Page 13 of Breaker

"Noah, go take a seat, please," I say quietly, and he nods, looking too proud. I go to Andrew, who puts his hand up to stop me from helping him up. It takes several attempts, but he manages to get up, his gaze flashing to Noah, who doesn't shrink back from the glare, a glare I send back to the teacher. It’s wrong that a teacher is trying to scold a five-year-old with that kind of intimidation.

Andrew clears his throat before he says, "I'll leave you to clean the mess, Quinn, and uh, let you call his parents. I'll come see you later this afternoon about that drink."

He turns and leaves while I try not to curse him out.

Taking a deep breath, I look toward the kids who are trying not to laugh, and state loudly, "Okay munchkins, in front of you is paper and some paint. For the next twenty minutes, I want you all to paint me something full of color so I can hang them on the back wall, and then I want you to paint a picture for you to take home for your parents tomorrow."

They all grin, then grabs their paintbrushes, while Noah watches the door for a moment before getting his brush.

I swallow the lump of anxiety in my throat. Crap, he's going to try to scare Andrew off; I can just see it.

With a sigh, I go to my desk to call the janitor…then Noah’s parents.

An hour later, after a very awkward conversation with Noah's dad, who still sounds like an ass and who is late. While the children are in music class next door, I'm collecting the children's paintbrushes to replace them with number blocks for our math session. Noah remains in his seat, painting another picture for his dad.

When I asked if he could stay with me, he happily agreed, but I don't know if it was because he knew his dad was coming in or because, well, he knows Andrew keeps walking past my door, the paint still on his face. I have to admit, I want to laugh each time I see him.

I place all the brushes in the sink when I hear heavy boots echo in the hallway. A very large man with deep green eyes, just like Noah's, strides in like he owns the place. My heart races. The man is basically sex on the legs, right down to the lip ring and silver chain around his neck.

"Daddy…" Noah exclaims with excitement as the man kneels in front of him. He cups his son's cheek, and I swallow hard, straightening the black blouse I'm wearing, hoping I don't make a fool out of myself. This man wasn't nice the last time we interacted.

Whatever….

I walk over to them and clear my throat before stating, "Mr. Mendoza…."

He cuts me off, lifting his hand up to silence me. I raise a brow, but my surprise soon turns into a scowl when he says, "Let me talk to my son." Not once does he look my way. Noah side-eyes me, a little smile on his face when he sees me cross my arms over my chest. I’m not willing to put up with his father's crap.

I snap, "Well, it looks like your manners haven't changed, have they?"

His head jerks in my direction, his mouth opening, probably to snap back at me, but instead, it hangs open, and he freezes, confusing me.

What, do I have something on me?

I look down but don't see any paint or anything, and shake my head. I plant my hands on my hips, stating, "A few years ago, I picked your sons elephant up off the ground, and when I tried getting your attention to politely let you know, you snapped at me and called me a patch chaser, which, by the way, my brother did explain what that means, so thanks for that description of me. And now I call you in here and you snap at me again!"

He winces as he stands, rubbing a hand at the back of his head, the hair on top already ruffled like he's run his hand through it several times. I raise a brow at him, trying to ignore the way his black t-shirt hugs his muscles.

He clears his throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, and I certainly did not mean to offend you that day, years ago. But I did call out to you to say sorry, and I was, am…."

I nod before looking at Noah, who is grinning…. Hmmm.

"Mr. Mendoza?—"

"It's Alex," he cuts in, making me furrow my brows as Noah practically bounces on his seat in excitement.

Didn't Jack say they only offered their government names to the woman they considered their “forever”?

I shake my head and speak forcibly, "Mr. Mendoza, I called you here because Noah?—"

He cuts me off with a wave again, making me narrow my eyes at him but he’s not fazed. Instead, he smirks and states, “It's Alex. What Noah did was out of order, and I plan on punishing him. Is that teacher okay?"

Why does his inquiry about Andrew’s welfare seem insincere?

I shake my head again and reply, "He is okay, thankfully, but this kind of behavior is not acceptable. Noah is a sweet boy, the sweetest—" Noah’s smirk turns wicked. "But since starting two weeks ago, he has gotten in between myself and any male I interact with. This is the first time he's physically harmed someone, and this cannot go on."

Mr. Mendoza murmurs, "Good kid," making me narrow my eyes at him before he clears his throat. "I’ll make it doesn't happen again."

Why do I not believe him?

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