Page 46 of Halo

“Really?” Grady chirps from the backseat.

Nick chuckles. “Really, partner. Just made it official in the front office.” He points toward a laminated placard hanging from his rearview mirror that signifies a car-rider pickup.

“Well, we gotta keep the line moving,” Chelsea says. “Good seeing you, Nick.”

“You too, Chels.” He glances back at me, his smile widening as he lowers his voice. “I'll be seeing you soon, Ms. Harrison.”

Butterflies pirouette in my belly as my cheeks heat. “Goodbye, Mr. Crawford.”

I wave to Grady, shut the door, and quickly make my way back to the curb, deciding that a little distance is probably in everyone's best interest.

"I'm so proud of him,” Chelsea says, waving to a few students. “He's really stepping up to the plate.”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

She leans in closer conspiratorially. “He literally found out about Grady a couple of weeks ago. Like, he literally had no idea Grady's mom was even pregnant.”

Shame rests heavy on my chest as I watch Nick's truck turn out onto the street and disappear.

‘You think I'm a deadbeat.’

His accusation is valid. I was so focused on protecting Grady that I'd filled in the blanks myself. It never occurred to me that there might be pieces of the story I couldn't see.

Gosh, I don't want to be that person.

The irony isn't lost on me. I know better than most how painful it is to have people decide who you are without bothering to learn the truth. How can I expect grace from others if I'm unwilling to extend it myself?

“How long have you known him?” I ask.

“Too long,” she jokes. “He and Julian were roommates in medical school. Why?” She nudges me with a wink. “You interested?”

“No,” I say too quickly. “I mean, no, I was just curious and …” I lose my words as she raises an eyebrow. I sigh. “Nick … is Nick—my Nick. Well, not mine, but—” I huff again. “He's the guy from the bar.”

Chelsea crosses her arms, her jaw opening and closing as she stares at me. “And he didn't kiss you?”

A laugh bubbles out of me. Of all the things Chelsea Santiago could have said at this moment, that was not the response I was expecting. “Did I really misread the signs, or—?”

“No, no, no. I mean …” She shakes her head, mouthing the word wow. “Look. I love that man. He is my brother, and I would go to bat for him, but—” she shrugs—“eh, let's just say monogamy isn't his game.”

“Oh.” I cross my arms, my fingers fiddling with my necklace. “So, Cowboy Casanova draws the line at kissing me. Great,” I joke.

“I'm just saying it's … different. This isn't his MO.” She studies me for a moment, hiding an obvious, knowing smile before blinking away, and looking at the next car in line.

Her words linger, and despite my better judgment, a warmth flutters through my veins.

But it doesn't matter.

The night at the bar served its purpose. We laughed, talked, and enjoyed each other's company for a few hours, but that doesn't mean it has to be anything more. Nick is the father of one of my students, and I have no business entertaining thoughts that suggest otherwise.

***

Stepping into the thick, humid air, I head toward the dumpsters in the well-lit back parking lot of Low Places. For such a slow evening, the tips were generous. I casually glance around the empty lot, my hand gripping my keys tightly at my side. I toss the bag of trash, but before I can pivot around, a large shadow passes over me. I gasp, whirling around as my heart lurches into my throat.

I pause.

The pale glow of the streetlight catches a familiar crooked grin, highlighting a pair of handsome dimples.

I sigh. “Mr. Crawford—”