Page 158 of Reeves

"When do you need me there?"

"Whenever you can manage. We have staff staying until the normal release time, but we're letting everyone know in case you want to get your child early. Also, we've decided to cancel school tomorrow and Wednesday while they repair the system."

My hand finds my forehead. Two unexpected days off school means two days of scrambling for childcare. Mom and Dad normally help, but they're in Mobile until Thursday night.

"I have one more patient today, so I should be there in about an hour."

"That works perfectly. Benjy's in the library with the other kids. They're having story time."

"Thank you for keeping them comfortable."

I end the call and immediately pull up my calendar app. The Hendricks appointment is at twelve-forty-five. I've got a few minutes to spare, and they're close to the school, thankfully.

I was planning to do office work until school let out, but I can do that tonight after I put him to bed.

But tomorrow. And Wednesday.

I'll either need to reschedule those appointments or bring Benjy with me. Neither option is ideal, but I've managed worse.

I open my calendar app and scroll through tomorrow's schedule. Seven patients between the two days. The numbers glare at me from the screen.

Seven families are counting on me. Seven kids who need their sessions.

My fingers tap against the steering wheel as I arrange it all in my head.

I select each of the appointments over the next two days and click to draft an email.

Hi, this is Charli Parsons. Due to an unexpected issue at Benjy's school, I need to reschedule our appointment this week. We can move to a time on Friday, possibly this weekend, or cancel and resume our normal schedule next week. I apologize for the short notice and any inconvenience.

I drop the phone in my lap and close my eyes for ten seconds.The air conditioning hums against the heat pressing through the windows.

I check the clock. It's twelve-forty. Shit. I've got to go. I put the car in reverse and throw it into drive, pressing the gas. Thankfully, the traffic is light, and I get there just a minute after our scheduled appointment.

I grab my therapy bag from the trunk and head up the walkway to their house. This session runs for forty-five minutes instead of the usual hour, so that's a blessing.

Katie keeps getting distracted by a cat outside the window, and Mrs. Hendricks has questions about summer camp accommodations. I answer each one carefully, demonstrating the adaptive techniques Katie will need.

By the time I pack up my supplies, it's after one-thirty.

I drive straight from the Hendricks house to Westlake, switching from therapist mode into mother mode. Work voice to mom voice. Professional posture to protective instincts.

I pull into the school parking lot and find it packed despite the early dismissal. Cars idle in every available space, parents leaning against their vehicles, talking in small clusters.

I park and hurry toward the building, weaving between other parents heading in the same direction.

Inside, the air is heavy and still. It's almost hotter in here than outside. The large industrial fans positioned in a few areas are at least moving the air.

Parents move in slow streams toward the front office to sign out their kiddos. Voices sound muffled in the thick air. A teacher waves a paper fan near the main office, her cheeks flushed pink.

I follow the signs toward the library, stepping around a maintenance worker who shakes his head at an open electrical panel.

The library doors stand propped open with doorstops. Inside, children sit cross-legged on the carpet while a teacher I don't recognize reads from a picture book. Her voice carries thatforced cheerfulness teachers use when everything feels off-routine.

I spot Benjy near the back of the group. His dark hair sticks to his forehead in damp curls. His cheeks are flushed, and his usual alert posture has melted into tired slumping.

He sees me and pushes to his feet without his normal burst of energy. No wave, no grin, just a slow walk in my direction.

"Hey, buddy." I crouch down and brush the sweaty hair back from his forehead. His skin feels warm and clammy. "How was your day?"