“Oh, no,” Avery murmured. “What can we do?”

Angi shook her head. “I’ve just got to get to him.”

“I’ll drive you,” Gabe told her.

“You should finish the meeting.”

“The meeting is done.” He looked to Avery, who nodded. “Let’s go.”

He led Angi out of the building and toward his truck. She paused before climbing in. “I can drive myself.”

“I know,” he said, nudging her into the seat. “But I’ve got a lead foot. Learned to drive like a maniac when I was barely fourteen and honed those skills in the army. I’ll get you to him, Ang.”

She bit down on her lower lip like she was holding herself together by a thin thread. “Hurry.”

Gabe didn’t waste any time. He drove like a madman toward the elementary school. It was only a few blocks from downtown, so he knew the location.

“What did they tell you?” he demanded as he took a corner so fast that Angi gripped the door handle to prevent herself from sliding toward him.

“Just that there was a fight, and he hit his head.”

Gabe muttered a curse and then another. “What the hell kind of school is this that lets something happen to a ten-year-old kid? He’s supposed to be safe in school. Things were bad enough for me, but my mom never got called because I’d been hurt.”

“I made things bad for you,” she said quietly, then turned to him. “Is this some kind of karmic payback for how mean I was as a girl?”

“Don’t.” He reached out a hand and covered hers. Her skin felt cool, almost clammy, and he wanted to pull over and haul her into his arms, but that wouldn’t help anyone at the moment. “This isn’t about you.” He squeezed her hand. “There’s plenty of time to rehash the stupid mistakes you made. I’d be happy to help you. Just not now.”

“Wow.” She blew out a small breath. “Did you ever consider going into the life-coaching business?”

“Did I take your mind off being terrified for your kid for a few seconds?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Because I was thinking about how annoying you are.”

“My work here is done.”

He pulled into the school lot. It was a cheery one-story redbrick building with paper snowflakes hanging from the classroom windows, even though it almost never snowed in this part of the country.

Angi was opening the door before he’d even come to a complete stop. He threw the truck into Park but didn’t move. He had no dog in this fight, even though his heart disagreed with that assessment.

She paused before slamming shut the door. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For being here.”

He gave a small nod. “I’m not going anywhere.” He just wanted to know they were both okay.

CHAPTER TEN

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Angi walked out of the school with a sullen Andrew next to her. Anger pumped through her like someone had just turned on a garden hose, ready to explode out in a torrent of temper.