Page 79 of Connectio

Oliver enters the room, his eyes narrowing as he looks between Will and me. “Everything all right?”

“Everything is fine.” I step back, and Will pushes up from the ground. “Will’s just checking the taps one last time.”

Oliver lays his clipboard on his desk then perches his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Does that mean you’re all done?”

“With this building?” Will clarifies. “Yes.” He picks up his toolbox and makes his way toward the sink.

Oliver murmurs, “’Bout time.”

I glare at him, and he mouths, “what?” so I turn my back and begin to wipe down the whiteboard, ready for Monday’s lesson plan.

Warmth climbs my spine when I sense Will’s eyes on me, so I glance over my shoulder, spying him doing the same, an endearing grin on his face. I can’t help it and blush. I even giggle, which is just outright stupid.

Oliver clears his throat, steps up beside me, and picks up a whiteboard wiper. “So what’s your plans for the weekend?”

I pause, shocked that he’s helping me. Oliver never helps me, let alone wipes down the board.

“Uh… not much—”

Will drops his toolbox at my feet, and I startle. “She’s getting a boxing lesson from me.”

Oliver grimaces then laughs. “Lib’s getting a boxing lesson… from you?”

Offended, I straighten my shoulders. “Yes, I am.”

“Why would you need a boxing lesson?”

I go to answer, but Will does it for me.

“Because there are a lot of creeps in the world,” he says, insinuation in his tone. “And I’m gonna teach her how to defend herself against them.”

Placing down the wiper, Oliver says, “How nice of you,” his grin far from friendly as he walks away to assist the children with packing their bags.

“Master Will?”

We glance down at Dylan, whose tugging Will’s shorts, Evan standing beside him with hope in his pleading eyes.

“Can you teach Evan to box too? His mum’s new boyfriend is a creep.”

My hand shoots up to cover my mouth, eyes wide as I look from Will to Dylan, then to Evan, and back to Dylan again. “What do you mean by creep?” I ask the boys.

Evan doesn’t speak, so Dylan says, “He’s really mean. He yells a lot, doesn’t he, Evan?”

Evan curls into himself, looks at the ground, and shrugs.

“Right. I—”

“I’ll teach you how to box, mate.” Will lightly squeezes Evan’s shoulder.

His head springs up, and he smiles, hope returning to his eyes.

“How ‘bout you boys go pack your bags then line up at the door.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow at boxing class, Ms Hanson,” Dylan says and runs off with Evan.

“You can’t just offer to teach the kids how to box, Will,” I murmur behind my hand.

He ignores me. “You think there’s truth to what Dylan just said?”