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And I've always wanted my classroom to be somewhere they could screw up without believing the world was ending.

But lately? I'm not being understanding.

I'm distracted.

There's a difference.

I'm standing in front of twenty-two students explaining elemental transmutation while half my brain is wondering where Grimm is.

The other half is worrying about my Wolf.

And some small, pathetic section in the middle keeps circling back to the bite on my shoulder that still hasn't disappeared.

Two weeks.

It's been two freaking weeks, and it's still there.

So, yeah, I'm distracted.

Assignments aren't getting returned as quickly as they should.

I've forgotten things.

Yesterday, I started explaining an experiment I'd already taught them the week before, and not one student corrected me because apparently teenagers will happily sit through the same lesson twice if the alternative involves actual work.

And for the first time in my career, I'm ashamed.

Because whatever is happening in my personal life isn't their fault.

These kids deserve better from me.

Maybe that's why I lose it on Randall and Evangeline.

Not lose it lose it.

I'm still me.

But when I look up halfway through Thursday's lab and realize their stations are empty?

Something inside me snaps.

Again.

“Seriously?”

Twenty-two students stare at me. I count heads even though I already know exactly who's missing.

Randall.

Evangeline.

A month ago, I would've sighed. Maybe rolled my eyes.

Probably sent them a message telling them to get their butts back to class before somebody noticed.

Not today.

Today, I'm tired.