4. Chapter 4 #3
The boy seemed younger than the others. Smaller. His brown eyes huge in his narrow, elfin face.
“Ms. Charlie?”
Lorenz beckoned Charlie forward. “She’s right here.”
“Théo! Are you okay?”
The boy raced past him and into Charlie’s waiting arms.
“Oh, Théo.” Charlie hugged the boy tightly, as if afraid he might vanish again. “We were so worried.”
“I want to stay here, Ms. Charlie,” he sobbed.
“What happened?” she asked gently. “What upset you?”
His sobs only grew louder.
Feeling like an interloper, Lorenz dialed Beau’s number. “Call off the search. We’ve got the boy. He’s okay.”
He turned to the boy. “We need to get out of here, buddy. Let your friends see you’re safe.”
Charlie took the hint and stood. The boy’s hand disappeared trustingly into hers.
Lorenz jumped down first, steadying them as they climbed out.
They’d barely started walking back when a loud voice cut through.
“Let go of my kid!”
Lorenz turned.
A big man shoved through the gathering crowd, face flushed. Something shone in his dark eyes.
Not fear. Anger.
Before Lorenz could move, Charlie stepped forward, her body a clear barrier between the man and the child.
“Monsieur Pelletier,” she said, her voice calm but strained, one hand tightening around Théo’s shoulder. “Théo’s okay. We don’t want to frighten him.”
“You lost my son,” the man roared. “You lost my son!”
Charlie flinched, but didn’t retreat. “We found him quickly. He wasn’t in any danger.”
“That’s not for you to decide,” the man snapped, jabbing a finger towards her chest. “You had one job today. One job. And you couldn’t do it.”
Lorenz stepped forward, placing himself squarely between them.
“Sir,” he said, his voice level, “I’m going to need you to calm down.”
The man’s eyes rounded on him, as if noticing him for the first time. “And who the hell are you?”
“Lieutenant van der Berg,” Lorenz replied coolly. “And the person asking you—politely—to lower your voice, unless you wish to be escorted from the premises.”
He looked back to see Théo pressed closer to Charlie’s side, fingers digging into her jacket.
“I’m going to sue,” the man went on. “Her. The school. And you too, if you don’t get out of my way.”
The finger wagged inches away from Lorenz’s chest.
Lorenz didn’t move, but he made sure his eyes telegraphed his intent.
Touch me, and I’ll break that finger.
A part of him almost hoped the man would touch him, but the finger didn’t move any closer. Then another parent grabbed the man’s arm. Someone murmured his name. Pelletier’s anger began to deflate, but there was still fire in his eyes as he stared at Charlie before yanking his son towards him.
The boy looked back over his shoulder at Charlie, face streaked with tears.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Charlie didn’t hesitate. She knelt in front of the boy. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong, Théo.”
“On parlera à la maison,” the man snapped, tugging on his son’s arm.
We’ll speak at home.
Asshole.
“Monsieur Pelletier, s’il vous pla?t,” Charlie began.
Lorenz understood what she was doing, trying to transfer the man’s anger away from his son, but it hurt to hear her begging for this asshole’s attention.
Lorenz took a deep breath, getting ready to interfere, just as the man turned and walked away, dragging his son with him.
The noise around them slowly returned—other parents, footsteps, Beau’s radio crackling.
“Are you okay?” Lorenz asked.
Charlie stood very still, then turned to face him. Her cheeks were flushed pink.
“I can fight my own battles, Lorenz. I’ve been doing it for a while.”
He didn’t doubt it. He just couldn’t stand by and watch somebody threaten her.
“I didn’t know you were back,” he said, changing the subject.
She looked away, scanning the dwindling group of children. “I’m teaching in Sallanches.”
So close.
After the divorce, he figured she’d gone straight back to Florida. She’d always been close to her sister. But she was back in France now.
So close.
“I should go,” Charlie said softly. “Some of the kids are getting picked up at school. I need to go with them.”
Lorenz recognized this moment. This was where he was supposed to step aside. To let her go and wish her well. Accept that bumping into her like this didn’t give him the right to anything.
But he wasn’t strong enough for that. He was a parched man staring at a fountain of clean water.
“We should talk,” he said.
Charlie’s luminous gray eyes met his, and the softness there hurt more than anger ever could have.
“I don’t think so, Lorenz. We said everything we needed to say to each other six years ago.”
The words slammed into his solar plexus. Because she was right. And he’d been the one to utter those four words. The ones that broke them beyond repair.
As Charlie turned and walked away, Lorenz clenched his hands to stop himself from going after her.
Behind him, Kat’s voice was gentle. Curious. “You know the pretty teacher?”
Lorenz didn’t take his eyes off Charlie’s retreating figure.
“That’s Charlie Brooks,” he said. “My ex-wife.”