He swallowed hard and forced himself to walk out of the classroom and back out to his truck. Once there, he stared at the dash for a bit, glancing at the clock over and over again. He needed this morning to go by fast so he could get Libby back. Work wasn’t gonna happen. He was far too distracted. Instead of heading back to the ranch for a few hours of work like he was supposed to, Hank turned and headed down Main Street, then parked in front of the salon and went inside.

Becca was there, a book clutched to her chest as a redheaded lady chatted with her. The woman was heavily freckled and had a baby in one arm and Alaska in the other. She beamed at Hank as he entered and reluctantly set the puppy down.

“That’s the best book on training tips for a dog, but if you need help, you just give me a call. I’m happy to be of assistance. I don’t think you’ll have issues with this little sweetie, though.”

“I appreciate it, Annie,” Becca said, beaming. She touched the baby’s hand and wiggled it. “And Morgan.”

“Well, we have to stop by Sage’s office and pay the water bill,” the redhead said, heading for the door. The puppy started to follow her and Hank scooped it up as they passed by. “Talk to you later, Becca. Thank you again!”

“Bye,” Becca called cheerily and moved to Hank’s side. She set the book down and took the puppy from him, giving it a quick kiss before noticing the look on Hank’s face. “Oh my god, is everything okay?”

He shook his head. What could he say? That he was freaking out over sending his kid to school? It seemed a silly thing to get upset over. Becca had reassured him a dozen times that Libby would love it, and in his heart, he was sure it was fine.

It was fine. It was all fine.

He still grabbed Becca and dragged her close, holding her against him as he tried to ignore the churning in his gut.

It was fine.

Just fine.

It was just preschool.

*   *   *

Despite Becca’s loving attention, Hank was utterly distracted all morning. He lurked around the salon, pretending to fix the hinges on the door since they squeaked every time it was opened. He watched the clock like a hawk, counting down the minutes until he could see Libby’s happy face again. Every dad went through this, right? He reassured himself that this was normal, that he wasn’t being obsessive or overprotective. Libby had to go out in society at some point, and pre-K was a good place to start.