Page 270 of Branded
His run toward me ending up in a tangle of limbs, backpack straps…and that bottle flying out of his hand to collide with the concrete and roll steadily down the path in front of school.
Well, I supposed that solved the unsolvable mystery of Ethan’s water bottle.
Moving toward him—steadily, but not running because he wasn’t crying and didn’t appear to be injured—I went to pick up the water bottle?—
“Julie.”
Christ.
It was Mr. Philips.
I’d successfully avoided him since the uncomfortable conversation from a couple of days before.
Not any longer, apparently.
I snatched the bottle, glanced up to see that at least he’d helped Ethan up and hadn’t just stepped over my child like he was an obstacle to bypass.
Ethan liked him, but he’d only been in school for weeks, and there was a real possibility that the shine would wear off—especially if Mr. Philips couldn’t take a hint, and then it affected how he interacted with my son.
Then I’d have to go mama bear and things would get complicated.
Mr. Philips squeezed Ethan on the shoulder as I straightened. “All good, Ethan?”
A nod. “Thanks.” Ethan spotted me. “Mom!”
Then his arms were wrapping around my waist, and he was squeezing the air out of me…and it was glorious.
My bull in a china shop, my little boy who was growing too fast, my loving and generous son was in my arms and hugging me tight.
God, I loved him.
More than anything.
“Thanks for the assist,” I told Mr. Philips cautiously, squeezing Ethan as he rotated in my arms.
“No problem.” A smile that almost made me forget the earlier awkwardness. “I know a little of what it’s like to have two left feet.” He ruffled Ethan’s hair, then glanced up at me, lips still curved. “How are you?”
His question brought that awkward right back into the forefront of my mind.
“Can I talk to you privately for a moment?” He tilted his head slightly to the side.
“Umm…” Shit. I was going to have to do this, wasn’t I? Make it clear nothing could happen. A stifled sigh as I caught the determination in the teacher’s eyes. Yup. I was going to have to do this. Scanning the area, I spotted one of Ethan’s friends running like a madman on the grass. “Can you go play with David, bud? I just need to talk to Mr. Philips for a minute.”
Who would hopefully get the clue that he was only Mr. Philips and would always only be Mr. Philips.
“’Kay,” he said and dropped his backpack and bottle at my feet before running off.
Yup. That was definitely how his water bottle looked like it had been gnawed on by a gremlin.
Mr. Philips stepped off the path, toward a section of grass that wasn’t full of people.
Gut churning, I followed him, trying to fill my mind with ways to let him down easy, even as I spiraled with all the ways this was certainly going to go wrong.
I was going to have to be in the principal’s office. Or speak to the school board. Or?—
“Thank you for talking with me,” he said. “I hope I’m not keeping you.”
Except from running away from this conversation I wanted to avoid.
