Page 342 of Branded
I didn’t trust it.
I trusted Cas.
Though that was probably because he’d worked so hard to earn it.
I forced a smile, glanced up at Ethan’s teacher. “Almost done, Mr. Philips.”
“Randall, please.”
I nodded, not willing to give verbal agreement to his request because it just felt too weird, and then began moving around the space, filling up the organizers in the middle of each container with the sharpened pencils.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” he asked.
Too familiar. Too nice.
It made my shoulders hitch up.
And…yeah, it was definitely my past coming into play. Ethan loved him as a teacher and he hadn’t come close like he had that day, had seemed to make a conscious effort to keep his distance between us.
Like he knew that I’d been uncomfortable and was trying to ensure I knew I had an exit route.
Yup.
Definitely my past creeping in.
“Julie?”
I blinked, glanced up and safe he was at the Keurig. “Coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Normally, I’d never turn down coffee, even if it felt weird drinking it with “someone in charge.” But I was in my usual end of volunteer session sweat that had me asking why I did this. Every. Single. Week.
Then I saw Ethan’s nametag taped on his spot and knew it was because of the smile it put on his face.
“Sure?”
A nod at the clock. “The kids will be back from recess in a few minutes, and I should finish this before they do.”
“Okay.” He plunked a pod in, closed the lid, and put his mug under the stream that began coming out. Then he spoke again, and it set my insides going tight. “Ethan hasn’t been talking about…” A wave of his hand. “The situation with his dad.”
Thank God for that.
Hopefully, my gently conversations with him had stuck.
“Glad to hear it,” I said, moving to the far side of the room and starting to organize the kids’ work into their respective folders. “I talked to him after the last time you mentioned it.”
Mentioned the fact that my baby had written a letter to himself for a class assignment and that one of the questions he’d asked his future self was if he was bad and that was why he didn’t have a father.
“I’m glad you straightened a few things out,” he said. “And I’ll let you know if I see anything else concerning.”
Concerning? Yeah, it had been concerning.
But, more, it had been eviscerating.
My baby thinking that…
My eyes slid closed.
“It’s not your fault.” Soft words. Not from too close. And, yeah, I’d misjudged the teacher. “This kind of stuff happens in complicated relationships.”
