Meet Cute(73)

“All I know so far is that they found a bottle of vodka in Emme’s backpack.”

“That doesn’t sound like something she would do.”

Dax runs an anxious hand through his hair. “Where would she even get a bottle of vodka?”

“Do you have a liquor cabinet at home?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t go in it. At least I didn’t think she did. Now I have to wonder what else I don’t know.” He hits the brakes when the light turns red and slams his palm against the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.” I put a hand on his forearm but he shakes me off.

“What kind of reasonable explanation can she possibly have for stealing a bottle of vodka?”

“I don’t know, Dax, but you need to calm down before you go in there. Otherwise it could make the problem a whole lot bigger.”

He doesn’t respond, just grips the steering wheel tighter. I don’t want to interfere, but going in elevated isn’t a good way to manage what will be a sensitive situation. He pulls into the parking lot and screeches into an empty space.

Before he can get out of the car, I curve my palm around the back of his neck. “Dax.”

His jaw clenches but he turns his frustrated gaze on me. Dax has never been silent, and I don’t like not knowing where he’s gone in his head.

“I need you to take a breath. Emme is a good kid going through a rough time. You’re a good brother learning how to be a dad. Find out all the facts before you react to the few you know.”

He closes his eyes and exhales a slow breath. “I’m trying, Kailyn.”

“I know you are.”

“All I wanted was a night to be me.”

There’s so much more in that single admission. His guilt over wanting that time fills the space around him, and I’m certain he’s already blaming himself for what’s happened. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have that.”

His phone buzzes again. “I need to go in there and find out what’s going on.”

“I can come with you, if you want.”

He nods and I look away, hiding my relief. I want to be there in case he loses his cool, which seems likely based on how edgy he is. We enter the school through the front doors. The lot is mostly empty and the school is fairly dark, apart from the front foyer.

We head for the office. A group of adults mill around the front desk, including a set of police officers, while four girls sit in the chairs, none of them talking.

“Dad!” Emme shoots up out of her chair and rushes over to Dax. Surprise registers when she realizes I’m with him. Her eyes are red rimmed and puffy, the makeup she put on while we were on video chat smudged.

She throws her arms around him and for a moment he just stands there, frozen. And then I realize why: She called him Dad, not Dax. It’s an easy slip, especially in a state of duress. He hugs her back, his face tight and ashen.

“You’re finally here. What took you so long, Daxton?” His aunt Linda steps out from behind one of the police officers. While I haven’t seen her since the last school-related incident, I still receive weekly emails inquiring about the safety of the trust and whether the funds are being allocated properly. We’re still waiting on a date for the custody hearing, hoping Linda’s going to drop it, although it seems unlikely at this point.

“I came as soon as I was called, which was only twenty minutes ago.”

“You live minutes from the school,” she points out.

He motions to his dress pants and tie. “I was out for dinner, not that it’s any of your business. Why are you here?”

Linda presses her hand to her chest. “I volunteered to supervise the dance, and when they couldn’t reach you at home, they asked me to step in.”

“Let’s go into my office where we can discuss the issue in private.” Mr. Proctor motions to his open door.

There’s a murmur of agreement and we file into the office. It feels claustrophobic with the solemn police officers and so many people stuffed into the room.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Hughes.” Mr. Proctor offers.

“I’m good standing, thanks.”

I put a hand on his arm, a silent warning to keep his cool before I take a seat next to Emme. Dax stands behind her, a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I’d like an explanation for what’s happened here,” Dax says.

According to the principal, Linda was on door duty and noticed the girls going back and forth to the bathroom a number of times. Emme’s locker is near the girls’ bathroom and there’s no locker access during the dance, which makes sense, but Emme went to hers twice, so they performed a locker search. “And this is what we found.”

The principal withdraws a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose—expensive for thirteen-year-olds—from the backpack on his desk.

“I didn’t steal that, Dax, and Ainsley and Marnie and Sasha said they don’t know anything about it, either,” Emme says.

Linda sighs from her seat next to the principal. “How did it get in your locker, then? Are you passing out your combination to your friends? You know we’ve talked about that.”

“I didn’t give my combination to anyone! I swear, Dax. I don’t know how it got in my locker! I just went in there to get…girl stuff,” Emme mumbles, cheeks turning red.