"I know I dropped the ball here, so I brought the little guy to say sorry."

Her face was earnest as she addressed Mr. Haskins, "Kids will be kids, Mr. Haskins. Even in preschool, teachers can't play guardian angels all the time. Some tots trip over their own feet on flat ground-we can't prevent every scrape. Bumps and bruises are all part of growing up, nothing to make a federal case out of."

Nolan, sitting on the bed, could sense the tension escalating, and his discomfort spiked, prompting him to chime in. "Daddy... Daddy, it doesn't hurt."

His words said one thing, but his eyes were brimming with sorrow that threatened to spill over.

Fitch's expression darkened further, his voice reduced to a low, firm directive, "I want to see the child's parents."

"Mr. Haskins, if Nolan is so precious, perhaps he should be kept in a bubble at home rather than attending preschool," she retorted.

The barb hit home. Zoey could feel Nolan's fingers, which she held, tense up, recoiling like startled tentacles.

Fitch's pupils shrank in an instant, as if he felt a stab at his heart, the wound gushing.

"Zoey, do you have any idea what you're saying?"

Zoey frowned, aware that she had spoken out of turn in front of the child.

She took a deep breath, about to clarify, but Fitch grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the room in front of the kids.

Zoey, already resistant to him, felt increasingly uneasy.

"Let go!"

Fitch dragged her out to the hallway balcony, pinning her against the ornamental wall of flowers.

"How could you say such things in front of a child? Do you realize he is..."

But Zoey cut him off, her gaze resolute.

"I meant every word. If you're going to make a scene every time Nolan gets a scratch, then maybe he shouldn't be here. It makes the other kids anxious and our job as teachers harder. Maybe you don't like hearing this, Mr. Haskins, but it's the truth. Nolan doesn't seem to like interacting much; maybe preschool isn't for him."

Fitch's eyes. Zoey, the once docile and compliant woman, had grown a spine over the past four years, and it was lined with thorns that lacerated

began to apologize, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't

Do you realize how upset he is

her shoulders was tight,

too strong, and his

phone rang just then, a

and

"Henry."

this afternoon. I've got something

at the school gate

an effect of Fitch's

picked up on the shift in her mood. "What's wrong? Trouble in

tell you in

too

she pocketed

you're planning to

him absurd, acting as

tone riled her

a boo-boo? Mr. Haskins, your family might be

like it,

however you please."

and communicating with this man seemed

"Zoey!"

called out sharply,

felt the marks of his grasp forming on

"Let go!"

you, but don't take

heart feel like it was about to

her hand away, noticing her eyes

her emotional reaction so

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