“Schools have political agendas?” A phrase Lucky learned from Bo. Her assessment backed up his earlier suspicions.
“Doesn’t everybody?” She returned to whatever fascinated her on her computer screen.
Surely no one would be stupid enough to pull such a stunt just to hold onto students, would they, especially a school already under a microscope? Lucky continued his searches. Every now and then, visions of Bo holding a baby came to his mind.
A shadow fell over his desk—a large shadow, but not as large as a year ago. Walter Smith stood in the cube’s entrance. “You haven’t seen Bo, by any chance, have you?”
“No, sir.”
“If you do, tell him I need to see him in my office.” Walter ambled off without saying what he wanted with Bo. Bo? Out of Walter’s pocket? Lucky texted,“Bo, where are you?”
Five minutes passed, ten minutes. Lucky gave up waiting for an answer and went back to work. First, Bo hid his plans from Lucky, and now Walter?
Sure, the counselor said Bo had made tremendous progress in recovering from forced drug dependence and PTSD, but had he backslid? Why else be so secretive?
Two hours before quitting time, a text from Bo said,“Come home. I need to talk to you.”
Oh fuck. What now?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Bo paced through the living room, tugging at his hair, back and forth, from the fireplace, to the front door, to the sliding glass door, and back to the fireplace. How much had he paid to get Charlotte and Ty out of the house?
Craning his neck from the relative safety of the couch nearly gave Lucky whiplash. “Say what’s on your mind already.”
Bo stopped in his tracks, meeting Lucky’s gaze and turning away.
Not good. Not good at all. Lucky stood up and timed his steps to intercept his agitated man. Placing his hands on Bo’s shoulders, he braced himself for bad news. “What? Just spit it out already.”So we can deal with itremained unsaid.
Bo tried to wrench out of Lucky’s grasp, but Lucky wasn’t having any of Bo’s running away. At last Bo sighed a breath that should’ve ruffled the curtains—in the next room. “Lucky… I…” He ran his hand through his hair again. While Lucky loved the freshly fucked look as well as the next man, the panic on Bo’s face made him want to find whatever upset his partner and open a can of whoop ass.
“Out with it.” It wasn’t like Bo didn’t know how to speak his mind. Especially when riled.
“It’s about Yolanda.”
What the hell? Lucky felt the wrinkle forming between his brows Bo once declared deep enough to plant potatoes. He took a deep breath and braced for impact. “What about her?”
Bo parked his ass on the couch arm, resting his hands on his knees, his hair no longer in danger of being yanked out. “Well, that first night, when I took her to the hospital?”
“Yeah?”
“The doctors thought she might lose the baby.”
Nothing new. Guilt niggled, though. When had Lucky last asked about mother and son? “The baby’s okay now, right?” He didn’t dare give away his hospital visit.
Bo jumped up and stalked the room again. If Lucky wasn’t positive Bo didn’t touch the stuff, he’d suspect a caffeine fest at the local Starbucks. “For now. But while waiting for the doctor and test results, she and I talked.”
“About what?” Lucky’s heart double-timed, waiting for the bad news surely coming his way. Dragging the conversation out only added to the stress.
“Music. Kids. Anything to take her mind off the situation until the doctor had a chance to examine her.” He whirled and faced Lucky with a shrug. “You know how long it takes in the emergency room.”
Yes, Lucky did. Too fucking long. “And?”
“And she asked if I had any kids. I told her no, but I’d like to one day. Then she asked if I was married. I told her I had a partner. You know, the normal stuff people talk about.”
Not normal for Lucky, but normal for Bo, apparently. “I heard she’s been asking lots of questions about you. You don’t suppose she’s gotten ideas in her head about you, do you?” He’d seen Bo rocking and feeding Yolanda’s baby. Yeah, he could see where she might get the wrong idea.
Once again Bo dragged his hand through his hair. “Possibly, but not in the way you might think.”
