The school had grown quite a bit since Seth had attended New Horizons. Not only was there a girls’ side these days, the boys’ side had a new computer lab, which was quite extensive, a community center for social events and a section of campus devoted to animal husbandry, where he could hear the bleating of sheep and the lowing of cows. The auto shop wasn’t new, but it had been updated, and he was looking forward to when the school would be able to add an arts and humanities building. That was partly why he’d agreed to return and tutor a small class of handpicked students who showed artistic potential. He planned to do some fundraising while he was here, so the building he dreamed of could become a reality, and he knew it would be much easier to draw money and attention to Silver Springs if he was on campus. With what he could raise and what he was willing to contribute himself, he hoped they’d be able to break ground this summer.

“You’re quiet today,” his mother commented as they walked across campus together. Although he wouldn’t start teaching until after the holidays when the new semester began, she was excited to show him his classroom. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” he replied, but he couldn’t quit thinking about Tia Beckett. He’d spent much of the night wondering how badly she was hurt, if he should assume she was okay or if he should walk back over to the cottage and try to reassure himself.

In the end, he didn’t go over because she’d made it clear she preferred to be left alone. He preferred to be alone himself since Shiloh died. So he understood. But...did she have anyone else who was checking in on her? Showing they cared and helping her through this rough patch?

Maxi had indicated that Tia wasn’t from Silver Springs, so Seth couldn’t imagine anyone here was keeping a close eye on her.

“Are you nervous about teaching?” his mother asked.

Truth be told, he wasn’t looking forward to it. That type of thing was so far out of his comfort zone. And he wasn’t convinced the elusive extra that’d made him successful could be taught. He’d started when he was only eighteen, with almost no training. To him that meant it had to be at least partly instinctual.

But that wasn’t what he said. Unwilling to admit, even to her, that he was anxious about teaching, he said, “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you don’t like being the center of attention. It’s not your thing. I almost feel bad for asking you. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t think it’d be good for you as well as the students.”

He sent her a sidelong glance. “Thanks for the opportunity.”