Page 42 of Tanner

Miles stood. “Okay.”

TJ’s voice stopped him before he got to the door. “Miles.”

He turned back and looked at TJ. “Yeah?”

TJ held the papers loosely in one hand. “Don’t get too close.”

Miles’ jaw tightened. “I won’t.” Though he knew that was already too late.

“Make sure you do.”

Miles held his gaze for a second, then nodded and left the office.

The rest of the shift continued normally after that. He took a call about a loose horse, and wrote up a statement for a fender bender in the grocery store parking lot. Every ordinary task only seemed to sharpen what he knew.

Tanner had a house and that mattered, but also Tanner didn’t have the one piece of paper everyone else would treat as more important than the years of keeping Savannah clothed, fed.

By the time Miles left, he’d made up his mind.

He wasn’t going to wait for the next form, or question, or the next well-meaning person to get involved. He would bring it up himself and give Tanner a chance to hear it before somebody else forced it on him.

Because if Miles came at him like a deputy, Tanner would run. He already knew that. And if Tanner ran again with Savannah, then he might never come back, and Miles wasn’t sure if he wanted Tanner and Savannah to disappear from his life.

Chapter Twelve

Tanner reached the preschool five minutes early and stopped across the road with Savannah’s hand in his, looking at the low brick building beyond the fence. There was a painted sign by the gate, a row of small windows with paper cutouts taped inside, and a fenced play area around the side with a plastic slide. It looked nice and that should have helped, but it only made him more aware of how hard he was working to make this look normal.

Beside him, Savannah was singing to herself while she swung the little bag he’d packed for her.

“You ready?” he asked.

She nodded hard enough to make her ponytail bounce. “I’m gonna make friends.”

Tanner managed a small smile. “That’s the plan.”

He adjusted the strap of her bag, tightened his hold on her hand, and led her across the road toward the entrance with his face set in what he hoped passed for calm and collected when he felt anything but that.

Inside the preschool, the reception area was bright and clean. A low shelf held books and puzzles. Children’s drawings covered one wall in a cheerful mess of paint and paper and crooked handwriting. Somewhere deeper in the building, kids were laughing. Tanner kept hold of Savannah’s hand and approached the desk.

A woman in her forties with short brown hair looked up from a clipboard and smiled. “Hi there. You must be Savannah.”

Savannah pressed closer to Tanner’s side and looked up at him first.

“This is Savannah,” Tanner said. “We’re here for intake.”

“Of course.” The woman stood and came around the desk. “I’m Laura. We spoke on the phone.”

Tanner nodded once. He remembered the call. Laura had sounded capable and kind, which had made the whole thing easier.

Laura crouched to Savannah’s level. “Do you want to come see the room where the painting happens?”

Savannah looked at Tanner again. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

Savannah gave a small nod.

Laura smiled and stood. “You can both come in for a look, then we’ll finish a couple of forms.”

She pressed a button under the desk, and a door beside reception clicked open. “This way.”