"You don't have to say anything." He shrugged. "Just don't break him, okay? He's not as tough as he looks."
I glanced across the room. Shane was helping Rodriguez's daughter hang a paper snowflake, crouching down to her level, listening to her instructions with complete seriousness.
"Neither am I," I said.
Brian nodded like that was exactly the right answer.
We stayed until dark. Zoe fell asleep in the truck on the way home, her head against the window, the faint smile still on her face. Shane carried her inside and tucked her into bed while I stood in the doorway, watching.
"Best Christmas ever," Zoe mumbled, already half-gone.
Shane looked at me. I looked at him.
She wasn't wrong.
The first day back from winter break, the teacher's lounge went quiet when I walked in.
Two weeks away from this building. Two weeks of Christmas mornings, firehouse dinners, and falling asleep on the couch with Shane’s arm around me while Zoe pretended to be disgusted. Two weeks of feeling like a person instead of a machine running on caffeine and obligation.
Now I was back. And so was the gossip.
It was the particular hush that meant people had been talking about me and weren’t quite fast enough to pretend they hadn’t.
I caught the tail end of whispers as I crossed to the coffee machine.
‘Shane Briggs.’
‘The dance.’
‘Did you see the photos on Facebook?’
Let them talk. I didn't care anymore.
Mrs. Patterson sat at her usual table, salad fork poised mid-air, watching me with that look she'd perfected over thirty years of teaching. The one who said she was cataloging everything for later use. I met her eyes and smiled, pleasant and unbothered, and had the satisfaction of watching her purse her lips and return to her lunch without a word.
Small victories mattered.
"Maya!"
Linda appeared at my elbow, coffee cup in hand, eyes bright with curiosity.
"You look different." She studied my face like I was one of her students' art projects. "I can't put my finger on it, but something's changed."
I poured my coffee, added creamer, and took my time.
"I don't know what you mean."
"You're glowing." Linda leaned closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is it true? About the firefighter?"
I should have deflected. I should have given her a non-answer and escaped to my classroom.
Instead, I smiled. I didn’t even try to stop it.
"Maybe."
Linda's face lit up. "I knew it! Oh my god, Maya, that's amazing. He's gorgeous. And the way he showed up at the dance? For Zoe?" She clutched her coffee cup to her chest. "That's like, movie-level romantic."
"It was pretty great," I admitted.
