He tilted his head, studying her face. "You okay?"
Busted. Of course he sees through me.
"Nope, I’m great,” April said, deflecting. “Principal Pirogue hasn't bothered Kevin since I threatened to sue, Leslie's lawsuit threat was all bluster. Kevin's been thriving. Spending all that time with you has been good for him."
"And the fact that he's stopped asking me to spend the night?" Shane asked quietly. "You convinced him you're okay if I'm not there?"
April felt heat creep up her neck. They'd had to have a very careful conversation with Kevin about how grown-ups needed privacy sometimes, and how April was perfectly safe in her own house, and how Shane couldn't spendeverynight because he had work and his own house and Pete to take care of. Kevin had finally, reluctantly, agreed.
What Kevin didn't know was that Shane would be spending the night at April's house while Kevin was on his class camping trip, starting tonight.
Still sneaking around like teenagers, but it works.
"He's more secure now," April said. "He knows you're not going anywhere."
Shane's hand found hers, warm and steady. "Damn right I'm not."
They walked into the school together, and April tried not to notice the way conversations paused when people saw them. Tried not to care that Leslie frikkin Trent Sumner was standing near the entrance with a cluster of other mothers, her eyes narrowing when she spotted April, then immediately going wide with disbelief when a moment later she clocked Shane.
Okay, she did care. It felt fucking fabulous to see the jealousy absolutely radiating from Leslie.
The classroom had been decorated with streamers and a hand-painted banner that read "Congratulations Third-Graders!" Desks were pushed off to the sides of the room, folding chairs were set up at the back facing the whiteboard at the front, and April led Shane to seats near the middle.
"This seems like a lot of production for third grade," Shane murmured as they sat.
April bit back a smile. "They do this every year, all the way through fifth grade."
"Do they get participation diplomas for aging?"
"Hush." But she was grinning now, relaxing despite herself. "It's sweet. The kids love it." She got her phone ready for pictures so she could show her family later.
The ceremony started with Principal Pirogue welcoming everyone and making a bullshit speech about growth and learning that was mercifully short, then he headed for the next classroom, probably to say the same thing. Then the third-grade teachers called students up one by one to receive certificates and say a few words about their favorite part of the school year.
When it was Kevin's turn, he bounded onto the stage with the kind of confidence that made April's throat tight. Despite all the crap this school gave him, he was grinning at the crowd like he owned it. April held up her phone to record his speech.
"My favorite part of third grade was all the times I actually got to go to recess,” Kevin said into the microphone. His classmates burst into laughter and the teachers squirmed, uncomfortable smiles on their faces.
Serves you right.
Then Kevin’s eyes found Shane in the audience, and his grin widened. "And my favorite part of this whole year was meeting my friend Shane."
April felt Shane go still beside her.
Kevin kept going, oblivious to the way several heads turned to look at them. "Shane taught me that it's okay to be scaredsometimes, but being brave means doing hard things anyway. Also, he has the coolest dog ever."
Laughter rippled through the crowd again. Shane's hand tightened around April's.
After the ceremony, the whole school gathered in the cafeteria for lemonade and cookies. Kevin dragged Shane over to a cluster of his classmates.
"This is my friend Shane," Kevin announced proudly. "He was in the Navy. He was an S-W-C-C,” Kevin spelled. That's Special Warfare Combatant-craft Crewmen. They're the ones the SEALs call when they’re in trouble."
One of the boys—April recognized him as Oliver, the class brain—looked up at Shane with wide eyes. "Really? What kind of boats?"
Shane crouched down to the kids' level, and April watched him patiently explain riverine operations in terms eight-year-olds could understand. He was so good with them. Patient. Kind. Not talking down, but not overwhelming them either.
Her heart did that flutter thing again. Worse this time.
"Well, isn't this cozy."
