“And here.” She lifted her cup. “Iced tea. There’s at least half left.”
He hesitated.
“Good grief. Here.” She thrust the tea at him. “For someone who’s quick to give gifts, you seem awfully reluctant to take them.”
“Oh?” he asked dryly. “How does that feel? To want to give something to someone who’s reluctant to take it?”
She laughed. “It’s my turn to complain about you! You’re not allowed to twist this into an opportunity to complain about me.”
On the next play, Dylan jogged onto the field. Leah cupped her hands around her mouth. “Go, Dylan!”
They were too far away for Dylan to hear. She scooted forward on the seat, back straight. The play went off. She shouted encouragement, clapped, winced, then clapped some more as the boys regrouped in a huddle.
Watching her was the best entertainment in Georgia.
“You got this, Mountaineers!” Leah yelled.
A few minutes later, the team failed to convert on third down and had to kick. She shook her head. “When they run the ball, they convert on third down sixty-seven percent of the time. So I’m not sure why they attempt to pass on third downs.”
“Can I go get a candy bar?” Rudy asked his wife.
The older woman released a frustrated sigh. “You already had half a Kit Kat, remember?”
“I’m still hungry.”
“Here. I have some carrot sticks in my purse.” Tess handed Rudy the snack she’d packed in a Baggie.
“Pretty soon,” Leah whispered to Sebastian, “Rudy will make a trip to the restroom and, when she’s not watching, buy and eat a cupcake.”
“I like them.”
She surveyed him from the corner of sparkling eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
In a short period of time, she’d become too important to him. Stupidly important to him. His old priorities had crashed like a game of Jenga, and now she sat at the top. Which left him vulnerable. He’d been trying to hold himself and his emotions in check. He was losing the battle, though, and that knowledge planted a seed of dread in him.
If he was smart, he’d live in the moment, enjoy the time he had with her, and accept whatever came.
Instead, he’d begun to long for promises from her she wasn’t ready—might never be ready—to give.
He wanted her to promise that she’d love him forever.
That she wouldn’t leave him.
That she wouldn’t die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The following afternoon, Leah waited anxiously at the curb outside her house for Sebastian. She could count on him to be either early or punctual, and he was scheduled to arrive three minutes from now, at 1:45 p.m., to take her to a production of Fiddler on the Roof at the historic theater downtown.
Above, charcoal-tipped clouds spat drizzle. She pulled up the hood of her quilted jacket.
Sebastian’s Mercedes rounded the corner, and she exhaled with relief. He came to a stop before her, and she slid onto the passenger seat.
“Is something wrong?” he asked immediately.
“Yes, but let’s drive while I tell you about it.”
The car slid forward, windshield wipers clearing the field of vision. Pinpricks of rain. Cleared again by the wipers. Pinpricks of rain.
“I have a student named Claire,” Leah said. “I’ve told you about her, right?”
“Yes.”
“She’s this very kind, awkward, uncertain sixteen-year-old who has a dad with an anger management problem. He yells and screams and breaks things, but so far he’s stopped short of harming his children. Or so Claire says.”
He shot her a grave look.
“I gave her my number in case she ever needed to reach me, and she just texted me. She says things are bad right now and asked if I could give her a ride to a friend’s house.” Leah consulted the directions her phone had generated. “Stay straight until we get to Lemon Lane, then take a left.”
“Doesn’t this fall under the purview of child protective services?”
“CPS will get involved if they have reason to believe that a child is suffering emotional neglect. However, that’s a difficult accusation to prove in a way that’s legally binding.”
“Okay. What about referring her to a school counselor?”
“I did, but she hasn’t gotten to know our counselor well yet. I had Claire in class last year and again this year. I think she’s more comfortable with me.”
“Are teachers allowed to pick up students at their homes?”
“In this district, the answer is yes.” She twisted to face him. “I realize this is unorthodox and inconvenient. But I’m glad that Claire has asked someone—in this case, me—for help.”
“I don’t care that this is unorthodox or inconvenient. I do care, a lot, about your safety. I don’t like the sound of the dad with the anger management problem.”
She didn’t like the sound of him, either. She could understand why Sebastian might think it unwise for her to involve herself in Claire’s family life. Yet he hadn’t looked into Claire’s face and experienced a powerful tug of empathy and concern. He didn’t have a seventeen-year-old brother, so he couldn’t have the same soft spot for teenagers that she had.
Leah texted Claire.
We’ll be there in five minutes.
No response.
They pulled into a development of 1980s tract homes aspirationally named Tranquility River. Slivers of space separated structures with tiny fenced backyards. On Serene Court, dehydrated shrubs clung to the planting beds outside Claire’s two-story home.
“There’s a gun cabinet in the front room,” Sebastian said.
She could see it, too. The lights illuminating the downstairs front room provided a clear view of the interior.
Claire did not emerge.
Leah sent Claire another text, alerting her to their arrival.
Still nothing.
“Why isn’t she answering my texts?” she wondered out loud. “I’m worried.”
“I’m worried, too.”
“Should I go knock on the door?”
“No. If someone needs to, I’ll go. But I don’t think it’ll help. I can’t imagine a parent sending their daughter off with a man they’ve never met.”
“I think I’ll try to call—”
“Is this her?”
Leah’s vision swung up. Claire hurried down the front walkway.
Sebastian walked around the car to open the back door for her.
Leah punched the button to lower her window. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Claire said in a small voice.
Leah introduced Sebastian as Claire got settled in the back seat.
“You okay?” Leah asked while Sebastian returned to the driver’s side.
“Mmm-hmm.” Converse and jeggings poked out from today’s huge black sweater. Her skin looked pale; her reddish ringlets weary.
“Are your sisters and brother all right? We can give them a ride somewhere, too, if needed.”
“They’re all right. It’s me he got mad at.”
“Where to?” Sebastian asked.