Page 20 of Love Me Fierce

As the kid of a single dad, Logan’s used to having to tag along. Itry to avoid it, but until Dad or one of my siblings can pitch in, he’s stuck with me.

I start the engine and cruise to the exit. “You feel like telling me what happened?”

He heaves a full sigh. “We were walking back from the field and Tyson called Naomi fat, and it made her cry, and he wouldn’t stop.” He shrugs, like his reaction was inevitable. “And you always said it’s important to stand up for what you believe in.”

Principal Franklin’s not-so-subtle accusation flashes in my mind. “I have said that, yeah.”

“Are you mad?” His soft brown eyes tense.

This is one of those critical parenting moments I wish I knew how to handle with instant grace, or for which I had backup. “Couple of things,” I say, pausing at a red light. “Proud of you for recognizing that what was happening to this girl was wrong, and for taking action.”

“But?”

The light turns green, and I accelerate. “What’s something you learned from this?”

“Don’t punch an eighth grader.”

Not exactly the message I was fishing for. “Anything else?”

“Teachers always talk about how we’re supposed to report bullying and stuff, but nothing ever happens, then you get called a snitch. And Naomi’s nice.”

His voice softens at the end, like he’s reliving the experience on the field.

“I agree the process isn’t perfect,” I say.

His cheeks flush.

I hate grilling him, but true teachable moments are rare, and this one is pretty important.

“Is there a teacher you trust?” I ask.

He seems to think this over. “Mr. Gunderson. I guess I could tell him.”

I turn into the police station then back into the slot next to the sheriff’s rig.

“Or Ms. Vivian,” he says.

The fleeting look of yearning he gave her in the nurse’s office returns to my mind. Is this why he didn’t want Sepp to do his immunization last month? He’s got a secret crush on Vivian?

“Doesn’t sound like she’s there consistently.”

He shrugs. “She said I could email her anytime.”

I try to hide my surprise. “That’s pretty thoughtful.”

Another example of how Vivian willingly extends support and care to my kid yet sprouts horns every time I get near her.

“Some lady kept trying to talk to me while I waited,” Logan says, pulling me back to our conversation. “She said she knows you.”

Shawna. I cringe. “She’s a reading specialist. And sort of an old friend.”

He makes a face. “Like you two…”

“It was a while ago.” And it wasn’t serious, though Shawna had other ideas. She was always trying to get me to “open up” about what happened with Logan’s mom. When I dodged, Shawna threw a fit and said it was a sign I didn’t trust her. When I caught her in a lie about her ex who wasn’t actually her ex, I broke it off, but things went sideways quickly. First, Shawna stole her neighbor’s poodle so I’d arrest her. When I didn’t—I gave the poodle, who bit my hand so hard I had to get stitches—back, Shawna drove her dad’s truck through my front lawn, tearing it to shreds. Luckily, Logan was with Dad on a cookout that weekend, so I could fix it and finally finish the fence project I’d been putting off before he returned home.

Yet today, Shawna acted like she was ready to give us another go.

Hard fucking pass.

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