Page 59 of The Valentine Agenda

She had work to do. Children to teach. A community project to organize.

She absolutely wasn't thinking about how his sweater would feel under her fingers, or how his hair would curl around her hands, or how his genuine smile made something warm unfurl in her chest.

She wasn't thinking about any of that at all.

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Hannah's phone lit up with Mrs. Chen's name just as she was finishing lesson plans. Outside, the storm was raged on.

"Dear one," Mrs. Chen said without preamble. "I think James is the reason this whole building hasn't fallen apart."

Hannah's hand stilled on her papers. "What do you mean?"

"The generator's working perfectly. Everyone has emergency supplies. He's been checking on residents—knows exactly how each person takes their tea, if you can believe it." There was a knowing tone in Mrs. Chen's voice. "Rather like someone else I know."

Hannah swallowed hard. "He's probably just—"

"Just what? Making sure Mr. Thompson has his heart medication? Arranging for Mrs. Peterson's arthritis pills to be delivered? Installing space heaters in the older apartments?" Mrs. Chen's voice softened. "He's not just doing it for us, dear."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Hannah managed finally.

"I don't want you to say anything." Mrs. Chen paused, then added gently, "I just thought you should know that sometimes people surprise you. Even when you've stopped expecting them to."

Hannah stood, moving to her window. The storm painted everything gray, but the building felt different. Warmer. Safer. More... cared for.

"He remembered how everyone takes their tea?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.

"Mm." Mrs. Chen's smile was audible. "Made notes, just like you always do. Though his handwriting isn't nearly as neat."

Hannah pressed her forehead against the cold glass, watching the rainfall. She could almost picture him—James Park, notebook in hand, making sure elderly residents had everything they needed.

"It doesn't change anything," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Doesn't it?" Mrs. Chen's tone was maddeningly calm.

Hannah closed her eyes, remembering James in the community room that night, rumpled and honest.I don't know how to stop caring about you, he'd said.

Maybe he hadn't meant to stop at all.

"I should go," she said quickly. "Lesson planning."

"Of course." Mrs. Chen's voice was gentle. "But Hannah?"

"Yes?"

"Sometimes the bravest thing isn't walking away. Sometimes it's letting yourself see people as they are, not as you fear they might be."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Hannah

Hannah noticed the first change on a Tuesday.

She'd been dreading telling her students that they'd have to scale back their art project. The supply budget was tight, and watercolor paper wasn't cheap. But when she opened the supply closet in the community room of the building, fresh packages of paper sat neatly stacked on the shelf—the good kind, exactly what she needed.

"Did you order these?" she asked Ray, but he just shrugged.

"Supply fairy, maybe," he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

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