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Her face softens, and she nods. “Of course. That’s no problem at all. Just let us know when and where, and we’ll make sure to have someone cover your station.”
“Thank you,” I say, relieved.
“It’s no trouble. Field Day is about fun, after all.” She winks before turning to greet another volunteer.
I step back and find a spot near the wall, watching the room while I wait for the meeting to start. The chatter is loud and lively, with volunteers swapping stories about their kids or catching up on gossip.
I glance at my phone, checking the time. The students are still in their classrooms, which gives us some time to prepare.
My thoughts drift to Cole as I tuck my phone back into my bag. I haven’t seen him in a week—not since... that night.
My cheeks heat at the memory, and I shake my head, willing it away.
It’s probably deliberate, his absence. And honestly, I’m fine with that. It’s not like I’m eager to have a conversation about what happened.
But Robbie? He hasn’t mentioned seeing much of his dad either. Sure, I was at my apartment last weekend packing up my things, so maybe they had time together then. But somehow, I doubt it.
Cole doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who clears his schedule for family time. He’s too busy running a billion-dollar company, too consumed by work.
I try to imagine him here, wearing one of the bright blue Field Day T-shirts they were handing out to volunteers, maybe manning the water station or cheering kids on at the relay race.
The image is laughable.
Cole Wagner at a Field Day? Not a chance.
I sigh, my gaze drifting to the window where the sun is shining brightly over the school’s immaculate courtyard.
“All right, everyone,” the lead coordinator calls out, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Let’s get started!”
She steps up to the podium at the front of the room, her clipboard in hand. The crowd quiets, and I shift my focus back to the task at hand, determined to make today a good day for Robbie—even if his dad couldn’t be bothered.
***
The warmth of the mid-morning sun beats down on the school grounds, a reminder that summer is just around the corner. The green fields stretch out ahead of me, dotted with clusters of kids laughing, running, and shouting as they move between the colorful event stations. A faint breeze cuts through the warmth, ruffling my oversized T-shirt and offering some relief.
Robbie is glued to my side, his small hand clutching the edge of my shirt as we navigate the field. His grip tightens every time we pass a loud group of kids or an enthusiastic volunteer calling for participants.
“You’re doing great so far,” I tell him with a smile, hoping to ease some of his nerves.
He doesn’t answer, just nods slightly, his messy brown hair flopping into hiseyes.
Robbie hadn’t lasted five minutes before retreating to my side. I’d barely managed to finish setting up the beanbag toss station before he came over, his wide hazel eyes scanning the crowd nervously.
His quiet, “Can I stay with you?” was enough to melt me, and I quickly flagged down another volunteer to take over my spot.
We’ve already tackled the wheelbarrow race and frisbee golf. Well, tackled might be a stretch. I mostly encouraged, and he mostly hesitated. But he did both, and that’s a win in my book.
Now, as we weave through the event stations, I can feel how tense he is, his small frame practically glued to me.
“Robbie,” I say softly, crouching down to his level so we’re eye-to-eye. “You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, right? We can just watch for a while if you’d rather.”
He nods again but doesn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the ground. I know he’s wishing Rexy was with him by the way he’s clutching his arm tightly to his side.
“Okay,” I say gently, standing up and ruffling his hair. “How about we get something to drink and figure out what we want to do next? Deal?”
He peeks up at me, his grip on my hand loosening slightly. “Deal,” he murmurs.
We make our way to the refreshment table under a striped canopy a few feet away.