“Thank you, officers.” Forcing a smile, I ushered the pair toward the door. “We’ll call if we hear or see anything.”
The cops ignored Landon and left, giving me a sympathetic nod.
Feeling numb and still unable to believe that someone had vandalized the preschool, I stumbled into my office and got to work. With our expensive check-in system destroyed, I needed to come up with an alternative solution for checking kids in until we got it replaced.
I expected Landon to follow the cops out, but he trailed me into my office, closing the door behind him. I sat at my desk, pulled my laptop from my bag, and silently prayed for miracles as I slid it onto the desk and opened it. The absence of visible damage was promising, so I hit the power button, releasing my held breath when it whirred to life.
Landon leaned his hip against the side of my desk. “What are you doing after work?”
“Why?”
“Because someone attacked your school, and I want to make sure you’re all right.”
His tone was soft and concerned as his presence crowded my office, and I didn’t know what to do with any of it. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. Emotions I wasn’t prepared to deal with made me feel like a shaken can of soda, and I didn’t have time to collect myself. As the administrator, it was my job to solve problems, not to bubble over from the pressure.
“I’m fine.” I opened the preschool’s current roster and converted it into a spreadsheet.
Landon scoffed. “That’s not what I asked.”
I added cells to the spreadsheet, formatting check-in and check-out columns with signature rows. “I’m a little busy, so can we not do this right now?”
“Do what?”
Finishing the spreadsheet, I sent it to print and finally looked up at him. “Pretend this thing between us is more than it is. We fucked, Landon. One time. I’m fine, and I don’t need or want whatever you’re doing here.”
“Showing concern?”
When put like that, my complaint sounded lame, but I stuck to my guns. “Exactly.” He needed to leave so I could have a few minutes to myself before families arrived and I had to assure them that their children would be fine with a massive hole in my tights.
He leaned over my desk and scooped one hand from my laptop keyboard to inspect it, running a finger over my short, jagged fingernails. “These didn’t look like this before.”
I snatched my hand back and stood. “It’s been a stressful week.”
“Have you heard from Ben?”
“No. And I hate you for that.”
“Fair. I’m not exactly your biggest fan right now, either.”
“Excuse me? What the hell did I do?”
“Had you and Mom stayed back like I told you to, neither of you would have been in danger.”
“I’m not sure why you think you’re in charge of me, but I don’t need to listen to anything you say.” Annoyed at how immature that sounded, I headed for the door.
Landon blocked me. “I’m sorry about your brother,” he said, meeting my gaze. “I meant every word I said to him, but I shouldn’t have said it.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. With a little more time, I could have talked Ben into going to the cops, but you took that possibility away from me.”
“He shouldn’t have brought trouble to your doorstep.”
“You know nothing about Ben and me.” Anger clogged my throat, but I swallowed it down.
“Then tell me.”
I owed this asshole nothing.
So why did I want him to understand that Ben hadn’t exactly had the best role models, and he was doing the best he could? That we both were?
