Nanny To My highschool Nemesis のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Emerson's POVPrincipal Matthews cleared his throat and opened the folder in front of him."Mr. Weston." He addressed my father, not me. "Thank you for coming in on short notice. I want to walk you through what we have documented over the last few weeks regarding Emerson's conduct."My father said nothing. He just nodded once and kept his hands on his knees."There have been two separate incidents of physical altercation involving your son and another student." Matthews turned a page. "The first occurred in the corridor last week. The second happened this morning in the athletics dressing room, reported by three students who witnessed it." He looked up briefly. "This morning's incident is specifically what prompted our call. A staff member intervened and the situation was contained, but a punch was thrown and there are witnesses.""I'm aware of this morning," my father said quietly.Matthews paused. "You were already informed?""Before you called me." Patrick's voice was completely le

Brooklyn's POV"I care," I said.He made a sound. Short and dismissive, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. Still facing the stairs, still not turning around."Right," he said."I do." I kept my voice steady. "You can believe that or not. That's your choice. But I'm not going to stand here and let you tell me what I feel."He said nothing."Emerson." I waited until the silence had stretched long enough to mean something. "Daisy waited up for you."That made him turn.Not all the way. Just enough that I could see the side of his face and the shift that moved through it when her name landed."She sat at the top of the stairs for two hours," I said. "With her sketchbook. Drawing and waiting and looking toward the front door every time she heard a car outside." I paused. "I tried to get her to eat dinner at the table but she wanted to stay where she could see the door." Another pause. "She fell asleep up there eventually. I carried her to bed about forty minutes ago."He turned fully n

Brooklyn's POV"Ten minutes," Patrick had said.It took less than five.I was still standing at the bottom of the stairs trying to decide whether to go to my room or the kitchen when Patrick's study door opened again. He came out first, still in his coat, and walked toward me with a purpose that made me take one small step back without deciding to.He stopped directly in front of me.Then he reached up and began taking off his coat.I stared at him.He held it out toward me. Waiting.I took it from his hands because I didn't know what else to do. It was heavy and warm and smelled like expensive fabric and I held it against my chest while my brain tried to catch up with what was happening.Patrick turned back toward the study.Emerson was standing in the doorway.He had seen the coat come off. His eyes moved from his father's face to mine — one quick look, reading the situation — and then back to his father. His jaw was set and his arms were loose at his sides and he looked like someon

Brooklyn's POVHe carried her the whole way.Daisy's arms were locked around his neck and her face was buried against his shoulder and he walked down the hallway to her room with her like she weighed nothing, one hand supporting her back, his chin resting briefly on top of her head as he pushed her bedroom door open with his foot.I followed as far as the doorway and stopped there.I watched him lower her onto the bed with the same careful slowness he always used with her — like she was something he was terrified of breaking. He tucked the blanket up around her shoulders. Said something to her that I couldn't hear from where I stood. She looked up at him and reached out and touched the cut above his eyebrow very gently with two fingers, the way she touched things she was worried about.He caught her hand and held it for a moment.Then he pressed it back under the blanket and stood up.He came to the door and I stepped back to let him out. He pulled it to quietly behind him, checked on

Brooklyn's POVHe held my gaze for one more second.Then something closed in his face. Deliberately, like a shutter coming down. The exposed thing — whatever it had been — was gone. He stepped back and dropped his hands from my arms and straightened up fully, putting distance between us like the last two minutes hadn't happened.He scoffed.Short and quiet and aimed somewhere past my shoulder."Are you done?" he said.His voice was back to the flat, controlled version. The one that gave nothing."Cursing at me." He crossed his arms. "Are you done?"I looked at him."If you are." He tilted his head toward the door. "You can get out."I looked at the door. Then at him one more time — at the cut above his eye and the mark at the corner of his mouth and the set of his jaw that said he was not going to crack and was not going to acknowledge that anything had happened in this room and was absolutely not going to say a single word about any of it.I walked to the door.He reached past me and