Читать книгу His Texas Forever Family - Amy Woods - Страница 8

Chapter Two

Paige took a deep breath, put a hand on her son’s shoulder and squeezed it gently.

“Owen, say hello to Mr. Campbell. He’s the new art teacher. You met this afternoon in class.”

Owen said nothing but looked up at Liam and reached out a small hand. He seemed to know instinctively that the adults had been talking about him, and Paige resisted the urge to reassure him that he wasn’t in trouble. It was important, the therapist had told her at their weekly meetings, to try to let Owen make his own decisions about interactions, to let him be uncomfortable at times, that the silence would at some point naturally urge him to speak. Paige had her doubts about that, but what else was there to do? If Dr. Roberts, who came highly recommended by people Paige trusted, couldn’t help Owen, then who could?

“Hi there, Owen,” said Liam. He offered a gentle grin and, rising from his chair, reached out to shake Owen’s suddenly trembling hand.

“That was some dragon you started this afternoon.” Liam’s eyebrows rose in admiration. The corner of Owen’s lips turned up, ever so slightly, at his new teacher’s compliment. “I’ve never seen such a great dragon before, and I can’t wait until it’s finished.”

Paige glanced at Liam over her son’s head as tender gratefulness filled her. Instead of pushing Owen to talk, or asking incessant questions despite the child’s silence, Liam simply treated him like a normal kid. Usually Owen was wary around new people, but somehow this man had caused her child to give a hint of a smile. But Paige told herself to stop thinking down that line. She should know by now not to wish for miracles for Owen.

Owen let go of Liam’s hand. He looked up at his mother as if asking her what he was supposed to do next, the familiar nervousness and desire to retreat into himself returning to his eyes. Paige squeezed his shoulder again and knelt down so she could look directly at him.

“Owen, why don’t you go out to see Emma and keep her company while I finish talking to Mr. Campbell? I won’t be long, and she has some new coloring books in her bottom drawer for you.” Owen’s shoulders relaxed with relief as he gripped the straps of his small red backpack. Paige put a hand on his back and nudged him out the door. She pressed the intercom and asked Emma to watch her son for a few moments.

Liam, still standing, lifted his hands, palms up. In his green eyes Paige saw the pity she found over and over in people’s faces when they discovered what Owen was going through. It never got any easier to stomach.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Liam asked.

A million conflicting emotions flooded through her. So he had noticed Owen’s silence, and seemed aware that it wasn’t just shyness or first-day nerves. Part of her admired Liam for that. A less observant teacher might have overlooked it completely, but this one had caught it on the first day in only an hour’s time. He must have more substance to him than his actions thus far had indicated.

On the other hand, she struggled to separate “mom” from “assistant principal,” though she knew she’d have to in order to talk about her son with his new teacher.

Paige shook her head and crossed her arms. The comfort she’d felt only a few moments ago vanished completely and she struggled for the right words to describe the complexity that was Owen’s selective mutism. Most people had trouble understanding how and why a child who had always been verbal could just stop talking, and their comments, though well meaning, could be hurtful.

“I would, actually—yes—but I don’t want you to treat Owen any differently from any other child just because he’s my son.”

Paige hesitated, alternating between feeling a desire to unburden herself and wanting Liam to take his sympathy and leave. “Mr. Campbell...”

“Liam,” he corrected.

“...Liam. It takes time for most teachers—and most people, for that matter—to even notice that Owen doesn’t speak to anyone but me. He tends to keep to himself and blend in. I admire that you were able to pick up on it so quickly. No doubt I judged you, and your teaching abilities, too quickly, but I’d appreciate if you’d think of Owen no more or less than any other child in your classes.”

“I get it,” he said, moving toward the door. “It’s the first day of school and it’s understandable.”

The kind concern left his eyes and for some reason he seemed to bristle at her words. His body visibly tensed, as though he felt insulted.

“I can assure you that Owen will receive no special treatment from me on account of who his mother is.”

Paige nodded. Each time she’d interacted with Liam, awkward tension seemed to arise, and she wished she could erase it. “But,” he said, the words lilting softly with his gentle West Texas drawl, “it’s mighty important to me that you know that my tardiness this morning will not be a regular thing, and I apologize. I’m very much looking forward to working with the kids and I want you to know that I take this job seriously.”

He hesitated as he watched her face closely, his green eyes searching hers. He took a step closer to her, and though he remained at a respectable distance, a strange shiver ran up Paige’s spine.

“And you can trust me,” he added

Despite his kindness toward Owen, Paige didn’t want to trust Liam Campbell. Even trustworthy men, like Mark, could be taken from you at the drop of a hat. She stepped forward and opened the door for him.

As he walked out, Liam met her eyes. Paige wondered if she would ever be able to look at him without her silly heart skipping over his incredible handsomeness. It would be pretty inconvenient if not.

“Listen,” he said. “About Owen...if you ever need to talk about what’s going on with him—strictly teacher to assistant principal, of course—I’d be glad to discuss it further with you. I have some experience in childhood therapy, and I’d be happy to share it with you.”

Paige shook her head. “That’s kind of you, but unless Owen has a problem in class or he’s not getting work done that he needs to, I think I’ve got it under control. He has a therapist who we’re both working with and, well, the man’s supposedly the best there is.”

But the best hadn’t been good enough to help her son so far. At what point was she going to admit that Owen might never speak to anyone besides her again? What if her nightmare came true and he caved further into himself and stopped speaking altogether, even to her? When would she be able to admit, to herself and to everyone else, that he just wasn’t getting better?

Paige didn’t want to think about that now.

“Okay, then,” said Liam. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“Thank you,” she said, trying to smile reassuringly. Most of the time there seemed enough of her to go around, but only just. Paige’s mother had raised Paige and her sister alone when their father had left. So Paige could manage, too. She’d have to, after the loss of Mark.

She had to admit, though, that she was curious about what experience Liam might have with Owen’s disorder. On any other day, she would have allowed Liam to speak more about it. But right now, Paige wanted nothing more than to simply rest her muscles in a boiling hot bath, then curl up on the couch with Owen—and maybe a glass of red wine, which was an indulgence she rarely allowed herself, but one she could sure use today.

Paige collected Owen, agreeing to let him take home one of the coloring books that Emma kept for family conferences. Owen grabbed the book and his backpack, and they made their way out to Paige’s old blue pickup.

“Hey, Owen, want to stop at Barb’s for dinner?” she asked, as they stepped out of the air-conditioned school and the warm summer afternoon wrapped itself around them.

Owen’s blue eyes widened and he nodded his head vigorously at the name of their favorite diner. Once settled in the car, they headed toward Main Street, the August heat dancing in shimmery waves across the asphalt. They both averted their eyes when they passed their old house, which Paige and Owen had shared with Mark as a family. She tried to ignore the urge to pull into the driveway and settle back into her old life. As much as she might wish it, Mark would not be in the backyard, grilling burgers on his day off, or waiting in the kitchen for her with a glass of wine, ready to listen to her talk about her day at work. That life was gone now.

She and Owen had done their best to remain in the house for as long as possible after Mark’s death. Paige had been concerned that if they moved, any remaining stability that Owen had in his tumultuous life at that time would have vanished just like his father, so she’d kept the house and had kept Owen from knowing how tight the walls felt around her. She’d kept to herself how hard it was for her to live there. But eventually, to her relief, Owen had asked Paige if they could leave the house and she’d agreed.

The house was large and beautiful, almost as old as the town of Peach Leaf itself, and had been in Mark’s family for years. It had been a gift from his grandmother when she and Mark had married, and they’d accepted it with the starry, hopeful eyes of newlyweds before they’d realized what went into maintaining such a place. Paige had grown tired of cleaning it, refusing to hire a housekeeper for something she was perfectly capable of doing on her own, but it had been home, and they’d loved it like the family member it was.

At least until Mark’s death.

Paige could still recall the way her heart had dropped straight to the bottom of her chest that night. The doorbell had chimed as she’d finished clearing the dinner dishes and she’d opened it to find Fire Chief Garcia and one of Mark’s colleagues standing on her front porch. She’d barely been able to focus on the chief’s words as he’d gone over the details of the incident and Mark’s success at retrieving an infant, before he died of smoke inhalation.

She shuddered at the memory.

When she and Owen decided to move away from the house, she’d walked through each room, lingering for long moments to store the place in her memory. And now each time they passed, she wondered if they’d ever be free of their loss. If they would ever be able to rebuild as a family.

After dinner, which consisted of Barb’s incredible fried chicken and a dessert of homemade vanilla ice cream, made even sweeter by the red vinyl bar stools and black-and-white checkered tiles that Owen loved so much, they headed home, or at least what had passed for home for the past six months.

As Paige drove, Owen chatted about his first day, and her heart did an unwelcome little flip when he mentioned his new art teacher. It seemed Liam Campbell had occupied both their minds all day, whether she liked it or not.

They arrived home to their condo, which was just outside of town and close enough to work that when the weather was nice, they could bike to school together. Paige did the best she could to spend as much time as possible with her son. Though she often wondered if her career was too stressful at this time in her life, she enjoyed her position and especially loved being around the kids. It was a good job and it allowed Owen to have what he needed. She just wasn’t sure anymore what exactly it was that he did need, and, the longer he went without speaking to others, she was losing hope in her ability to provide it.

Her thoughts wandered again to Liam as she got ready for bed, and she tried not to dwell on his offer to discuss Owen. She didn’t need another person to make promises and offer new ideas or treatments. They’d all had enough, and it was getting to the point where Paige was beginning to accept that this was just going to be their life.

* * *

The next day at school, Paige avoided Liam. All they’d had was a simple, professional exchange...there was no need to deal with him any further today, unless something came up with Owen.

So why, then, could she not stop thinking about him? There was the part about him being incredibly good-looking. But what was it that kept him on her brain through her morning conferences, through phone calls with parents and through her break? Unfortunately, she had the teacher meeting at three that afternoon, just after school let out. She would have to be chatty with everyone, Liam included.

When Paige arrived at the assembly, the cafeteria was pulsing with teachers milling about, sharing stories from their summer just like the kids had the day before. Paige wondered if anyone else had heard the rumors swirling that Principal Matthews was thinking of retiring

There had been a time when Paige would have loved to take over the position, but after Mark’s death, when she’d suddenly turned into a single parent, she had put the thought of becoming principal out of her mind. Besides, she probably didn’t have enough experience to get Principal Matthews’s job, and there were plenty of teachers who had been working at the school far longer than she. Still, Paige couldn’t help mentally crossing her fingers on the off-chance that she had a shot.

Sure, it would be difficult. For one, it would mean even longer hours and less time with Owen. But, on the other hand, it would mean that Owen could get better care if it was available. Dr. Roberts regularly suggested an after-school therapy group of kids Owen’s age at their Wednesday meetings. Paige had been seriously considering it but adding more therapy was costly, and the additional hours were not covered by Owen’s medical insurance.

She found a seat at an empty table as the last of the staff began to file into the cafeteria. Paige had always struggled to socialize with her employees at gatherings like these, feeling as insecure as a student again. She was expected to behave a certain way as an assistant principal, and she should maintain a certain distance between herself and the faculty, although she’d spent years teaching with many of them.

Despite her position, Paige still considered them equals, and many of them would always be her friends. But she’d made the decision when she’d first accepted this position that it was better to remain distant from all of them at such events rather than to have anyone thinking that she favored certain individuals.

It was better to be alone.

* * *

The cafeteria was full of staff when Liam arrived that afternoon, but he didn’t recognize a single face. He really did need to make an effort to leave his classroom more and at least make an attempt to get out of his shell to make friends with his new colleagues. He and Callie had had a wide social circle in Abilene, and he missed getting together with friends. He guessed he would just have to make new ones...eventually.

Another unpleasant side effect of their painful divorce.

His eyes scanned the crowd for anyone he might have met, even briefly. He’d been hired late in the summer, but even in the few summer professional development days he’d attended, he had been too interested in learning the workings of a new environment to do more than share a few words with anyone.

Just as he decided to be the first to occupy one of the empty tables at the back, he caught the enchanting sunny glow of Paige’s headful of curls. Liam knew he was acting like a damn fool as he gravitated toward her, but by the time he could do anything about it, she’d caught him coming and it was too late to turn around.

“Hi there,” he said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table at the far end—where there was no way she’d get the wrong impression. He had no intention of bothering her. Plus, he didn’t think he could stand to hear her inform him yet again how little she needed his help.

In his career, he had seen many parents who wrestled with the idea of alternative therapy like the kind in which he specialized. Generally, he dealt with them at the stage in which they were open to such an idea. Paige wasn’t there yet, but against his better judgment, he was finding it awfully hard to resist the urge to persist and recommend that she bring Owen to his hospital sessions. He knew it was selfish, but helping Owen would inevitably equal more time with Paige, a thought that became more appealing each time he caught sight of her. He hadn’t wanted it, but he couldn’t ignore his growing attraction to the woman.

She greeted him with a tense smile, her eyes working to focus on him as though she’d been distracted.

“Hi, Mr. Campbell,” Paige said, moving quickly to pick up her pen. She busied herself flipping through the packet of papers in front of her.

Liam didn’t correct her this time. He’d figured out that she preferred the distance of last names when it came to addressing faculty. If he had to guess, it probably made her feel like less of the teacher she’d likely been before she moved to her current position and more like a boss. He’d had plenty of administrators like her in his time, but, for some reason, this one didn’t make him want to run in the other direction. In fact, she had the opposite effect, which he wasn’t keen to admit. He had no business circling the assistant principal like a bee to honey.

Yet, there he was, at her table in a cafeteria filled with empty ones.

“I don’t really know anyone yet, so I guess you’re the unlucky tablemate of the new kid,” he said as he slid down the table toward her.

Liam was surprised when Paige laughed, the melodic sound tickling his ears and spine. She looked up from her notes and the violet-blue of her eyes glittered at him. It was the first time he’d seen this softer side of her, and he wanted more. What would it take to get her to smile at him like that again and again? Whatever it was, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“I don’t mind much. No matter how long I’ve been here, I always still feel a little like a newbie,” she said.

Liam returned her smile. “I would think that in your job, you’d know everyone.”

Paige looked down at her papers again and Liam instantly wanted her eyes back on him.

“I suppose in a way I do, but it’s difficult being in my position. It puts certain...expectations...on my interactions with other teachers.”

Immediately after speaking, Paige bit her full bottom lip, as though she’d said too much. She shook her head a little and put on what looked like an attempt at a confident grin.

“But I love my job. I really do. It’s just that...well...” She shook her head and looked up at him again. “I guess every position has its rough spots, doesn’t it?”

Liam nodded, hoping he could reassure her. He realized once again that he’d go pretty far to get her to smile at him again, to see those berry lips part one more time and her eyes crinkle around the corners.

With force, he pulled his gaze away from her mouth and met her eyes.

“That it does,” he said. “But I love my job, too. It’s one of the hardest jobs in the world but also...”

“The best,” Paige filled in.

Liam laughed. “Yes, it is pretty great. I’ve wanted to work with kids in some capacity since I was one myself, and I’ve always loved art.”

Paige grinned and Liam noticed a hint of mischief this time.

“So were you like me, then, with dolls circled around your bedroom waiting with eagerness to hear every word you had to say?”

She was teasing him, he realized, though it felt strange coming from the person who’d been so tense just the previous afternoon. But she was also irresistible.

“Not dolls. Army men,” he said.

Paige laughed again. This time, her mouth opened fully and, before he could stop himself, his mind wandered into the dangerous territory of what it would feel like to have his lips against hers.

He really needed to make some friends—male ones. He was way out of line thinking this way about anyone right now, especially about his boss.

“Ah, I see. Army men, then. Same thing.”

“Not the same,” Liam retorted, frowning in mock seriousness.

Maybe there was more to the dragon lady than met the eye. Maybe she did have a soft underbelly.

Maybe he could get her to show him more of it.

“Did you always want to be a teacher, then?” she asked.

Liam nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Although grad school’s opened up some new doors, and now I’m working toward a doctorate in art therapy while I teach.”

Though his father had laid it on thick from the beginning that he disapproved of Liam’s career choice. It had interfered with the man’s plans for his only son—plans that existed prior to Liam’s birth and about which Liam had never had a say. His dad had always wanted Liam to go into the family oil business, and Liam’s open disinterest in the company had done nothing to dissuade the man. He’d pushed and pushed until Liam hadn’t had any option but to push back even harder by flat-out refusing to take over when the time came for his father to retire.

“I’m impressed,” Paige said, raising her eyebrows.

“I don’t think there’s anything out there like working with kids. You get access to these great little brains that are just starting to form ideas and perspectives about the world. And you get to watch them process it every single day and see the way their eyes light up when they’ve worked really hard and they finally understand. It’s really something, if you ask me.”

Liam looked up to find Paige watching him intently, and he felt silly. He always got a little mushy when he talked to people about his job.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I just really have a passion for it.” Almost unlike anything else. But since starting grad school and spending time with the kids in his art-therapy classes, he’d decided that, ultimately, becoming a full-time therapist was the best path for him. Both teaching and art therapy offered so many promising avenues for children to heal and process grief, but as soon as he completed his doctoral studies and the internship, he would set up a full-time practice of his own.

“I think that’s great, actually,” Paige said, interrupting his thoughts. “I wish we could find more like you. The kids need people with that kind of passion and interest in them.”

“And I think my favorite medium is a great way to get to know them on a deeper level. Kids will do a lot of things with art that they can’t do anywhere else.”

“What do you mean?” asked Paige. She’d leaned closer to him across the table and she was staring at him, her blue eyes intense under furrowed brows.

“I just mean that art is one of the best forms of communication.” Tentatively, he added, “It’s also the best way, sometimes, for people to heal.” At that, Paige scooted back a little and her eyes darkened. “Did I say something to offend you?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just that word—‘healing.’”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing. I just seem to find myself thinking more and more about what it actually means for someone to be healed from something.”

Liam knew he was getting closer to the core of Paige’s discomfort, whatever it might be. He guessed it must be related to Owen’s condition. It wasn’t a normal thing for a kid to completely stop talking, not unless there was real trauma at the bottom of it. His first thought had been that maybe there was an abusive father in the picture, but Paige had been very clear that she was a Ms., not a Mrs., so possibly that was out—at least he hoped it was.

But he couldn’t figure out what else it might be. Usually, children didn’t have such reaction to normal, everyday kid problems. It wasn’t like a bruise that would gradually heal itself, transitioning from black to purple to yellow, before it simply disappeared. Selective mutism was almost always a response to something very far out of the ordinary. Regardless, Liam knew it couldn’t be anything good, and, for some reason, he felt compelled to find out what may have caused it.

The truth was, he had something different to offer Paige and Owen—in the form of art therapy, of course. Liam figured Paige wouldn’t be open to it at first. Most parents he worked with had trouble understanding how art could help their children process their emotions. But maybe, just maybe, if he worked slowly to convince her, he could help her son get better. As it was, Owen was probably missing out on social experiences in his formative years. In fact, Liam estimated that, if the boy didn’t make major progress soon, resulting emotional damage could last beyond his elementary school years.

Liam could tell easily that Paige was a good mom—a great one, in fact. He knew, though, that often parents were so close to their kids that they lost the ability to see any alternative ways to help them. It was as though they’d sunk into an ocean of advice and needed to be pulled above water again to breathe and start fresh. As a teacher, it was his duty to help each child.

And his desire to help Owen had absolutely nothing to do with the ridiculously lovely Paige Graham.

* * *

Before Paige had a chance to say anything more, a microphone crackled up on stage. Principal Matthews addressed the staff, then a barbecue was laid out, filling the air with its rich, enticing scent, and Liam and Paige joined the long line of teachers to get their plates.

Paige knew she should have been mingling with a few teachers, but she had gotten sidetracked...by Liam. It was unnerving how easily he seemed to grab her attention. He was so close that she couldn’t concentrate on anything else but his presence behind her. She needed to watch out; otherwise she’d be entering territory she wanted to stay as far away from as possible. Even though six months had passed since her husband’s death and she truly wanted to move on at some point, the idea of letting Mark go completely was new enough to frighten her. Taking a step in that direction would be a risk she wasn’t yet certain she should take.

As Liam filled his plate, Paige headed off to grab a cup of sweet tea. Despite the delicious aroma that initially caused her mouth to water, and the passing plates piled high with some of her favorite dishes, she somehow wasn’t hungry anymore. And she needed to get back to work.

She circulated around the room, armed with her tea, and greeted all the new teachers before catching up with some of the more seasoned ones, many of whom had been close friends when she’d been in the classroom herself. She found herself relieved to be free of Liam for a few minutes. Something about him drew her in. Something comfortable and safe that had her stomach churning with uneasiness—a warm feeling she hadn’t had in a long time.

Sometimes she wondered if she’d ever really had a chance to grieve her husband’s death, so obsessed had she been with making sure Owen had everything he needed. Mark dying from the fire had been unexpected and traumatic—like something out of a shocking news story that could never actually happen to her.

Paige lost her train of thought as Principal Matthews approached. “How’s everything going?” she asked.

“Pretty well. I think I’ve managed to say at least a few words of encouragement to just about everyone. I think we’ll have a good year. You’ve hired an excellent staff, as usual,” Paige said, smiling in appreciation.

“I’m glad,” Principal Matthews said. Paige had known the older woman for many years and had admired her just as long. Her silver hair and round, pink cheeks gave her a grandmotherly appearance that kids naturally warmed to. Kind and fair, and always quick to smile at the children, she defied all stereotypes of what kids thought a principal should be. Ms. Matthews had a grandmotherly air about her and the students seemed to think that it would be worse to disappoint her than to be shouted at by her. If Ms. Matthews would indeed be retiring soon, her shoes would be very hard to fill. Paige couldn’t imagine anyone doing the job as well.

“Paige,” Ms. Matthews said, reaching up to place a small hand on her shoulder. “There is something I’d really like to talk to you about if you have a moment tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes, of course.” Paige hoped she hid her sudden concern. She couldn’t guess what it might be, but she knew there had been an incident with a student’s parents that morning. Apparently the couple had had some understandable difficulty accepting the school diagnostician’s new diagnosis of their child’s learning disability.

Principal Matthews smiled at Paige, who thought she saw a hint of sadness in the older woman’s eyes. “I’ll stop by your office, Ms. Matthews,” Paige said, and her boss squeezed her forearm gently before turning to talk with some of the other faculty.

Paige felt her stomach grumble and decided she’d finally been social enough; her appetite had returned with a vengeance. She navigated toward the barbecue spread and put together a plate of what was left at the buffet. Sitting down at an empty table, she suddenly remembered that she’d left her notes and favorite pen at the table she’d shared earlier with Liam. Just as she started to get up to fetch them, she felt someone standing behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Liam’s large frame looming uncomfortably close. He smelled delicious—a unique mix of masculine soap and art supplies. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, reaching down to hand her the pen and folder full of notes she’d just been thinking about, “but it looks like you forgot these.” His hand brushed hers as he passed her belongings, and a confusing mix of desire and caution flowed through her.

“Thanks so much,” she said, hoping he hadn’t caught on to what she’d felt. “My grandmother gave me this pen when I got my first teaching job.” The smile he’d worn so easily before was gone.

“And about Owen...” he said, before pausing, then continuing. “I’ve been thinking about him a lot and I know that there must be some way I can help him. It’s a pretty big deal for a kid to lose the ability to speak to other kids his age. I’m just wondering, as his teacher, if there’s anything more I should know.”

Paige knew she was overreacting the minute she felt her heart begin to throb faster in her chest. Any of the desire she’d felt for Liam a moment ago vanished, to be replaced by maternal defensiveness. She knew he was just trying to help, but she was tired of people trying to tell her how to handle her son. Over the past six months she’d heard her fill of advice. She felt indignant when she thought that someone she’d just met, someone she’d have to interact with regularly, would offer her advice on her son’s life.

She’d lost too many close friends already by being promoted to assistant principal. She’d also drifted apart from some that she and Mark had known as a couple, as well as friends who’d pushed too hard trying to tell her how Owen should be helped. They all had different opinions about what was best for him and seemed to forget that she was his mother and that she—and she alone—should know best. The comments and advice had slowly chipped away at the maternal instinct Paige had always trusted until she’d begun to wonder whether she was acting in Owen’s best interests. And then there were the most hurtful comments, the ones from people who thought that she should just try forcing Owen to speak, as though he were withholding his words on purpose for attention. Attention? She wanted to scream at these people that attention seemed to be the last thing Owen wanted. In fact, he seemed, to her shattered heart, to want to withdraw from the world completely, to retreat from life at the ripe old age of six.

Like the thousands of similar overtures, Liam’s offer to help felt as if it had been a criticism of her ability to parent masked as innocent concern.

“There’s nothing more that you need to know,” Paige snapped. “As I’ve said numerous times now, unless he has problems in class, I really don’t want to talk about it any further.”

Her answer didn’t seem to satisfy him. She could see curiosity, but also kindness, behind his green eyes, neither of which she cared to indulge. She’d seen the same look countless times before.

“It’s just that, the more I think about it, the more I’m certain I can help him,” Liam insisted, taking a seat next to her as the cafeteria cleared.

Paige glanced at the clock. Almost time for her next parent meeting.

Why couldn’t this man just leave her alone? What was it about her son that had him so intrigued? He’d said himself that he’d seen cases like Owen’s before, so if her child wasn’t unique, then why was he pushing so hard? Maybe she needed to be more direct because Liam apparently wasn’t getting the message.

“Owen and I are fine, Mr. Campbell,” she said abruptly, rising and gathering her still-full plate and notes. “Please just leave it alone.”

She gave him no chance to respond and left the table, tossing her food into the trash on her way out the door.