.” More groans to meet my broad, well-practiced smile. “As I call your name, stand up, tell the class and me something interesting about yourself. Abigail Barrett.”

  The girl who’d spoken to me earlier popped up from her desk with a broad smile for everyone. “I’m Abby, and I’m learning to play the violin.”

  “Matthew Bender,” I said next, looking around the room.

  A skinny kid still shorter than Abby slid out of his desk. “Everyone calls me Matt, and I’m going to play football for Texas.”

  “The Texas Midgets, maybe,” one kid needled him. I checked my roll. Kirk Smallwell. I remembered his family. Small-minded might be a better fit. That fruit certainly hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

  Everyone hooted. Matt glared at them before sitting down, his cheeks flushed most likely with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

  I set my clipboard on the desk next to me. “Okay, everyone has their own story, their own dreams and goals. Keep your opinions to yourself. In my classroom, we lift one another up, not tear one another down.” I gave Mr. Smallwell the long eye for the last bit, and waited for him to look away before moving on.

  I continued to call each name until only two girls remained on my list. The one I most wanted to put a face to was next. My heart fluttered along with my stomach but I read the name without a trace of it in my voice. Practice. Show no weakness.

  “Temperance Worth.”

  She stood taller than some of her other classmates with long, coltish legs she hadn’t quite grown into yet. Her honey-colored hair was a legacy from her mother, but the height was definitely from Wyatt. I inhaled an easy, calming breath. Wyatt must be so proud of this beautiful young lady.

  “Most people call me Tempy. And there’s nothing interesting about me.” She started to slouch back into her seat.

  “Wait,” I said with a reassuring smile. This was an age where plenty of kids were shy about speaking in front of others, so maybe Temperance just needed a little nudge. “The Worth family founded Worthington, didn’t they?”

  She shrugged, using her fingers to hook her long hair behind one ear. “That’s ancient news, and it’s not really about me anyway.”

  “So…do you have any pets or hobbies?” I suggested, trying to give her some ideas that might help her come up with a nugget of information she could provide her classmates about herself.

  She flipped the rest of her hair back over her shoulder, her jaw taking on a mulish set. “My mom died giving
birth to me.”

  There was a definite challenge in her gray eyes as she dropped into her seat. I cleared my throat, feeling the tense silence in the rest of the class. I knew her history only too well—almost every tear and grief-filled groan—Temperance just didn’t know it. It hurt my heart to think her mother’s death was what she chose. That she defined herself by it.

  I needed a distraction to get things back on track.

  “Casey Young?” I called the last name on the roll with an inner sigh of relief.

  While the last little girl explained that she had the best barrel horse in Texas and she was going to be a professional rodeo rider, I glanced at Temperance. She stared fixedly at her desk, her generous mouth tight.

  I definitely had some ground to make up there. With the time that remained in homeroom, I covered the first part of the student code of conduct with them. Right before time for the bell to ring, I said, “Any students who did not get a supply list at open house, please raise your hands.”

  Several hands went up, including Temperance Worth’s. The bell rang right as I handed a copy to her. Desks scraped and students began peeling themselves from their seats and slinging their bright, new backpacks onto their shoulders.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, line up outside your next scheduled class.”

  Temperance rose and started to brush past me.

  “Wait a moment, Tempy.”

  She halted, chin up, and stared at me, challenge in every line of her body.

  “Look,” I told her in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry if I put you on the spot earlier. That wasn’t my intention. I want to get to know everyone and want all the students to know a little bit about each other. This is a great opportunity to start forming new friendships.”

  I saw no softening in her gaze, which reminded me even more strongly of her dad. “Thanks, Mr. Waite, but I have enough friends already. I really don’t want any more, especially not a teacher.”

  With a twist of her shoulders, she moved past me. I pursed my lips in frustration. Maybe I was trying too hard. She was Wyatt’s daughter, after all.

  And that got me wondering about Wyatt Worth.

  I could still see his finely chiseled body, his short, dark hair and the same piercing gray gaze his daughter possessed. Hard to believe it had been twelve years since…No, I couldn’t start thinking about that—or him—now. Just having Tempy as one of my students this year was going to be challenge enough without rehashing the past. That was opening a door to heartache that I just couldn’t deal with at the moment.

  “Hey, Mr. Waite, can we come in?”

  I turned to the door where my first period students were starting to bunch up. I hoped I was still up to the challenge that middle school presented.

  “Yes, come on in.” I waved them in for emphasis and stood back for the inevitable disorderly swarm as they stormed the place. “Your seat assignments are on the desk. If anyone needs to be close to the board, let me know and we can trade places today. Put your backpacks under your chairs. We’ll go over classroom expectations first.”

  Of course, the first expectation might be for me—a warning not to get too close to the kid who in a different time, different place, might have been my daughter to raise.

  2

  Wyatt

  “Todd!” After yelling out my office door, I checked the food order in front of me again. It hadn’t changed. We were still short the chicken we would need for two of the most popular dishes on our lunch menu—chicken fried waffles and chicken fried chicken. How the hell was I supposed to get things done if my new assistant manager couldn’t handle the simplest of tasks without fucking up? I had just opened my mouth to shout again when Todd popped his head in the office. As always, his short-cropped hair stood on end as though it hadn’t seen a comb in—well, maybe never.

  “What’s up, Wyatt?” His eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights…hell, maybe more like a possum. One that was on a four-lane highway about to get run over, and I was the tractor-trailer bearing down on him.

  “Did you check this order when it came in?” Patience. Patience.

  “Yes, sir.” Todd scraped a hand around the back of his neck.

  “Did you happen to realize that it’s two cases of breasts and three cases of wings less than what I asked you to get?”

  “Are you sure?” Todd’s gaze was innocent and confounded as though he couldn’t imagine how that might have occurred. Was I sure? So tempting to let the sarcasm loose…

  Okay, my patience was shot. I waved the order I’d handwritten at him. “Check it.”

  As Todd scanned the note and his order receipt, I blew out a breath. My gaze landed on the book I’d been reading every spare moment I got, which wasn’t often. What to Expect from your Teenage Girl was supposed to offer helpful advice for parents of tweens and teens. Hmm. So far, I hadn’t found a magic cure to turn bitchy Tempy back into my sweet baby girl. Maybe Caleb would have some insight. He had teenagers—even a teenage daughter.

  I shook my head. I needed to focus on the current emergency and my new assistant manager’s less than energetic response to resolving it.

  Maybe I could find a book to help with Todd—Brain Training for Diner Managers or something similar.

  “Wow, dude. Your fives and your threes are pretty similar. I must have read it wrong. Sorry.”

  He handed the sheets back to me with an air that said I should probably work on my penmanship. This wasn’t a matter of messy handwriting. This was an employee who was going through the motions instead of doing his job.

  “Not so fast, Todd,” I gritted between clenched teeth, wondering how long it would be before I completely pulverized my molars. “We’ve had this conversation already, so I don’t expect to have it again. This isn’t about my penmanship. This is about you knowing our menu and thinking.

  “I’m going to have to place a rush order to make up the shortfall here. The diner can’t run out of the main ingredient for our most popular dishes. That’s how restaurants lose business and close. Before that happens, you’ll be buying chicken out of your own pocket down the street from the Stop and Save.”

  “Wyatt,” Todd started to whine, but I held up my hand. I was tired of excuses, tired of hearing why things weren’t his fault.

  “I’ll put in the rush order and pay for it,” I said, “but listen up. You need to get your head in the game. If I have to follow behind you fixin’ mistakes all the time, then why do I need to pay your salary?”

  Todd looked like a whipped puppy. Now I felt like shit. I’d hired him because he had some previous food service experience at a couple fast food places in Gaton, and as a favor to his daddy, but it sure was getting aggravating. Sailing Street and Finer Worth pretty much ran themselves at this point. The diner, arguably my favorite of the three to actually be in, just had this one loose wheel I could never seem to tighten for very long.

  “I’m sorry, Wyatt. It won’t happen again.”

  I nodded, weariness making my neck and shoulders ache like a bitch. After he left, I called my food wholesaler and made the arrangements to have another truck drive to Worthington from Gaton. I’d take a monetary hit on it, but I didn’t have a choice.

  Once that was done, I tried to let the tension out of my shoulders and stared at the photo of Elaine that still sat on my desk. Next to it was last year’s school picture of Tempy. She’d gotten that gorgeous honey hair from her mama. It had been like spun gold until a couple of years ago when it had started to darken to a shade closer to Elaine’s. No doubt Elaine would have known exactly how to handle Tempy’s moods.

  I’d had to stumble through the talk with her last year after the school nurse had called me and delivered the news that it was time, and the school no longer did any of that. We muddled through it, and I thought everything had gotten back to normal. Lately, though, my baby girl just seemed like she was turning on me, and I didn’t understand why.

  Was it all just an inevitable part of being a teenager, or had no
t having a mother in her life done damage that was only just showing up? I knew the day would come when she would pull away—that was part and parcel of growing up—but not now. I wasn’t ready for it...not even close. Just the thought made my chest tighten.

  Damn it, Elaine, I sure could use one of your speeches about all the obvious things I’m missing with Tempy. Guilt followed right on the heels of that thought. Elaine couldn’t help not being here. Death was like that.

  “Hey, Wyatt.” My head cook stuck his head through the doorway. “Grayson and Dylan are out front to see you.”

  “Thanks, Bill.” I stood and stretched the kinks out of my neck before rolling my shoulders to relieve some of the pinching I hadn’t been able to shake.

  Being a single dad sucked sometimes with no one to bounce ideas off of. An image of earnest, deep blue eyes and a generous mouth came to mind, but I pushed it away as I stood from my desk to meet with the happy couple.

  Elaine wasn’t the only wound that periodically still caused pain. It had been years since I’d said more than ten words in a row to Vance Waite, but his image was as clear to me as my own. We’d seen one another around once in a while. It was a small town and twelve years had us orbiting our past like rocks around a star. I suppose that was part of the punishment for pushing away the only other person I had ever desired, at the time when we both needed one another most.

  I pushed out the double doors from the kitchen into the main dining room. As many years as Worth’s Downtown Diner had been in business, it still gave me a thrill to see the sparkling counters and bright décor of the business Elaine and I had built from the ground up.