was a definite sparkle in his eyes. Not the response I was going for. “So, you’re late?”
Shit. I flipped my phone over. “Yes. I have an appointment for my daughter, and I have to go. Now.”
“Anything I can help with?”
Holy crap, he looked sincere. I was torn between bewilderment that he’d really shown up here to ask questions just like that and annoyed as hell that a stranger automatically assumed I couldn’t handle my life.
The fact that I really couldn’t definitely wasn’t on the table for consideration.
Clearly, annoyance won out.
“No. Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this. Ask Hailey for the gate key, she’s at—”
“The front desk. No problem.”
And he’d noticed who Hailey was…perfect. That’s exactly what I needed, a lovesick receptionist who would inevitably get her heart broken when he left.
“I so don’t have time for this,” I muttered.
“So you keep saying.” Beckett stepped to the side.
Shaking my head at my own inability to stay focused, I walked past him, opened the door to my Tahoe, and tossed the binder onto the passenger seat. I started the engine, plugged my phone into the jack to charge, and then put the car into gear.
Then I slammed the brakes.
Being annoyed was one thing. Being an all-out bitch? That was quite another.
I rolled down the window as Beckett reached the front door.
“Mr. Gentry?”
He turned, and so did Havoc, who felt more like a shadow, more an extension of Beckett than a separate entity.
“Thank you…for the steps. Catching me. The binder. Phone. You know. Thanks.”
“You don’t ever have to thank me.” His lips pressed in a firm line, and with an indefinable look and a nod, he disappeared into the main house.
An emotion I couldn’t name passed through me, racing along my nerve endings. Like an electric shock, but warm. What was it? Maybe I’d simply lost the ability to define emotions when I’d turned them off a few months ago.
Whatever it was, I didn’t have time to focus on it.
Ten minutes later, I pulled up in front of the elementary school and parked in the “school bus only” lane. Sue me, the buses weren’t due for another three hours, and I needed every minute I had to get to her appointment on time.
I opened the doors to the school and scrawled my name on the clipboard at the window, signing Maisie out.
“Hey, Ella,” Jennifer, the receptionist, said as she smacked her gum. She was a little older than I was, having graduated with Ryan’s class. “Maisie’s back here; I’ll buzz you through.”
The double doors buzzed, the universal sign of acceptance for entry, and I pushed through, finding Maisie sitting on a bench in the hallway with Colt next to her and the principal, Mr. Halsen, on her other side.
“Ms. MacKenzie.” He stood, adjusting his Easter-print tie.
“Mr. Halsen.” I nodded, then turned my attention to my oldest by three minutes. “Colton, what are you doing here?”
“Going with you.” He hopped off the bench and tugged at the straps of his Colorado Avalanche backpack.
My heart crumpled a little more. Heck, the thing had been so battered over the last few months I wasn’t even sure what normal felt like anymore. “Honey, you can’t. Not today.”
Today was scan day.
His face took on the stubborn set I was all too used to. “I’m going.”
“You’re not, and I don’t have time to argue, Colt.”
The twins shared a meaningful look, one that spoke volumes in a language I could never hope to speak or even interpret.
“It’s okay,” Maisie said, hopping off the bench and taking his hand. “Besides, you don’t want to miss fried chicken night.”
His eyes threw daggers straight at me, but they were nothing but soft for his sister. “Okay. I’ll save you the legs.”
They hugged, which had always seemed to me like two pieces of a puzzle fitting back together.
They shared another one of those looks, and then Colt nodded like a tiny adult and stepped back.
I knelt down to his level. “Bud, I know you want to go, just not today, okay?”
“I don’t want her to be alone.” His voice was the softest whisper.
“She won’t be, I promise. And we’ll be back tonight, and we’ll fill you in.”
He didn’t bother to agree, or even say goodbye, just turned on his little heel and walked down the hall toward his classroom.
I let out a sigh, knowing I’d have damage control to do later. But that was the problem. It was always later.
Maisie slipped her little hand in mine. She couldn’t even be