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I hurry on. “She’s exhibiting some troubling writing patterns. Her teacher would like to refer her to the child study team, but I know for sure that it’s easier and faster for the teachers if the parent asks themselves.” There’s always a lot of red tape in school bureaucracy. When parents get involved, they grease the wheels.
He holds up his hand. “Wait. I’m going to need more explanation. What’s a child study team? And what’s this form for?”
“That’s the Vanderbilt scale. It’s usually the first step to determining if classification is required.”
“Classification?”
“For special needs resources.”
The words fall like bombs between us. “Special needs. Like disability resources?”
I cock my head, nodding. “I suppose it could be. But if we refer Tabby, they’ll test her. They’ll be able to diagnose any learning disabilities she might have. The sooner we intercede on her behalf, the faster we can get her the tools she needs.”
He folds the paper back up and slides it into the envelope. “Do you think she has a learning disability? Is that what this is for?” His voice is sharp, even though he keeps the volume down so he doesn’t bother his sleeping daughter. Still, it’s an accusation, and I can see he’s upset, hurting even. He’s lashing out, and my heart aches for him.
“That form is specifically for ADHD, but they’ll use it to find out if anyone’s witnessing emotional or behavioral challenges.”
“What do you mean, anyone else?” He’s in full glare mode.
“Her teachers will fill them out and the guidance counselor, anyone who can give additional insight. They’ll look at all of them together, see if there’s a pattern.”
He paces across the room to the window, staring out and giving me his back. I can feel him struggling with his emotions. I don’t know him well, but my guess is that his desire to protect Tabby is warring with his desire to do whatever is best. When he speaks, it’s a low growl. “Is it… discreet?”
“Discreet?”
“The testing process. Will the other kids in her class know what’s going on?” He runs his hands over his hair, and the words hit me like knives. “Will she be embarrassed?” he asks, his voice rough.
I take two steps toward him before I force myself to stop. All I want is to take on some of this burden. Raising Tabby alone after losing his wife, holding his daughter’s world together while he does one of the most physically demanding jobs in the world… his strength awes me. When I met him, I thought he was arrogant, full of himself. But now I see he’s just guarded and protective.
“No one will know, not unless she tells them.”
He nods, and when he turns to face me, his jaw is firm. “Do you believe this is the right thing for her?” The question is soft and genuine.
I swallow to make sure my voice doesn’t shake when I answer. “I do.”
“Then we can fill this out this weekend, and I’ll send whatever email you think I should send to ask for this referral.”
I can’t stop myself anymore. I step forward, and I wrap my arms around him. He’s a mountain, all thick muscles and rangy limbs. He tenses against me, and I think he’s going to push me away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he folds me against his body. I close my eyes.
He smells amazing, like expensive men’s cologne and something evergreen. I allow myself to curve around his body, to sink into the warmth of him. When he speaks, his breath fans my ear. “Thank you.”
A shiver races through me, and heat rolls down my spine, like sun-warmed honey. I don’t know what he’s thanking me for, but we’re too close. This is too intimate. I pull back, and he lets me, tucking his hands in his pockets. I look down, anywhere but at him. “Of course. No problem.”
He nods, and then he strides toward the couch, scooping his daughter into his arms like she weighs nothing. “Good night, June.”
“Good night.” I watch him carry her upstairs.
Duke
Fortherestofthe weekend, I don’t allow myself to spend time with June alone, save for the half hour we spend together on Saturday after Tabby goes to bed, filling out the Vanderbilt scales. Even then, I sit across the island from her, and I am careful not to touch her. Like she’s a fucking land mine in my house.
If June notices, she says nothing. She’s her usual energetic self the entire weekend. Now that the basketball hoop is up, on Sunday afternoon, she tries to show Tabby how to shoot. When it’s clear she is as bad at basketball as she is at dancing, I take over. Before long, Tabby tosses the ball in the hoop easily from the lowest setting, and I crank the apparatus to lift the basket a couple feet.
As I guide Tabby’s hands to hold the basketball, I notice June watching us. Her face is soft.
My body tightens as I think of holding her on Friday night, remembering the feel of her pressed against me. She fit there, but it was more than that. She wanted to comfort me. I tilted my head into the curve of her neck, and her scent was irresistible. A few more moments, and I would have pressed my lips on that skin. I was seconds from tasting her.
But she pulled back, stepped away. She saved us. I should have been strong enough to do it, but I hadn’t been. With June, the temptation is too much.
