She wanted to hit him on the forehead again. “Don’t be such a baby. I can’t believe you’ll kick the crap out of Ryan Stacey but you’re afraid of a few equations.”

His eyes flicked up at her. “That’s because I don’t care what Ryan Stacey thinks of me.”

Oh. Her breath caught again. She tried to stop her heart from thundering in her chest and shoved the book toward him. “Maybe your brother should help you. You can’t sweet-talk him.”

Layne helped Gabriel struggle through the second problem of the assignment.

And he was definitely struggling.

The first question had taken thirty minutes to work through. He was missing fundamentals they’d covered in Algebra I. It was like trying to teach abstract equations to someone who’d never learned basic multiplication. And as he got more frustrated, he started transposing numbers. It reminded her of that day she’d fixed his test, when half the solutions were written backward. Or that day at the blackboard, when he’d copied someone’s equation—but he’d copied it incorrectly. She had to keep reminding him to slow down.

That night she’d driven him home, she’d made a comment about special classes, and he’d brushed her off. But now she was starting to wonder if he genuinely had a learning disability.

Not like she’d say that out loud. Yet.

The second problem took only twenty-five minutes. Progress.

By the end of two hours, he’d worked through eight problems. He wrote the number 9 on his paper just as a peal of thunder rolled overhead. Layne reached out and closed the textbook.

He looked up. “We’re not done.”

“I should check on Simon.” She stretched her shoulders. “And you should quit while you’re ahead. Do the other two tomorrow.” They hadn’t heard a sound from the living room the entire time they’d been in here. Not like Simon was a noisy kid, but she was surprised he hadn’t come looking for a soda. A snack. A bathroom, for goodness’ sake.

But when they looked in the living room, the PlayStation was turned off, the television silent and dark. She turned around, but the powder room door was wide open, the lights off.

No one was in the front yard, either, when they leaned out the front door. Overcast sky, prestorm humidity thick in the air. But no Simon.

Then a repetitive smacking echoed from the driveway. Followed by a long pause.

Gabriel smiled. “Come on.”

Simon was tossing a basketball at the hoop over the garage. To her utter surprise, Gabriel’s older brother was playing with him.

Michael caught the ball Simon passed to him, then pointed at her and Gabriel. “Math done?” he asked.

“Mostly,” said Gabriel. He gave Simon a grin. “You’ve been practicing.”