Gaffin shuddered. “I’m going to a class. Brandon signed me up.” Was it just me or were his cheeks rosy?
“Good. Brandon’s an okay teacher.”
Gaffin glanced at me with a small furrow between his brows.
“Will you be all right in his classroom?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” His lip curled, and I shrugged. He was slowing down, and I was dying to ask him if I could push the chair.
“You were attacked there.”
He grunted and shoved his chair forward a bit faster. Instead of pissing him off with my request to help him move around, I darted ahead and opened the door at the end of the hall for him.
“Can I push you? You’re still hurt.”Fuck, so much for not asking.
He stopped and coasted, glancing at me. I let the door swing shut behind us. “Since you’re asking, yeah.” He ducked his head, and I swore I heard a mumbled “thank you.”
“Don’t get weepy on me now, Gaffin.” I tapped his shoulder, then grabbed the handles on the chair and pushed him forward. Our trip through the blocks took much less time with me motoring him along.
He probably would have rioted if I’d said out loud that he was pouting, but that’s what he was doing with his elbows resting on the chair arms and his bottom lip jutting just a tad… and I didn’t hate it.
“How long’s the class?”
He shrugged and tilted his head back so he could glance at me before he faced forward fast. “I missed the morning, so I’ll be there for a couple of hours this afternoon.”
I hummed. We were quiet as we passed the visitors’ lounge and communication room as we made our way toward the classroom. “I’ll come back to get you and make sure you’re at dinner on time.”
He flushed, and this time there was no missing the pink on his face as he nodded.
“I do have a job to do here, though, so if you could try to stay out of trouble, that would be great.” I let go of the handles of the chair and opened the classroom door for him. The small smile he gave me as he wheeled past had my face warm, too. It was stupid to care what happened to Gaffin as much as I did, and it was dumber still to feel anything for him, but I liked seeing him happy.
And I was scared to death about what it might mean that he knew the name Tatum Black.
4
Peter
Brandon walkedaround the front of the classroom carrying a book. He flashed an easy, wide smile that had, so far, only seemed friendly, and his blue eyes gleamed with an excited happiness I couldn’t understand.
“This is just revision,” he said, pointing at some math problems on the whiteboard that weren’t too bad. It was a good feeling to know I could still do long division, which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but so much of my life was in the shitter, it was great not to feel like a complete dunce. “Next week we’ll get into some new material.” He rambled on, but I could barely focus on what he said, just like I hadn’t concentrated much since I came in here earlier.
Panic clenched my jaw and had my heart thudding too fast as the people around me started getting up from their single wooden desks. There was rustling as papers were shuffled together and stuffed into workbooks. Some of the guys had textbooks in their hands as they made their way toward the door at the back of the room, laughing and talking to one another on the way. I sat and stared at my hands on the desk.
Tatum had seen me.
He recognized me.
Fuck, I want a drink.
In all my life, I’d never thought I’d actually be face-to-face with him again, or maybe I’d hoped never to find myself in this situation. But it was happening, and I was not as prepared to die as I’d once thought.
No, there was still a twisted spark of hope alive in me that made me want to do something with my life. Messed-up as it was, I’d seen a ray of sunshine in the way Greene seemed to think I was a fuckingperson. He acted like I was someone worth taking a chance on. And he’d kept me from getting into more trouble. But why? I glanced up at Brandon, who had so far been nothing but kind. Where had these people been years ago when I’d needed someone? Before I could let myself get mad at the world, I focused on Brandon as he walked along an aisle near me, straightening a few desks into line.
“Doing good there, Peter?”
“Sure.” I winced at the quaver in my voice.
“Do you want some help getting somewhere?” Brandon blinked his bright blue eyes in my direction. TheHelpful Boy Scoutroutine fit him and seemed to be his actual personality. He wasn’t selling anything or trying to get one over anyone. No, he was just fucking nice. To top it all off, he looked good, with just a hint of dark five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. I wasn’t used to men like him and… Greene. They had expectations of me. It had been so long since I’d been accountable for anything. I’d been stuck in a foggy alcohol pit I’d made myself.
