Page 65 of Spring Rains

He poked the marshmallows under the surface of the drink, his expression thoughtful. “Can I ask you something, Dad?”

“Of course.” I sat down next to him again with a coffee, wondering what grenade I’d be thrown next.

“Did he ever say sorry to you?”

Oh shit. Way to tear into my chest and expose all the raw nerves. “No, he didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” I’m not sure what I was apologizing for.

Fox glanced up at me, his eyes clear. “Nah, it’s all good, Dad. As long as we’re together, it’s okay.”

His words filled me with a mix of pride and relief. Despite the challenges we’d faced, Fox was growing up to be resilient and understanding. In his young mind, he had accepted the situation, to look ahead, rather than dwell on the past.

I hugged him, feeling grateful for his strength and wisdom, far beyond his years. “You’re an amazing kid, Fox. I’m so proud of you.”

“Can you message Chris and ask him what’s happening?”

“Sure.”

Noah: Fox is here with me. Is everything okay with Ainsley?

Sending the message was enough for Fox to calm down, and when he griped at me about not having enough marshmallows, I knew my fierce teenage Fox was back.

I just hoped to hell Ainsley was as resilient.

ChapterTwenty-Five

Chris

As it turned out,I didn’t get to take Ainsley to the principal because she called for me to go to the office first. Ainsley came with me, but when I saw Pastor McKenna through the door, I made Ainsley sit outside, a worried Clarke hovering next to him.

“What is he doing here?” Ainsley asked, then rounded on me, his eyes wide with fear. “I’m not lying, Mr. Sheridan. I’m not lying.”

I pressed my hand to his forearm. “I know you’re not lying. We’ve got this,” I reassured Ainsley, who gripped Clarke’s hand and held it tight.

I knocked on the door of the principal’s office, then wheeled in, passing Pastor McKenna, who stared at me without emotion. A religious man, he was not only a parent, but also one of our most influential board members, and he had made it clear, on more than one occasion, that he held me personally responsible for what he saw as the moral decay of the school. I sat there, trying to maintain my composure while McKenna voiced his disapproval. His words were laced with a disdain all too familiar to me, but he didn’t know what Ainsley had just finished telling me, nor that I’d already uploaded the recorded interview through the correct channels.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Sheridan,” Evie said.

McKenna sneered. “Mr. Sheridan, is setting a poor example.” He pointed in my direction. “My son came home and began talking about subjects not suitable at a dinner table. We can’t have someone likehiminfluencing our children, and I’d like to know what the school intends to do about this.”

I exchanged a glance with Evie, who subtly shook her head.

McKenna’s conservative views and influence on the school board were undeniable. As he directed his ire towards me, I felt a mixture of frustration and disbelief, and anger that he’d laid hands on his teenage son.

I bristled at the accusation, my mind racing for a response. He wanted to know what the school was going to do about what? “I’m teaching a state-approved ninth grade syllabus, Mr. McKenna. Not providing some kind of gateway to…” I struggled to find the right word, knowing whatever I said could either escalate or diffuse the situation. “… to radical thinking,” I concluded.

“Your lack of respect is abysmal!” McKenna bellowed, turning away from the principal, who lifted her phone from the desk and pressed buttons—I hoped she was getting Neil out to the school—we could do with the sheriff on the property given what this asshole had done to Ainsley. “Is this the kind of influence we’re allowing in the school?” His words were laced with such vehemence that I felt a chill run down my spine. McKenna’s religious fervor was well known, but to witness it being directed at me was unsettling. I couldn’t even think what it must be like to be a child of his, struggling with my identity. McKenna was relentless. He leaned towards the principal, speaking in a hushed, urgent tone. “I found filth on Ainsley’s phone. Men… kissing men. It’s abhorrent.” He was so damn smug, and I just knew what was going to happen next—he was going to pull the Bible verse defense.

Just then, the door burst open with such force it silenced everyone in the room. Ainsley stood there, his chest heaving with what seemed like a mix of anger and bravery, and I pushed myself out of my chair, ready to go to battle if needed—pain be damned.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” Ainsley demanded, his eyes flicking between his father and me, Clarke right behind him. Ainsley’s eyes were wide, and there was fear there, and a hell of a lot of confusion and anger.

McKenna was taken aback by his son’s sudden appearance, but then he sneered. “Ainsley, this is not the place…”

But Ainsley was undeterred. “Why are you here? Did you know I was going to tell them you hurt me?” The evidence of betrayal in Ainsley’s expression killed me. “Why are you shouting at Mr. Sheridan?”

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