Chapter 4: The Wrong Story
I stood up before I knew I was standing.
"How long ago did he call?" I asked.
The principal checked the notepad in her hand.
"About four minutes ago.
He said he heard Emma wasn't feeling well."
I looked at Travis.
He was already sitting straighter, his expression completely neutral — the face he wore when strangers stared at him on the street.
"He doesn't know you're here," I said quietly.
"He will in about ten minutes."
I turned to the principal.
"Can we move to a different room?
I need a few minutes before he arrives."
She nodded and led us down the hall to a small conference room — four chairs, a round table, a window overlooking the parking lot.
Travis carried Emma without waking her and set her gently on two chairs pushed together.
She curled onto her side and kept sleeping.
I stood at the window.
Ryan's car turned into the lot three minutes later.
I watched him park.
He got out straightening his jacket, checking his phone.
He looked like a man who had somewhere more important to be and was fitting this in between.
"He doesn't know about the photos," Travis said from behind me.
"No."
"Then let him talk first.
Don't show what you know."
Ryan's voice reached us from the front entrance — smooth, friendly, the voice he used with people he wanted something from.
"I just want to check on my daughter.
Emma Bennett.
Second grade."
The receptionist's response was too quiet to hear.
Then footsteps in the hall.
Ryan pushed open the conference room door and stopped when he saw Travis.
The friendliness left his face like a light switching off.
"What is he doing here?"
"Travis walks Emma home," I said.
"He was with her when the school called."
Ryan stepped into the room.
He didn't look at Emma.
He looked at Travis.
"I thought we had a conversation about this."
Travis said nothing.
"Ryan." My voice was even.
"The school called me because a parent reported a suspicious person near the gate.
It was a misunderstanding.
Everything is fine."
"A misunderstanding." He turned to me.
"A misunderstanding that required you to leave work early and sit in a conference room with him."
"With Travis.
Yes."
"Lauren —"
"Emma is fine.
That's what matters."
He looked between us.
Something moved behind his eyes — not concern, not relief.
Calculation.
"I'll take Emma home," he said.
"You can go back to work."
"My afternoon is already cleared."
"I said I'll take her."
"And I said my afternoon is cleared."
The silence stretched.
Ryan smiled — the tight, controlled smile he used when he couldn't say what he actually wanted to say.
"Fine." He looked at Travis.
"You can go."
Travis stood.
He was a full head taller than Ryan.
He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, unhurried.
"Lauren." He looked at me.
Just my name.
Nothing else.
"I'll call you later," I said.
Ryan watched him leave.
The moment the door closed, he turned back to me.
"I want him off the pickup list."
"That's not your decision alone."
"He's not good for Emma.
I've said that from the beginning."
"You've said a lot of things from the beginning."
Something in my tone made him pause.
He studied my face.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm tired, Ryan.
I want to take our daughter home."
I crossed to Emma and crouched beside her.
"Hey, baby.
Time to wake up."
Emma opened her eyes, saw me, and smiled.
Then she looked past me.
"Where's Travis?"
"He had to go."
"Is he coming tomorrow?"
I felt Ryan go still behind me.
"We'll figure it out," I said.
I helped Emma sit up and smoothed her hair.
"Let's get your backpack."
In the car on the way home, Ryan drove and I sat in the back with Emma.
She fell asleep again with her head on my lap before we reached the end of the street.
I kept my phone face-down in my bag.
Twelve photos.
I hadn't looked at all of them yet.
I told myself I would wait until Emma was in bed.
Until the house was quiet.
Until I could think clearly without Ryan three feet away watching my face.
But when we pulled into the driveway and Ryan turned off the engine, he sat for a moment without moving.
"Lauren."
"Mm."
"Whatever Travis said to you today — he has his own reasons for saying it.
You know that, right?"
I looked up.
Ryan was watching me in the rearview mirror.
His expression was careful.
Measured.
"I know Travis," I said.
"You know who he used to be." He held my gaze in the mirror.
"People change."
He got out of the car and went inside.
I sat in the back seat with Emma's head on my lap and my hand resting on her shoulder.
May you like
He'd said that without knowing what Travis told me.
He'd said it anyway.
