Separate Schools Read online

  Separate Schools

  KT Morrison

  Contents

  About the Author

  Also by KT Morrison

  Foreword

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Part II

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Part III

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Part IV

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Part V

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Part VI

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Afterword

  About the Author

  KT Morrison writes stories about women who fall in love with sexy men who aren’t their husband, and loving relationships that go too far—couples who open a mysterious door, then struggle to get it closed as trouble pushes through the threshold.

  Visit My Blog!

  sparrow3dx.blogspot.com

  Also by KT Morrison

  SERIES

  Landlord

  Maggie

  Obsessed

  The Cayman Proxy

  Happy Endings

  EPIC NOVELS

  Cherry Blossoms

  Learning Lessons

  NOVELS

  Going A Little Too Far

  Pool Party

  Après Ski

  NOVELLAS

  Watching Natalie Cheat

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  Models on cover are meant for illustrative purposes only.

  SEPARATE SCHOOLS

  a Separate Schools novel

  109,000 words

  First Edition. September 10, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 KT Morrison

  Written by KT Morrison

  Cover by KT Morrison

  Foreword

  This book deals with polyamory and open relationships. There is jealousy and angst, sometimes hurt. If you consider open relationships cheating, this book will be a difficult read. This is a love story and the emotions are paramount, but I can never guarantee an HEA. It’s a painful love story played out on a battlefield of jealousy and heartache. It tests the elasticity and endurance of true love.

  This book contains frank and graphic depictions of human sexuality and is intended only for readers over the age of eighteen.

  All characters are over the age of eighteen.

  Part 1

  1

  The end of every summer since Harrison Wade was ten years old had been punctuated by the party held at the lakeside home belonging to Taylor, Riley, and KC Brooks’ family. An overnight celebration that began on the last Saturday morning of August with an early lunchtime barbecue before an afternoon of fun and games, and activities; volleyball on their beach, swimming, horseshoes, kayaking, waterskiing or tubing. Or whatever way the young people could find to amuse themselves. In the evening, there was more barbecued food to be eaten, then a bonfire where someone would inevitably play guitar (usually Mikey Lawrence with his long hair and denim shirts), and of course there were hot dogs and s’mores to be roasted.

  Harrison had been coming to the Brooks’ party for what felt like his whole life—nineteen-years-old now and headed to college, there was a worry this could be the last time the party was held.

  Taylor Brooks was the same age as him, and she was the youngest member of the Brooks clan. There was Taylor, then Riley, her older sister by a year, and KC, her brother who was older by three. This would be Riley’s first time back since she went to university (if she even showed)—and KC had been at one party back two years ago, but missed last year’s.

  The first invite Harrison had received to the Brooks’ party was the summer after Grade Three. Invitations to the Brooks’ were limited because the place only had so much space to accommodate overnight company. Each Brooks kid got to bring five of their friends. Harrison had been Taylor’s best friend that long. Ten years now; since they were little kids.

  It wasn’t until they were in high school Taylor and Harrison started dating. She’d dated a few boys first, kissed some of them, too, and he’d suffered. But two years ago, in his very own bedroom, they finally brought their relationship to the next level, and Taylor told him he was her first. It was awkward, but sweet, and beautiful in its own way.

  That night marked two blissful, intimate years he’d spent with his best friend and love of his life, but now, driving north to what could be the last Brooks party with Taylor’s pretty feet up on his dash, a dread filled him. This year’s party wasn’t just punctuating the end of summer, it put a point on the end of their time together. It marked the clipping of their togetherness.

  In two weeks he’d be attending university here in Michigan, and Taylor would be heading across the country to Santa Cruz, clear to the west coast. They were going to separate schools.

  Taylor was on her phone talking to her sister. “Who ...? ... Which one was he? ... That one? Right, the one with the Charger ... No, I know who you mean ...”

  The first couple years coming north to the party at the lake he could remember Mrs. Brooks bringing up some of the kids in her minivan. Him and Taylor and a bunch of the other ten-year-olds all talking and singing the whole trip. Back then some of the other parents pitched in, even coming up and staying overnight. One year his own mother had chaperoned, taxiing kids in her Subaru, staying up late and telling ghost stories by the fire.

  But times had changed. One noted absentee for the last three years: Mr. Brooks.

  Taylor’s mom, Trish, divorced him and it was an ugly battle. Mom got the house, the Suburban, and even the place by the lake (it belonged to her family, anyway), while Mr. Brooks was in an apartment in Lansing now. Mr. Brooks seemed like such
a nice guy, but when Harrison had supported Taylor through her parents’ divorce, she’d divulged there were fidelity issues. Harrison assumed she meant her father, but recently wondered about it. Mr. Brooks wasn’t much to look at, and he was still single while Taylor’s mom was a bona fide MILF, and she’d dated five men from town that he and Taylor knew of.

  Next to him, Taylor laughed at something her sister said. “I know exactly who you mean,” she chuckled, crossed one foot overtop of the other. She’d painted her toes a pale coral color and wore a gold toe ring on the pretty little second piggy of her right foot. For the second year in a row, Taylor had got herself a cushy summer job at the township doing grounds maintenance. It left her with coppery streaks in her long chestnut hair, and a deep brown tan on her legs, arms, shoulders, and face. That incongruity had her struggling on the weekends to even out her feet, butt, and torso, hanging out by the pool with him sometimes. He’d got an office job at a mega-retailer, and it sucked to be indoors all summer long, but it paid him enough he could buy his mom’s Subaru, so this wasn’t his car’s first trip up to the lakes of the north.

  2

  When North Scout Road came to an end at a gravelly T intersection with Wolf Lake Road, he knew where he was. A slight jog to the left of the intersection and across the street from the nose of his Subaru was a low brick building with a tall peaked roof and white siding. Across the front it read: Walker City Fraternal Order of Eagles. When he was ten, and they used to come up here, a Fraternal Order of Eagles sounded wild and vigilante-like, and he’d wondered what sort of initiation it would take to become an Eagle.

  Something hard and rubber nudged the back of his arm right above the elbow resting on the center console. He looked over his shoulder, saw Kelsey Kay drawing her foot back. She’d poked him with the toe of her black Converse, laying slumped in the back seat looking half asleep while texting on her phone without even glancing up at him. She knew he’d turned around, though, and said, “Go right. I need to go the general store.”

  He said, “You’re not even wearing your seatbelt?”

  “God, Dad,” she sighed and rolled her eyes, “we’ve been driving like almost three hours. You try sitting that long with a strap lashed between your tits.”

  Brady Aaron, her current boyfriend, a full year older and graduated school with a job and everything, gave a perverted chuckle next to her, his eyes lowered to his own phone. He was a hard one to figure out, not being in high school or college, yet hanging out with a girl who was a student. Kelsey Kay’s attraction was understandable because Brady was pretty good looking and the guy wanted to compete in bodybuilding. He wasn’t that tall or big, and the muscle he had was easily hidden under clothes. Just the same, Harrison hated it when Kelsey Kay went on to Taylor about how hot Brady’s body was.

  Harrison stayed at the intersection, no indicator flashing (there was no traffic, and they hadn’t seen other cars for a long while). He looked to Taylor still on her phone talking to her sister, Riley. Aware of the conversation going on around her she nodded yes to him with a smile, ear still pressed to hear what Riley might be telling her. She jammed a thumb to the right in the direction of the general store.

  It was almost two hours north they’d driven on the 65 from Saginaw. A left turn would take them clockwise around the lake and they’d be there in ten minutes. A right would take them around to the north side of the lake and into the tiny town called Walker City where there was a bar and a gas station and a general store. But then they might take another thirty minutes to get to the lake house going that way and he was dying to use the bathroom.

  “General store,” Taylor mouthed to him silently, giving her head small quick affirmative nods.

  “Fine,” he sighed, jabbed the indicator upward to signal right then headed into Walker City.

  3

  The WC Store (had to be Walker City, he figured) was a white clapboard barn building with a black gambrel roof, and someone had plugged a Sunoco setup out front. Old looking store in back, seventies looking gas station out front, refurbished with brand new digital pumps. He’d stopped for a full tank of gas in Whittemore because it was super cheap, and that’s where he’d fill up again when they headed home tomorrow, so he bypassed the pumps, pulled into one of the empty parking spots out front of the store.

  Across the street from the store was a public field with a baseball diamond, and it was populated by moms and dads escorting their little-leaguers for an early game on a Saturday morning. Though, he supposed, it wasn’t that early when you were a mom and dad; it was almost eleven o’clock now.

  He and Taylor had been up late last night, going out to a party with some people she worked the town maintenance crew with; an end of the season get-together at the Outback Steakhouse on Tittawabassee, then back home quick and they packed the Soob (as Taylor called it) with her gear for the big Brooks lakeside weekend. Harrison didn’t get home to mom and dad until after midnight, then up again at 7 A.M., grabbing coffee and cronuts at Dunkin’ Donuts, picking up Taylor, then hustling over to Kelsey Kay’s house to get her and Brady. Her boyfriend Brady had his own car, but Taylor told him he’d fender-bendered a parking bollard outside Scratchy’s Sports bar after a couple beers and his car was in the body shop. Harrison wondered why Kelsey Kay would be dating a guy who was underage going to a sports bar and drinking enough to crack up his own car, but then again Kelsey Kay always had substandard choice in men.

  With the Soob nosed up to bollards (watch out Brady!) that ran a perimeter around a mammoth white propane tank, they all eased their way out of the car and stretched out their stiff body parts; raising hands over heads, extending quivering legs.

  Taylor caught his eye, watching him over top of the car’s roof. She was rolling her head in an exaggerated come-hither face, expressionless but for the margin of humor in her pouted lips.

  The four of them gathered on the passenger side of his station wagon, Brady and Kelsey Kay embracing and kissing, and him aiming to do the same with his Taylor.

  As he came to her, she wagged her iPhone in its pink gummy case then tucked it into the pocket of her khaki shorts. There was news she had to deliver.

  She looked so incredibly sexy right now with her tan and her looking-for-fun casual cottage clothes. Long, thin, bare tanned legs, pretty feet slipped into a pair of Birkenstocks. Over her quite-short cotton shorts she wore a heather gray V-neck and a thin flannel shirt in red plaid. Her beautiful gray eyes were hidden behind a pair of tortoiseshell Ray-Ban Wayfarers.

  He asked her: “What’s the news?”

  With her arms looping around his waist, she kissed his neck and set his insides on fire with how soft a girl’s lips could feel. He rubbed his cheek against the top curve of her skull, put his arms around her upper back.

  To them all, she said, “Guess who’s not coming up this weekend?”

  “KC?” he asked, going for the obvious.

  In Brady’s arms, Kelsey Kay looked over and asked, “Who?”

  Taylor reared her head back so he could see her smile, her eyebrows raised above her sunglasses, then to the other two, she said, “Trish is not coming up this weekend.”

  Kelsey Kay got it right away, her face went happy with the onslaught of possibilities. “Trish can’t make it?” she said.

  “Who’s Trish?” Brady asked.

  “That’s her mom,” Kelsey Kay said.

  That would mean the lakeside house would have no chaperone, no adult supervision. He was at once excited and fearful. He asked Taylor, “Why can’t your mom make it?”

  To Kelsey Kay, she said, “My mom’s going to Myrtle Beach with Steve Sanders.”

  “Wait,” Kelsey Kay said. “The pharmacist?”

  Taylor nodded, smiling, her excitement about to boil over.

  “Hey, good for Trish. Mr. Sanders is hot for an old guy.”

  Taylor asked him, “Want to get some beers?”

  Harrison said, “I don’t have a fake ID.”

  In a pleading sing
song, Kelsey Kay said to Brady, “Get us something?” She turned her chin up to him and pouted like a little kid. She’d died her hair silver before the end of the school year, and now she had the tips rinsed in pink.

  Brady shrugged, said, “I don’t have a fake ID either.”

  Still clinging to Harrison, but talking over his shoulder, Taylor said, “Yeah, but you look like a man with all those muscles. Take off your shirt or something.”