of all the craziness in her family flitted through her mind. “Does that have something to do with the fight?”
He shrugged again, but still didn’t look at her. “Bet your house wasn’t quiet.”
“Uh, no.” She laughed. “Not very often anyway.” She gave him a couple of minutes, but she needed to find out what happened. “We’re calling your parents—”
“You gotta call my dad,” he interrupted.
“Okay. Is there a reason?”
“Mom.” The boy took a deep breath. “Mom passed away...”
Well, she’d muddled into that one. “I’m sorry.” Addie felt the knife in her chest for the boy, and from her own recent loss of her mother. That’s what she’d seen in his gaze. Grief. It resonated with her. She knew how much it hurt. Faded memories of her father, and the resulting emptiness, were still too real.
“Then we’ll call your dad.” She cleared her throat, not sure what was stuck there. “What do you think he’ll say about your getting into a fight?”
The boy looked down at those tennis shoes again. “He’s not gonna like it.”
“What do you think he’ll do?”
He seemed to think about that a minute. “Probably cut down my computer time.” The sadness in the boy’s voice expanded to fill the room. She fought a smile. At least now she knew what was important to him, and she felt another stirring of curiosity.
Gina stood in the doorway and Addie looked up. “Yes?”
“His father’s on the way. Nick’s parents aren’t answering.”
So, what else was new? She really didn’t want to deal with the Haldons, but there were some things about her job that were unavoidable.
“Unless you’ve got something to tell me, you can take a seat in the lobby until your dad’s here.”
The boy hesitated but finally stood. She had to admire him. He might not like Nick, but he wasn’t going to rat on him. She watched him walk out and slump down on the chair—farthest from Nick.
She pulled the budget papers together and sorted them. She wasn’t going to make any more progress for now. Even if she did, parents would only show up and disrupt her. She didn’t know how long it would take for them to get here.
She glanced at the clock. Another hour and the day would be done. Hopefully, Gina could reach the Haldons before it was time for the boys to head home. She couldn’t let them go before speaking to their parents, and she didn’t want to stay any later than she had to.
“Addie?” Gina said from the door. She had the cordless receiver in her hand and a smirk on her face. “Mrs. Haldon is in Atlanta at a conference. Mr. Haldon is at work. They’re looking for him.”
“So, who are you talking to?”
“The housekeeper. She wants to know if she should come get Nick.”
“Housekeeper?” Addie stared. “No. His father needs to come get him.”
“I’ll let her know.” Gina left, and for some strange reason, Addie found herself feeling sad for both boys. Neither of them had the support they needed, that they should have.
Just then, a man Addie had never seen before came rushing in. He wore neatly pressed dress pants and a blue button-down shirt. His thick chestnut hair looked awry, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Repeatedly. “Ryan?” He headed straight for the boy.
He knelt down, uncaring that he could get dirt on those nice pants. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” the boy said softly, pulling the ice pack from his eye. The man turned an angry glare on the other boy, and Addie saw Nick actually shrink away. The man didn’t say anything, which had Addie breathing a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was an outraged parent taking matters into his own hands.
She walked to the door and stood waiting for a gap in the softly spoken conversation. “Mr. Skylar,” she finally said. “Won’t you come in?”
* * *
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” The tall, dark-haired man paced in front of Addie’s desk. “Ryan has never been a problem. He’s never gotten into trouble.”
Addie watched Marcus Skylar shove his fingers through his thick hair again.
“He’s never gotten into a fight.”
Addie made herself focus. “From what he’s told me, he has been through a lot.” Her heart still ached for the boy. “He’s had a lot to adjust to.”
“I guess.” Marcus suddenly sat on one of the chairs facing her. “It’s been one hell of a year,” he whispered. “I’m not making excuses.”
“I think we need to give Ryan a break.” She leaned forward, trying to look like she was in charge here. She knew what she was doing, but this man set her on edge and she didn’t know why. “Have you considered counseling?”
She expected him to get angry. Half-expected the man who was very near the edge himself to rise up and rail at her. Instead, he silently looked at her, then leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the carpeting. “I have. And we did. For a bit.”
He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met. Nothing like her brothers, who would have already blasted her about psychobabble and being able to take care of themselves. She waited while he sat there, staring, seeing something he wasn’t sharing with her.
“Mr. Skylar, our school has a no-tolerance policy. I have to give Ryan, both boys actually, a week’s detention for fighting.
Marcus sat silent for a long moment. When he finally looked up at her again, his gaze was clear. “I understand. He’ll be there.” He waited a moment before shooting to his feet. “Guess, I’ll...” His voice faded, and he turned toward the door. Now he looked more like she expected. “Sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”
Pausing in the doorway, he curled his fingers around the knob until his knuckles showed white against his tanned skin. “Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hawkins.” He pulled the door open and, through the opening, she saw Ryan look up at his dad. “Come on, Ry,” she heard him say. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”
She stared after him. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t yelling at his son, like so many other fathers would be doing. He actually looked...she tried to find the right description...beaten?
What battle was he waging? Against his son? Against himself, and his own grief? He’d lost his wife the same time Ryan had lost his mother. “Mr. Skylar?” She hurried around the desk, stopping in the open doorway just as he turned to look at her.
“Yes?”
“Is...” What was she thinking? What was she even doing? “Is there anything I can do to help? You...or...” She looked at Ryan. “You, Ryan?”
“Thank you.” Marcus straightened his already impressive shoulders. “But we’ll be fine. Come on, Ryan.”
With his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, he headed out the door, and she heard their footsteps echo down the empty hall. It was a lonely, nearly painful sound. She’d have to keep an eye on them. On Ryan, she reminded herself. She was a principal. The father was not her concern, unless his actions affected the boy.
Then all bets were off.
* * *
MARCUS DIDN’T LET go of Ryan’s shoulder until they reached the car. The boy was silent as he threw his backpack in the rear and slammed his backside into the passenger seat. He pouted, crossing his thin arms over his equally thin chest. Only once he was settled behind the wheel did Marcus speak.
“You want to explain what happened?”
He