More Than I Could (29)

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 ….”

It takes a few seconds, but a smile slips across her face.

Before we can say anything, a car pulling into the driveway catches our attention.

Any progress we’ve made disappears.

Kennedy rolls her eyes and sighs. “The babysitter is here.”

A door slams in the distance.

“Look,” I say, turning to her. “You get to decide how the next month goes. Megan and I both want you to be happy and have fun. But if you want to be a twerp about this, then it can suck. It’s up to you.”

“Oh, you and Megan, huh? It’s already the two of you against me?”

Fuck. “Kennedy …”

Megan knocks on the mudroom door.

“She uses the mudroom already?” Kennedy asks. “Only our family uses that. We have a front door for visitors.”

Wow. I make my way across the room. “It’s a door. Let’s not overthink it.”

She hums.

I stop before leaving the room and face my daughter. She’s watching me with a hesitancy that relieves me a little.

“Hey,” I say.

“What?”

I grin. “It will never be me and anyone against you. We’re always on the same side, all right? So even if you’re mad at me, this is still a Dad and Kennedy Show.”

She sags against the corner of the table. “All right.”

“Now, be nice.”

Her arms cross over her stomach, and that’s good enough for me. At least her fangs are gone.

My heart pounds harder with every step through the mudroom. The knob slips under my hand as I pull the door open. A tightness forms across my chest as my gaze lands on Megan.

Motherfucker.

She’s piled her hair on top of her head in a messy knot. It probably took her all of three minutes to arrange it. I don’t see a speck of makeup on her face. A navy shirt with a collar across her clavicle—nice and high, covering her cleavage—and a pair of denim shorts that would be acceptable in any social situation adorn her body. Nothing suggests she gave a single thought to her appearance this morning.

And it’s somehow the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.

“Eleven thirty,” she says, smiling. “On the dot.”

I glance over her shoulder. Gavin sticks his middle finger out the window as he speeds down the road. “Where did your car go?”