Page 48 of Halo

“And in the meantime?”

Over the next several minutes, I walk him through the same recommendations I'd made to Tiffany, from reading together every night to working on sight words to incorporating counting and letter recognition into everyday routines.

Nick soaks up every idea like a sponge, sharing his own creative ways to incorporate learning. I recommend a few of my favorite dinosaur books that are perfect for Grady's age, and he asks me to repeat the titles twice before typing them into his notes app.

Staring down at his phone, he nods confidently before peering up at me. “Thank you, Leah.”

“Of course.” I open my car door. “I better head home. School night.”

“Right. Of course.” He tips his head to me in a quiet goodbye.

I slip into my car and turn on the ignition. Rolling down my window, I wave one last time, but he stops me.

“Just for the record, I’m not stalking you.”

I snort. “Okay. Cowboy. Then why are you always out here when I close up?”

He shrugs before tucking his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

My breath catches. A rush of warmth pools low in my belly as my fists tighten around the steering wheel.

I stare at him, not having a clue what to even say, and yet for some reason, simply being with him fills the silence.

We can't do this.

This is ridiculous. I don't even know him—not really. A few conversations and a handful of stolen moments should not be enough to leave me this flustered.

The problem is my heart is blissfully unaware of the fact that if I don't get out of here soon, I'm liable to do something incredibly stupid.

Like stay.

I offer him one last smile before easing out of the parking lot. The further I drive, the harder it becomes to ignore the hammering in my chest because no matter how many times I tell myself it was a simple act of kindness, my heart seems determined to make it something more.

The next morning arrives far too quickly. With a large coffee in one hand, an overstuffed satchel digging into my shoulder, and a stack of books teetering against my chest, I make my way toward the building.

Before I can make it to my hallway, the secretary stops me. “Ms. Harrison? You have a delivery this morning.”

I raise an eyebrow. “A delivery? At—” I glance at the clock—“seven?”

She nods, holding the door open.

I walk into the quiet office and instantly pause. Sitting in the middle of the room is a pink rolling tote bag with dozens of storage features.

I slowly set my coffee down on the counter. “Is this … for me?”

The secretary buzzes with excitement as she nods. She takes my books and rescues my shoulder from my oversized bag. “Trust me. You're gonna need both hands.”

Resting on top of the tote is a single bag of peach rings with an envelope taped to the package with my name scrawled on the front.

Effective immediately, no more scavenging through the lost & found. It's time to leave your life of petty crime behind. Attached is a link to your new online wishlist. Need it? Add it. Want it? Add it. Your students ask for it? Add it.

Everything will be taken care of.

-NC

I nip at my bottom lip, a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep in my chest. Honestly, the nerve of that man …

“Keep going,” the secretary instructs, her hands clasped over her heart.