Page 41 of Halo

She remembers me, right? Surely, she remembers that night. The cards. The rain. The mistake I made when I didn’t dance with her, and worse, the mistake I made when I didn’t kiss her.

“Hi,” I say softly. My hand takes hers, and for a fraction of a second, we’re alone in the bar again, talking about nothing while the air crackles with everything.

A spark flickers in those captivating eyes, but as soon as it appears, she lets go of my hand.

“Mr. Crawford?” A well-dressed gentleman in navy slacks and a tie appears, stepping between Leah and me. “I’m Victor Torres, vice principal here at Pinehurst Elementary.”

I force my attention away from Leah and offer my hand.

“Nick Crawford—Doctor Nick Crawford.”

God, I sound like such a pretentious douche-bag.

Mr. Torres brightens. “Well, Dr. Crawford, if you don’t mind, I’d like to chat with you about today’s incident. Anytime there's an altercation involving a student, we follow a standard protocol and meet with parents. Nobody is in trouble; we simply want to review what happened, identify any additional support Grady may need, and make sure we're all on the same page moving forward.”

“Oh, um ...” I let out a nervous chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “Grady's mom usually handles all of this. I'm more of a last-minute substitute in this situation. Maybe y’all should wait and talk to her.”

Mr. Torres offers an understanding nod. “I appreciate that, Dr. Crawford, but you're here now, and Grady deserves to have all the adults in his life working together. This shouldn't take long.” He motions for us to follow him into his glass-enclosed office, where Grady kicks his dangling legs in an armchair.

The room is comfortably furnished with family photos lining a bookshelf alongside framed degrees from the University of Houston. I lower myself into one of the chairs across from the vice principal’s desk while Grady climbs into the seat beside me.

Leah settles into the chair on my other side, her cheeks still tinged pink as she fixes her attention straight ahead, seemingly determined not to look at me. She holds her towering stack of papers and books in her lap, her thumbnail picking at a worn box of crayons balancing on top.

Before Mr. Torres can have a seat, there's a quiet knock on the metal doorframe. “Sir, you have a call,” his secretary informs him.

“Can I call them back in a—?”

“It's your wife, sir.”

“Ah.” Without a second thought, Mr. Torres jumps up from his chair. “Give me one second, folks. I’ll be right back.”

Silence settles over the room. The tension thickens with every passing second. I debate whether or not I should acknowledge the obvious, wondering if it would make things better or infinitely worse.

“Hey, Nick?” Grady tugs on my shirt, breaking the silence. “Did you know Triceratops were herb-herbivores?” He confidently trips over his words.

I offer a smile. “Oh yeah? Do you know what that means?”

“Uh-huh.” He pushes up his glasses. “That means they only ate plants. Like cows.”

“Ah, you're right.” I ruffle his hair. “Good thinking.”

“Maybe Triceratops and cows have the same teeth.”

Leah stifles a grin, holding a finger over her lips.

I chuckle. “You might be onto something there, partner.”

The awkward silence returns, and we immediately commit ourselves to separate activities. I hand Grady a piece of copy paper and a pen, telling him to draw me a picture of a dinosaur. Leah smooths an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt while I drum my fingers against the armrest, both of us suddenly finding anything and everything more interesting than looking at each other.

“Cows?” She finally speaks, her voice gentle so she grabs only my attention and not Grady’s. She still won’t look at me.

I snicker. “Yeah, I may have mentioned the stockyards to him the other day.”

“I'm guessing you’re from Fort Worth then?”

I slowly nod. “From around there, yeah. Born and raised.”

She hums in understanding. “I kinda wondered where your accent came from.”