No Matter What

She opened her mouth and then closed it. She didn’t know why she was shocked that he’d told her so much. It hadn’t been a throwaway, making conversation kind of comment. Had he really gotten married at eighteen? She was horrified whenever she heard about students graduating and getting married right away.

Not that she could say much, married at twenty and a mother at twenty-one. Yes, but see how that had turned out. Maybe it’s why she was horrified by the idea of it happening to anyone else.

“But you’re divorced,” she heard herself say, and winced.

“I didn’t say it was a good idea. Only that some high school romances get serious.”

She nodded.

“I have the impression Caitlyn hurt him.”

Oh, so that was why he was loitering at her side? Wanting to blame her daughter? Molly’s anger fired right up. Maybe her first impression was right after all; maybe he was the kind of parent who always wanted to blame someone else.

“Funny,” she said sharply. “I have the impression he hurt Cait. She didn’t even come tonight.”

“Really.” He continued to stand there, rocking subtly on the balls of his feet, watching her. Cars pulling up to the curb were having to maneuver to get around his pickup.

She greeted more people. There he stood. Exasperation and something that felt a little bit like panic finally made her turn back to him.

“Mr. Ward, I’m afraid I need to be available to other parents. And I’ll have to go inside soon. If you’ll excuse me…?”

She would have said his face was expressionless, but now it became really expressionless.

“Of course,” he said. “Sorry. I wanted… It doesn’t matter. Poor timing. Hope the evening goes smoothly.” He nodded and walked away, climbing a moment later into his pickup and accelerating away from the curb without once looking back at her.

I wanted… What?

An ache in her chest told her she should have guessed he needed to talk to her about something specific. Of course he hadn’t hung around only to make disjointed, meaningless conversation. Probably he had hoped to discuss Trevor. What else could it be?

Why in heck hadn’t she asked him, as she would have any other parent, whether he needed to talk? Suggested they arrange an appointment instead of icily dismissing him?

Oh, but she knew why. He intimidated her. He made her feel things she didn’t know how to handle. She could talk alone with the father of any other student in this school district without once thinking of him as a man. But with Trevor Ward’s father… She couldn’t forget he was a man. Attractive, enigmatic and probably unavailable, assuming she could even imagine herself wanting him to be available, which she didn’t.

Ugh. She didn’t lie even to herself very well.

* * *

WAY TO STRIKE OUT, Richard congratulated himself. But, God, had he behaved like an idiot, or what? Standing there shuffling his feet, sneaking peeks at the object of his adoration—who was trying to do her job and had absolutely no time to chat with him, never mind flirt.

It appeared he’d lost any touch he’d ever had. Richard couldn’t believe he’d done that. He hadn’t intended to. He had never consciously decided, When I see her again, I’ll ask her out. No, when he saw her out front of the gym greeting arrivals, impulse had overcome him and next thing he knew he’d been standing beside her trying to think of something to say.

So, of course, his conversational foray had been to accuse her kid of breaking his kid’s heart. He flinched at the memory. Really slick.

He’d been surprised Trevor wanted to go to the dance at all, far less was willing to accept a ride from him. Not that he’d done so gracefully; when Richard offered, Trev had given a typically sullen, one-shouldered shrug that said, louder than words, whatever. One of his favorite words in the English language. So favored, he’d learned to convey it wordlessly. Still, he had accepted. Of course, he hadn’t talked during the short drive, but he had actually muttered a “thanks” before he jumped out. A word Richard would have sworn Trevor had deleted from his vocabulary.

Home again, Richard found the house felt empty and too quiet, a ridiculous thing to think when he’d lived here alone since his divorce but for the kids’ visits and his own two, year-long tours in Iraq. Then, living in barracks with other National Guardsmen, he’d have given anything to be home in his quiet, empty house. He had nothing to complain about.

He turned on the TV but found nothing interested him and turned it off. He’d never been one for noise for its own sake. The sound of canned voices did not make him feel any less lonely.