His intense eyes are glued to me, but when my gaze finds his, he lowers them. “I saw the Band-Aid on Sherm’s hand.”
I nod and force the grimace off my face. “There was an incident in the playground. The boy who pushed Sherm was sent to the office and his parents were called.”
His gaze lifts to mine. “Did Sherm . . . retaliate?” he asks cautiously.
“No! He was really brave—he didn’t cry—but no, he didn’t push back or anything.”
He nods slowly. “Okay.”
“Also . . . I need to complete Sherm’s reading assessment tomorrow, but to do that, he’ll need to read out loud for me.”
His gaze grows cautious. “Has he started talking here at school?”
“Very little. I’ve sent him home with a book about sharks. If you can maybe have him read a little aloud tonight, that might make him comfortable enough to read for me tomorrow.”
His eyes harden and his mouth pulls into a line. “I’ll talk to Lee . . . see if she can work with him.”
I nod. Lee. That must be the woman’s name. I want to ask why he doesn’t work with Sherm himself, but when I glance past Rob and find the woman watching us, I decide to wait until we can have the conversation without an audience. I wave to Sherm as I back toward my room. He returns my wave from the backseat.
As I watch Rob and the woman climb into the car drive away, I refuse to let myself acknowledge the bruise the happy family scene left in my heart.
I head into the classroom and drop into my seat. This is so unlike me. I’ve always kept my head around guys, which is the reason I’ve also kept my virginity . . . not that it’s a lifestyle choice or anything. It just never felt right with the guys I’ve dated. But beyond the physical attraction that there’s no point denying, there’s Rob’s quiet intensity. Just his presence demands attention. I’ve never met anyone like him.
I start logging the math homework grades in the computer to clear my head, then settle in to read Sherm’s essay for his writing assessment. When I’m done, there’s a lump in my throat, and I feel like I might finally have some answers.
* * *
I wait until Dad’s settled in watching the news after dinner to cross to the front door. “I’m going over to Chuck’s to change out Frank’s plugs. I’ll be home in a while.”
“Okay, punkin. Pick your old dad up some Chunky Monkey on the way home, will ya?”
“Sure, Dad.”
I pass Len’s Market in the middle of town and make a mental note to stop on my way home for Dad’s ice cream. Across the street, the front of the decrepit blue tin auto shop is dark, only the MURDOCK & SON sign above the roll-up door lit by a dull bulb. As I drive slowly past, I see a swath of light from the window out back illuminating one of the cars Chuck keeps for parts in the dirt lot next to the building. He’s home. I take a quick scan and see only his truck parked up front, so with any luck, he’s alone.
I take a left into the parking lot of Polly’s Diner, next to the garage, and think about going in to ask her about Chuck, but I know he hasn’t opened up to his mom since he’s been home either. I cut through her parking lot and double back to the garage driveway.
The second I swing my car door open, I hear head-banging metal screeching through the building to the tin roll-up door to the car bays up front—music so angry that just the rhythm winds me tight from the inside out.
Maybe he’s not alone.
This is new since he got back from Afghanistan eight months ago. He needs everything full blast now, like regular life just isn’t stimulating enough anymore. And that applies to every aspect of his life, including his women. I’ve never asked where he finds them, and I don’t even want to know what he does with them, but I’ve seen some of the stuff he’s rigged up in his apartment, and I know whatever it is isn’t missionary-style.
I lay my palm on the garage door and feel the metal vibrate under my hand with the heavy beat. My heart pinches a little and I almost climb back into my car. Chuck is one of the best people I’ve ever known.