Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“From what I understand, she’ll be here for twenty-nine more days, right?” she asks, her dark hair swishing across her shoulders as she speaks. “Pretty sure we can get to know each other tomorrow.”
“Can we not do this?”
“I just want to go to Neve’s.”
“You were there last night.”
“And you made me come home.”
Because I don’t trust that Neve’s mom will make sure she stays home all night. I scratch the top of my head and give another thought to jumping down the drain.
“This is going to ruin my life, isn’t it?” she asks, crossing her arms over her stomach. “This whole Gram being gone and Megan thing will ruin everything.”
“No—”
“I don’t need a babysitter, you know. You need me to have one because you don’t trust me.”
I drop my hand and stand tall.
Usually, Kennedy has the sense to back up when I don’t relent. She might sneak out later or skip school, but she doesn’t typically go toe-to-toe with me.
Perfect time to level up your teenage drama, child. I’m irritated anyway.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say, holding her gaze. “I don’t trust you.”
Her jaw falls to the floor.
“I’ve told you a million times. Give me a reason to trust you, and I will.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice shrill. “I always give you reasons, but you won’t see them. You don’t want to see them. You want to lock me up in this house like a little kid and never let me out.”
I steal a glance at the clock. “You have to earn trust, Kennedy.”
“I just want to go to Neve’s.”
“And I just wanted you not to call me from a cornfield last month—”
She rolls her eyes. “Here we go again.”
“—because you were in the car with some boy you weren’t allowed to be with in the first place, and he hydroplaned off the road and almost killed you.”
My stomach bottoms in response to the memory of Kennedy’s voice on the phone. “Daddy? I need you.”
In the period it took her to utter those three little words, my life stopped. Everything paused. Nothing mattered but getting to my kid and making sure she was safe.
And then grounding her for three weeks for lying to me and flouting the rules.
“Fine.” She narrows her eyes. “I won’t call you next time.”
My jaw clenches as I attempt to avoid losing my cool with my child.
I remind myself she’s not always like this. She can be a sweet kid. She is a sweet kid.
Breathe, Chase.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” I say.
“Pretty sure you just said you didn’t want me to call you.”
I growl in frustration. “Kennedy, stop it.”
“Is that a no on Neve’s?”
Her shoulders stiffen as if she’s trying to appear bigger and older than she is, but it has the opposite effect with her tiny frame draped in that sweatshirt. Vulnerability shines in her jade-colored eyes despite her fierce attempt to hide it.
She’s a child standing in front of me. My child. A little girl trying to grow up without a mother.
“Come here,” I say, crossing the room.
She pulls away from me.
“I love you,” I say.
She leans farther back but doesn’t move her feet.
I smile at her as I reach for her. She scoffs as if it pains her to give in, but she relents anyway. My arm stretches around her shoulders, and I pull her into my side. Then I kiss the top of her head.
“I know it’s going to be hard for you while your grandparents are away,” I say.
“It’s not that. It’s that I’m fourteen. I don’t need a babysitter, Dad.”
I smile against her hair. “Maybe you don’t. Maybe you’d be fine on your own.”
She turns to me with a set of hopeful eyes.
“But I can’t go to work every day and chance it. Besides, I’ll probably have to go out of town once or twice while Gram is gone. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you home alone all night. Sorry, kiddo.”
She groans and shakes my arm off her.
“Kennedy, you’re barely fourteen—”
“I know. You remind me all the time.”
“—and I can’t let you screw up your life.” I hold her shoulders gently, turning her in a half circle to look at me. “I love you, little girl. The thought of anything happening to you is my absolute worst nightmare.”
“But I’m not dumb. I know you think I am, but I’m not.”
I smile softly. “I don’t think you’re dumb. But the world is evil and mean, and it will swallow you up and spit you out before you know what happened. The only thing between you and all of that is me. That’s my responsibility. You might not understand it, like it, or appreciate it and, hell—maybe, I’m screwing this all up.” I lower my chin. “But if I can keep you from ending up like your uncle Luke ….”