Garkin doesn’t answer right away.
I look at him.
“Well?”
“She’s got one. Four or five, from what I heard. Name’s Ben. Smart. Bit of a firecracker. No file on the dad.”
My pulse kicks.
“No file?” I echo.
“No record. No claim. School forms list her as sole guardian. No birth cert with a male named. She’s keeping it tight.”
I lean back. My tail curls instinctively along the barstool footrest. My mind’s already racing.
If she had a kid—ourkid—would she really keep him from me? For this long?
Then again… I left her in a wreckage of chaos. Not by choice, but still. Five years is a long time to survive alone.
“She ever ask around about me?” I ask, voice quieter.
Garkin hesitates. “I think she assumed you were gone for good. Buried. Or… worse.”
She thought I wasdead.
I nod once. Let that settle. Then exhale through my nose.
“I’m not walking into her door like a thunderstrike,” I say.
Garkin raises an eyebrow. “You’re not?”
“No. She’s got a life now. Aroutine.You said the kid’s in school?”
“Kindergarten. Local academy.”
I run my tongue over the edge of a fang.
“She ever mention anything to anyone about trouble finding decent teachers?”
He squints at me. “How would I know?”
“She tell anyone the class needs structure? Stability?”
“Oh,that. Yeah. She gripes about it at the corner cafe. Some day-shift worker overheard. Said she was on her fourth sub this month. Last one quit mid-day.”
I smile. A slow, wicked,completely logicalsmile.
Garkin sees it.
“Oh no.”
“Yes.”
“No. Boss. No. You’renot?—”
“I am.”
“You’re going to fake credentials and insert yourself as a substitute kindergarten teacher?”
