Page 102 of Cornered

“So, I guess we’re not meeting for Mocha Mondays anymore?”

Lahela turned at the clipped tone behind her and found Nancy standing there with two to-go cups of coffee, looking hurt. She’d completely forgotten about their standing coffee date. “Oh, Nancy, I’m so sorry.”

Nancy set one of the cups down on Lahela’s desk. “I brought this back since I was already there.”

Guilt riddled her for letting her friend down. Again. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

“I know.” Nancy’s tone came out sharp, but then her shoulders relaxed. “But I figured there had to be a reason for you standing me up.”

Lahela deserved Nancy’s irritation, but she wasn’t sure how much detail she wanted to go into. She at least deserved to know missing coffee this morning wasn’t intentional.

“This weekend was rough.”

The tight lines around Nancy’s eyes softened a little. “What happened?”

The morning bell rang and Lahela was relieved. “It’s a long story.” Her eyes flicked to the posters. “And I’m a little homesick, I think.”

Concern tugged at Nancy’s features, erasing her earlier irritability. “You’re not thinking about moving back again, are you?”

After Trevor broke up with Lahela, she was ready to eat humble pie and move home, but Nancy really showed up for her as a friend and encouraged her to stay in Texas.

“I just...” Lahela didn’t want to lie, but she wasn’t ready to admit the truth. “Miss home.”

“If Hawai?i was my home, I’d be missing it too.” Nancy smiled. “Forget about this morning. I’m ordering lunch for us today and you can tell me about your weekend.”

Lahela wanted to refuse, but after letting Nancy down already this morning, she didn’t feel like she could. “Sure.”

NOTHING MADEYOU STOPthinking about your own troubles more than spending four hours with seven- and eight-year-olds—especially when it came to discussing the human senses. Somehow a strawberry-scented car freshener quickly began smelling like Damon’s little brother’s poopy diaper and Brady’s dad’s farts, causing her to cut short the lesson before it got worse. Because with second-grade boys, it always got worse.

Lahela never imagined she’d appreciate the distraction of boy humor more than she did today. She walked out the front door of the school and found Nancy sitting at the cement picnic table next to the fenced playground where their students were enjoying their lunch break.

Nancy started opening the takeout bag. “You hungry?”

“I’m starving.” Lahela had just sat down when movement by the fence caught her attention. She squinted against the sun and saw a man talking to some students. Rising, she began walking in his direction. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

Either the man hadn’t heard her or was ignoring her. Apprehension washed through her and she slowed her approach. The man’s fingers were laced through the fence, and he leaned on it like it was holding him up.

Lahela looked back at Nancy, but she was already moving in the direction of the office, following protocol to alert the security officer.

She turned back to the man. “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t—”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” The man spun on her, rising to his full height, which towered over her by several inches. “That’s my kid and you, this school, the law doesn’t get to tell me I can’t see him.”

Lahela had no idea what the family situation was, but clearly law enforcement was involved.

“Sir, you really should leave.”

“I said I’m not leaving!”

Lahela flinched, expecting him to come at her, but instead a hooded figure rushed around her and shoved the man backward. Before she could identify who had intervened, yelling drew her attention to Principal Maestros, Nancy, and the school security officer as they ran over. A police cruiser screeched to a stop, and two officers were already out of the car and charging toward the man. Thankfully, the students had already been shuffled off the playground, including the man’s son.

“Are you okay, Lahela?”

She frowned at the scene unfolding slowly around her, realizing she knew that voice. Unease crawled over her skin when she met his eyes. “Trevor?”

THIRTEEN

“WHAT DIDTHE POLICE SAY?”Briggs steadied himself on the ladder. The sound of wood splitting caused him to pull back on the screwdriver he was twisting with more aggression than necessary to secure Lahela’s new security system into place. He’d called her after school, hoping to revisit their date discussion, but the second he heard her voice he knew something was wrong. When she told him about the incident at school involving a volatile custody battle and then Trevor showing up, it took every ounce of self-control to not overreact. Going out to buy the best security system on the market and installing it the second she got home from school wasnot overreactingat all. “You filed a report, right?”

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