Page 42 of Wrangled Love

I’ve met her a few times since Caleb started summer camp, and I trust she’ll look after him. Still, it’s hard leaving him this shaken, but I have to get to the bottom of this.

“Caleb.” I wait until he lifts his head to continue. “Briar and I are going to speak with Julie for a few minutes, but we’ll be right back, okay?”

He burrows his face into the curve of Briar’s neck, and she draws him closer.

“It’s alright, little man. You’ll hang out with Lisa for a little while, and I have it on good authority that she has a hidden stash of cookies in her desk drawer. I bet she’ll let you have one.” Briar’s voice is gentle. “And when we get home, we can play with Ziggy. I’m sure he’d like some cuddles too. How does that sound?”

She waits patiently as Caleb sniffles, peeking up at her. Briar’s face softens into a warm smile when he gives her a small nod.

“Sounds like a plan. We won’t be gone long,” she promises.

Caleb glances at me for confirmation.

“She’s right, bud. We’ll be right back.”

“Come on, honey, we’ll go find Lisa together, and I’ll make sure she gets you a cookie,” Julie says.

Caleb hesitates for a moment before pulling away from Briar. He slips his hand into Julie’s outstretched one. As she guides him toward the front office, he glances back, and I give him a thumbs-up.

My heart shatters at the sight of him so upset, but I keep my emotions in check, not wanting him to witness me losing control. The best thing I can do is be strong and figure out what actually went down.

“You two go ahead to my office. I’ll be right there,” Julie says over her shoulder.

I nod, heading in that direction. Briar stays in step beside me, neither of us speaking. I don’t bother knocking before walking in.

Julie’s office is warm and welcoming with large windows letting in the sun. Framed student artwork lines the walls, and a colorful rug covers the center of the room, surrounded by beanbag chairs and a low table scattered with picture books.

Vickie is perched behind Julie’s desk as if she owns the place. Her auburn hair is twisted into a messy bun, and thick eyeliner frames her eyes. She’s dressed in a grease-stained jumpsuit with her name stitched on the front, which makes me think she came straight from work to be here.

“You must be Caleb’s dad,” she says, her voice clipped. “Mind explaining why your kid thought it was okay to hurt mine?”

I stiffen at her accusation but bite back my frustration. “That doesn’t sound like Caleb.”

She scoffs. “Oh, please. My Michael said he wanted a turn with the bubble wand, but Caleb wouldn’t share. When he asked again, your son shoved him, and now he’s got a big bruise on his left knee from the fall.”

I exhale through my nose, willing myself to remain calm. It’s probably best to wait until Julie gets here to continue thisconversation, but I refuse to stand by and let this woman paint Caleb as a playground bully when I know he’d never show aggression like she’s describing.

“Bullshit,” I retort.

Vickie gapes at me. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “I’m guessing you weren’t around for this so-called altercation, so how can you be sure what really happened?”

“Michael doesn’t have a reason to lie.”

“And you know that how?”

“Because he’s my kid, and I believe him. Besides, it’s the only version of events we’re going to get. It’s not our faultyoursonwon’tspeak,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you should do a better job at home of preparing him to interact with other kids before sending him off to summer camp and then acting shocked when he causes problems.”

My jaw tightens, and I fix her with a sharp glare as a hot surge of anger burns in my chest. No one has the right to talk about my son like that, least of all someone who doesn’t know the first thing about him or what he’s been through.

Vickie fails to understand that even if Caleb chooses never to speak again, it doesn’t matter. He’s perfect exactly as he is. If that means we work with his therapist and find someone to teach both of us sign language so we can build a new way to communicate long-term, then that’s what we’ll do.

Before I can respond, Briar, who’s been silently observing until now, steps around me, leans across the desk, and points her finger at Vickie.

“Caleb might prefer not to speak, but he’s still one of the brightest and most gentle kids I’ve ever met,” she fires back, eyes narrowed. “Shame on you for putting down a child just to defend your own.”

Vickie scoffs. “Last I checked, your job is maintaining cabins,not handing out parenting advice. And you’re not Caleb’s parent, so what are you even doing here?”

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