But talking about the past wouldn’t change it—so why stir up old hurts?

She’d have to—

“Is everything okay?”

As the male voice spoke, Cate jerked her eyes open.

Noah Evans stood two feet away.

The very man she’d wanted to see—just not at this particular moment.

But despite the bad timing, she had to suck it up. Switch gears. Take advantage of this encounter with one of the people in her sights.

Fortunately, it didn’t require much acting to portray an unhappy teen whose world was shifting around her.

She sniffed and fished out a tissue. “Yeah. I’m kind of . . . I’m new here, and getting used to this place is . . . it’s hard, you know?”

“I understand.” Compassion softened his features, and he stuck out his hand. “Noah Evans. I’m one of the guidance counselors.”

As she slid her fingers into his, she called up his stats from the background sheet the department had prepared. Age forty-one, recent divorce, no children, master’s degree, eighteen-month tenure at Ivy Hill after working in a similar job on the East Coast.

“Cate Sheppard.”

“Nice to meet you, Cate.” He gave her a megawatt smile that was a tad too intense . . . and held on to her hand a fraction too long. “I noticed you in the cafeteria today, and I saw your name on the roster of new students. Anytime you want to talk, my door is open.”

Her brain clicked into analytical mode.

How would a troubled teenage girl who felt as if she’d been dumped in a reform school by her parents—someone like Cate Sheppard . . . or Stephanie Laurent—react to this guy’s attention and über empathy?

Maybe not in a healthy—or safe—way. Needy people often sought affection and understanding wherever they could find it.

This guy was definitely worth getting to know.

“Thanks. I may stop by.”

“Should we set up an appointment? That way, I’ll be available when you come and can give you my full attention.” He pulled out his cell and opened his calendar.

Perfect.

“I guess.”

“Tomorrow after classes? I’m here until four-thirty.”

“Sure.”

“Great.” While he tapped a few keys, Zeke rounded the corner—and almost ran into them.

“Sorry.” He pulled up short. “I didn’t mean to run you over.”

“No harm done. See you tomorrow, Cate.” Noah smiled at her and continued down the hall.

Ignoring Zeke, she strode toward the door that led to her dorm.

He didn’t follow or try to walk with her.

Thank you, God, for small favors!

At the exit, she took a quick peek over her shoulder—and found him standing where she’d left him, hands in pockets . . . watching her.

His perusal made her as uncomfortable as Evans’s had—for entirely different reasons.