Firefighter Daddy Read Online Free Page B

like a pretty natural reaction when—”
    “Mr. Donovan. The school has zero tolerance when it comes to bullying and aggressiveness. It doesn’t matter who starts a fight.”
    So now it was Mr. Donovan. “It sounds to me like Miranda’s the one who’s being bullied. Shouldn’t you be calling Franklin’s parents?”
    “I already have. I wanted to let both of you know what happened so you can discuss it with your children and help them come up with a strategy for dealing with these kinds of situations.”
    Seven-year-olds were supposed to have strategies? “Fine, I’ll talk to her…” As soon as he figured out what the hell kind of strategy she needed.
    “Thank you,” she said. “My door is always open. If you ever have questions or concerns about anything that’s going on at school, feel free to come in and talk to me.”
    So she could tell him to his face that he was doing a lousy job of raising his daughter? Not going to happen.
    “Thanks,” he said. “Is there anything else?”
    “No. Goodb—”
    He ended the call before she finished and shoved the phone back into his pocket. His mother had finished setting the table and was taking the casserole out of the oven. She looked at him questioningly. “Everything okay?” she asked.
    “That was the teacher. Miranda got into a fight at school today.”
    “That explains the torn jeans.”
    “I wonder why she didn’t tell me what happened.”
    His mother laughed. “She didn’t want to get in trouble.”
    “But if some kid’s picking on her—”
    “Is that what the teacher said?”
    Mitch relayed the story, then he shrugged, still at a bit of a loss. “The teacher says I need to help her come up with a coping strategy.”
    “That’s easy enough.”
    It was?
    Betsy took the casserole out of the oven and set it on a trivet on the counter. “I agree with Miss Sunshine. Physical violence is never the answer. If someone’s picking on Miranda, she needs to ask for help. It’s too easy for situations like this to get out of control, and the next thing you know, someone gets hurt.”
    Good point. That was the last thing he wanted to happen to his daughter. “Can we hold dinner for a few minutes? I’ll go up and talk to her right now.” He might as well get it over with.
    “Take all the time you need. I’ll just pop this back in the oven and keep it warm.”
    “Thanks.” He still thought everyone was overreacting, and he sure as hell resented the implication that Miranda was a troublemaker. However, he didn’t ever want her to end up in a situation that put her at risk.
    “What are you going to say to her?”
    “Pretty much what you just said, I guess.” He’d never been any good at these sorts of things, which was why he’d always let Laura handle them.

    T WO DAYS LATER , Mitch arrived home from his night shift at the fire hall, dog-tired but in time to help his daughter get ready for school. Her teacher was once again the topic of conversation. When he’d talked to Miranda about the playground fight with Franklin, he had done his best to conceal his resentment over Rory’s criticism. Miranda, he quickly discovered, harbored no ill feelings toward her teacher whatsoever. She had simply declared that all boys, Franklin in particular, were poo-heads, and then she’d readily agreed to talk to a teacher if anyone tried to pick on her again. He’d been left feeling that what he didn’t know about parenting was only surpassed by what he didn’t know about little girls.
    “Miss Sunshine’s been teaching us how to hopscotch.”
    “That’s nice, but if you don’t hold still until I finish brushing your hair, you’ll be late for school and Ror…um, Ms. Pennington-Borland…” He felt silly calling her Miss Sunshine but using her first name didn’t seem right, either. “Your teacher will suspend your playground privileges.”
    Miranda laughed. “She would never do that. She’s super nice. When I grow up, I’m going to be a teacher