Page 42 of Halo

Whatever fragile truce we'd stumbled into evaporates almost immediately, leaving us once again studying opposite sides of the room.

“Listen,” I start. “Leah, I’m sorry—”

“It's fine,” she whispers. “We don't have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about—you know … the other night.”

I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “Maybe we should.”

“Well, I don't want to, Mr. Crawford—”

“Mr. Crawford?” I scoff. “Are you serious right now?”

She glances over at Grady, ensuring he is still preoccupied. “Look, the other night was fun. We were just … two people unwinding from the day, eating candy, playing cards, no strings attached. That's it.”

“Is that all it was to you?”

Leah’s eyes meet mine, the light slowly fading from their vibrance. “Isn't that what it was to you?”

That’s when I realize it: I'm a selfish prick. I’ve been so consumed with my own insecurities and self-doubts that I hadn’t considered how I made her feel. Rejected. Embarrassed. Maybe even used.

If she only knew ...

Except she wouldn't because I literally left her in the pouring rain.

“For what it's worth, I am sorry.”

Leah blinks away, clearing her throat. “I appreciate that, but—” she shrugs—“it's fine. It doesn’t matter anyway. We have to be professional. For your son's sake.”

“Are you pushing me away?” I work my jaw. “Is this because I have a kid?”

She shakes her head. “That has nothing to do with it—”

“Oh …” I rub a hand over my chin. “This is because I'm his father, huh?” I mouth the word father.

Leah's fingers tighten around the armrests of her chair as a faint flush rests on her cheeks. She remains quiet, chewing on her lip, but her silence is louder than anything she can say.

“You think I'm a deadbeat, huh.”

She abruptly turns her head. “Nick—”

“That’s exactly what you think. Isn't it?”

“I … I don't know what I think, to be honest.” She looks back over at Grady, the hint of a smile curling her lips. “All I know is I care the world for that boy. He deserves a father who's—”

“There for him?” I finish her sentence.“I agree. And I'm doing my best to do that.”

“Good.” She nods, staring back down at the papers in her lap. “I guess we'll be working together to support him.”

Grady continues to color, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. So innocent. So unaware that his world is transforming. Leah might have slipped through my fingers, but knowing my kid is in her care is an even bigger relief. “For what it's worth, I'm glad he has you in his corner.”

Our eyes meet again— only briefly this time. She looks away too quickly, retreating behind her teacher composure. A hint of a smile remains, and I spend the next three minutes committing it to memory.

“Sorry, about that,” Mr. Torres says, shutting the door behind him as he makes his way behind the desk. “Let's begin.”

For the next several minutes, Mr. Torres and Leah walk me through the events leading up to the altercation. Between witness statements from staff and conversations with the students involved, a clearer picture begins to emerge of what happened on the playground, and with every new detail, the knot in my stomach pulls tighter. What began as a disagreement between kindergarteners now sounds like a child who felt cornered, embarrassed, and unsure of how to advocate for himself.