Page 38 of XOXO, Yours

That shuts me up.

Because it's true. Six weeks. Six weeks of him on my couch, telling me about Addison’s disastrous attempt at sourdough and the time Oliver got headbutted by a goat. In all of that time, I never once asked him a single thing about himself that wasn't safe. I made very sure of it.

That was the whole point. Don’t know too much. Don’t get too close.

It shouldn't sting.

"So you just decided to become a substitute teacher?"

“There was a need. And I figured I owed it to myself to see if I truly want to do this. It feels right to me; it’s why I studied what I did in college. But it would require me to disappoint my family and step away from the family business.”

"What about the ranch?"

He shrugs, but there's something underneath the gesture.

"I like the ranch. I'm good at it. I just don't know if I want it to be the thing I do for the next forty years."

That stops me.

Because this isn't flirting. There's no teasing in his voice now.

He's serious.

Before I can ask anything else, the door swings open. A little boy with glasses peers inside.

"Mr. Blankenship?"

Payton immediately turns toward him. "What's up, buddy?"

“How am I supposed to do number four? Because Mrs. Ball hasn’t taught us about all of the states so how am I supposed to color in Mississippi?”

Payton crouches so they're eye to eye.

"Well, if Mrs. Ball hasn’t taught it yet, I'm thinking she probably doesn't expect you to magically know it while she's gone."

The kid considers this. "What if I try?"

"Then I'll help you."

"Okay."

He disappears.

Payton stands.

I stare at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow.

Another child appears in the doorway. "Mr. Blankenship, Ava took my pencil."

"I did not!" a voice shouts from the hall.

"It has my bite marks.”