Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
T he after-school program was in full swing. A group of kids clustered around a craft table, glittering construction paper and markers strewn everywhere. In another corner, a game of dodgeball was underway, punctuated by squeals of laughter and the occasional exaggerated groan of defeat.
Teddy’s eyes weren’t on the kids laughing and playing with their parents nearby. He was focused on the ones who weren’t laughing, the ones who weren’t with any parents.
They sat in small groups or alone. Their faces were carefully neutral. Their hands were busy with whatever activity they’d been assigned. It was their eyes that betrayed them. Their gazes flitted to the door every few seconds, scanning for someone who wasn’t coming. And then those faces lit up.
It hit Teddy in the chest, the same way it always did. That spark of hope when they first saw him, followed by the quick, practiced mask of indifference as he came near.
“Hey, look, it's Old Man Mayor.” Adam was in ninth grade, but he looked like he was still in elementary school. He carried a regular-sized basketball under his arm, but it looked like a boulder.
“Hi, Adam. You ready to get demolished by an old man?”
"Like you got any game." That came from another boy. Vinnie was his name.
"Tell me about my game after I dunk on you."
That was all they needed to let their guard down. Light pricked at the corners of their eyes. Small smiles tugged at their upper lips.
A laugh rang out from across the room. Teddy turned to see a group of parents chatting near the bleachers, their kids weaving around their legs. He didn’t begrudge them their time here—they loved their kids, supported them, made this program even better by showing up.
But it was the other kids—the ones like Jason, sitting at the snack table or Bettie doing homework beneath the bleachers, pretending she didn’t care if anyone came for her—who pulled at his heart the most.
He'd seen it on so many of the faces of his friends when he'd been their age. Teddy's mother was always in the bleachers at his games, at every spelling bee, taking pictures at every awards ceremony, like she was going for perfect parent attendance.
Teddy had long since made peace with his father’s death, but the hole it left was why he was here now. Why he let his mother hover as much as she did, even if it drove him a little crazy. Loss was hard, and he didn’t want anyone to feel it if he could help it. Especially those with parents who were on this earth in body but not present at the school in spirit.
He called out to Jason at the snack table. “Hey, how about a game of basketball? I hear Lily’s got a mean dribble, but I think we can take her.”
Jason’s lips twitched. “You think?”
“Definitely,” Teddy said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s show her what we’ve got.”
As they walked toward the court, Teddy felt a flicker of hope, not just for Jason, but for all the kids here. Maybe he couldn’t fix everything, but he could show up. And sometimes, that was enough.
The basketball smacked against the hardwood floor of the gym, echoing like a drumbeat as Teddy dribbled toward the hoop. Sweat slicked his forehead, and his tie, long abandoned, was now looped lazily through his back pocket. A group of kids swarmed around him as they tried to steal the ball. It was supposed to be three on three, but five on one was just as fun.
“Mayor Carter, you’re going down!” shouted Lily, her pigtails bouncing as she sprinted toward him.
“Oh, is that so?” Teddy teased, sidestepping her with exaggerated flair. The kids groaned collectively as he spun and took a shot, the ball arcing beautifully through the air before swishing through the net.
“Boom! That’s how it’s done,” Teddy crowed, throwing his hands in the air like a champion.
Lily huffed, planting her hands on her hips. “You’re supposed to let us win.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he shot back, grabbing the ball and tossing it to one of the older kids.
As the game resumed, Teddy’s grin softened into something more contemplative. This was what mattered. The laughter, the joy, the spark in the kids’ eyes as they forgot everything else for a little while.
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his thoughts shifting to Bunny. He hadn't found her before it was time for the after-school program. But he had found the stack of proposals she’d left on his desk. Bunny’s meticulous handwriting had been all over them, every detail outlined with a level of care that would put a Swiss watchmaker to shame.
She'd left a note about both the after-school program and the federal grant. Teddy had told the others he hadn't decided yet, but it was clear to all where his priorities lay. The potholes, the streetlights, the sidewalks—all important, sure. But his priority wasn’t asphalt or bulbs. It was here, in this gym, where kids like Jason could look forward to a safe place to land after school.
Bunny didn’t get it, not really. To her, it was about balance sheets and efficiency. To him, it was about the future. The kids might not understand the full weight of what this program gave them now, but they would. Someday.
“Mayor Carter.” Lily’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You’re not paying attention.”
Teddy jogged toward the fray as the ball bounced erratically across the court. He swooped it up, narrowly avoiding Jason’s attempt to snatch it away.
“Nice try, buddy,” Teddy said with a grin, dribbling toward the hoop. The hardwood vibrated beneath his sneakers as he made his way across the court.
“Block him!” one of the kids yelled, and suddenly, a swarm of pint-sized defenders surrounded him.
Teddy laughed, his breath coming fast as he dodged one, then another. He leapt, the ball in his hand, and dunked it with a dramatic flourish.
The kids erupted in groans and cheers, a cacophony of good-natured chaos. Teddy landed on the floor, hands on his knees, grinning like a fool.
“All right, all right,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “You got me. Next one’s yours.”
He straightened, his chest heaving slightly as he glanced at the clock on the gym wall. Time to wrap it up. The after-school program wasn’t just a line item on a budget to him. It was a lifeline, the kind of thing that could make or break a kid’s future.
He clapped his hands, drawing the kids’ attention. “All right, team. I gotta head out, but you keep practicing over winter break. I expect to see some real competition in the new year.”
The kids groaned in unison, but a few of them waved as he grabbed his coat and headed toward the door. Even Bettie had come out from beneath the bleachers to wave goodbye to him.
The cool December air hit Teddy like a shock as he stepped outside, the faint scent of pine and snow in the air. He jogged to his car, the urgency building in his chest. He had one last mayoral duty today before he began his holiday break—not that mayors truly got a break.
He'd printed out the speech Bunny had written for him to give at this event and?—
A glance at the seat told him he'd left his briefcase back at the office. That was the last thing he needed: Bunny accusing him yet again of not respecting her work and going off-script. Truth be told, Teddy was better at winging it on a microphone than espousing the crafted words. But he didn't want any reason to have her roll her eyes at him. Not when he wanted to make them flutter when he asked her out. So he'd give the speech she prepared. He just had to go back to the office to get it.
Teddy gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the other tapping a slow rhythm on the dashboard as the wipers cleared snow from the windshield. The streets were quiet, muffled by the thick blanket of snow that had been falling all afternoon.
His thoughts, as usual, strayed to Bunny. Bunny with her perfectly pressed blouses and the faint smell of lemon from her tea. Bunny with that sharp, no-nonsense tone she reserved just for him.
She thought he was a mess, didn’t she? He could see it in her exasperated looks, hear it in the way she sighed when he went off-script or—he smiled to himself—when he charmed his way through another crisis. But she didn’t understand. He wasn’t irresponsible; he just… prioritized differently.
Fun, that’s what she needed. A little fun. And he was the guy to give it to her.
He parked the car and stepped out, pulling his coat tighter against the biting wind. The snow was still falling, blanketing the world in white. A storm was brewing, a big one.
As he trudged up the walk, his eyes drifted toward Bunny’s apartment a few blocks down. She’d be fine, of course. She lived close enough to the office to avoid the worst of it. Maybe he should stay in town tonight. His office had a pull-out sofa for the nights he didn't want to drive the distance to his cabin at the edge of town. If he was snowed in and Bunny was just a few blocks away, he could get snowed in with her.
The thought was all too tempting. No interruptions. No policies. Just the two of them.
A bundle of something sat on the doorstep. His first thought was that it was a delivery, and they hadn't bothered coming inside.
Teddy crouched down. It was a basket, covered by a blanket. No, not a basket. Was that a car seat? And then the bundle moved.
Teddy froze. For a split second, he thought he’d imagined it, but then a tiny foot kicked out, poking through the blanket covering the bundle.