Page 55 of The Valentine Agenda

Every morning.

Every quiet moment.

Every chance to make her world a little better, whether she ever acknowledged him or not.

Because love—real love—wasn't about deserving or earning or proving.

It was about choosing someone, completely and without conditions.

Even if they never chose you back.

James turned onto his street. Tomorrow, he decided, he would start early. Clear the snow in front of the building. Fix that sticky door in the community room.

Not to earn her forgiveness.

Not to prove he'd changed.

Just because she deserved a world that worked a little better. Even if she wouldn't be sharing that world with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Hannah

Hannah stood at her classroom whiteboard, carefully writing out the day's schedule. The marker squeaked slightly against the surface—they were running low on supplies again. She'd have to stretch what they had until next month's budget.

"Ms. Miller?" Zack’s voice was quiet. "Are you sad?"

Hannah's hand stilled on the board. "What makes you ask that?"

"You keep looking at the window at the rain," Sarah chimed in.

Hannah turned to face her class, all those eyes studying her with that unnerving perceptiveness unique to children. She thought she'd been hiding it better—her disappointment, her lingering hurt. But of course they'd noticed. They always did.

"Sometimes grown-ups get sad too," she said carefully. "Just like we talked about with our weather paintings."

"Is it because of that fancy man?" Liam asked. "The one with the nice clothes?"

Hannah nearly dropped her marker. "What do you mean?"

"He used to smile at you in the lobby," Liam explained. "When he thought no one was looking. But now he just looks at you and doesn't smile."

"He must be really dumb," Michael declared with eight-year-old certainty. "Only dumb people make nice people sad."

"Michael," Hannah admonished automatically, but her voice lacked conviction.

"My sister says boys are stupid," Sarah offered helpfully. "Especially the pretty ones."

A laugh bubbled up before Hannah could stop it. "Let's focus on our lesson, shall we? Today we're learning about—"

"But Ms. Miller," Lily persisted, "if he made you sad, why don't you just tell him? Like how you taught us to use our words?"

Hannah's throat tightened. How could she explain that sometimes words weren't enough? That sometimes people showed you exactly who they were, and no amount of talking could change that?

"You know what would make me feel better?" she said instead. "If we worked on our community art project. Speaking of which..." She moved to her desk, pulling out the budget spreadsheet she'd been avoiding. "We need to figure out how to make our supplies last."

The children clustered around as she showed them the simple math. Even with careful rationing, they were going to run short before the big show. The school board had approvedthe program but couldn't provide funding, and her own savings could only stretch so far.

"We could sell lemonade!" Sarah suggested.

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