More Than I Could (32)

Megan narrows her eyes, trying to decide whether I’m kidding. I toss her a wink and watch the air exhale from her lungs.

“I would like to reiterate that part about fourteen-year-old boys not knowing shit,” I say, grinning. “That was the best fact of the day.”

“You’ll never think boys know anything, Dad.”

“You’re right—because they won’t. I know because I was one.”

“So when, exactly, does that change?” Kennedy smacks her lips together. “Otherwise, how do I know you know what you’re talking about? You’re a grown-up boy.”

“Simple. When someone, not just boys, can make decisions based on character and not emotions, you can give things they say a little credit.”

Megan nods emphatically. “Oh, I like that. I like that a lot.”

“That’s good, huh? It came to me one day while I was driving home from work.”

She lifts a brow. “So you think about emotional maturity while driving home from work? What do you think about before going to sleep?”

Last night, your ass. “Depends on the day.”

A slow smirk slips across her lips as if she just read my mind.

I shift in my seat again. Change the subject, Chase. Fast. “On a serious note, I’ll update the school contacts list with Megan’s name tonight. Ride the bus home, Kennedy, and do homework before you even think about asking to do anything.”

“Dad. Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

She groans as if I just told her she was grounded. “I thought that since Gram isn’t here, maybe we could modernize things a little bit. You know, ease up on the reins.”

“Negative.”

“Dad.”

“No.”

Kennedy doesn’t give up. Instead, she banters back and forth, countering every point and reason I give with a surprisingly strong argument. A part of me is exhausted from the constant bickering with her—the poking at boundaries and her challenging me on practically everything.

But another part of me is proud of that very thing.

I don’t want her growing up too ready to agree with anything someone says. I want her to think. To stand up for herself. To not be afraid to push back for the things she wants. Things that matter.

Even if it is biting me in the ass at the moment.

Megan watches us with an amused grin, her chin cupped in her hand and elbow resting on the table.

Just as I’m about to ask if she has anything to add—for no reason other than to include her in the conversation—the door to the mudroom flings open.

“Hey, Mr. Marshall. Miss me?” Neve says, her curly red hair bouncing against her shoulders.

“Terribly.”

She laughs as she prances around the room until she’s standing behind Kennedy. “You must be the babysitter.”

Megan laughs. “It’s nice to meet you, Neve.”

I groan. “Not you with the babysitter crap too.”

“Well, I’m the best friend,” Neve says, pleased with herself for irritating me. “I would say I’m Mr. Marshall’s favorite non-relative, but”—she makes a point of looking at Megan before returning her gaze to me—“I think that’s probably not true these days.”

Kennedy pushes her head back against Neve’s stomach.

“Neve,” I say, ignoring Megan’s stare, “pretend you have manners, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss. Moving on, I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“You know—I’m not, really.” I just wish you’d leave.

Neve sighs. “I’ll cut to the chase. No pun intended.” She giggles at her joke. “Can Kennedy please, please, please come over today?’

“Please, Dad?”

“Mom said she’ll bring her home tonight—whenever you want,” Neve promises. “And we’ll be on time because I know you got a little upset when we were, like, five minutes late last time.”

I snort. “Five minutes, Neve? Are we just lying outright now, or what?”

“Fine. Thirty-five or whatever it was.”

“It was forty-five, and none of you, including your mother, answered your phones.”

Megan grimaces.

“Do you have any fun facts about tardiness?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “Don’t pull me into this one. You’re handling it fine on your own.”

“Oh, come on,” Kennedy says. “Where’s the girl bond now?”

“Are you girl bonding with someone besides me?” Neve asks, gasping. “I’m shocked.”

Megan laughs. “I just knew that math killed someone once. I’m not here to steal your best friend, Neve. Relax.”

She stands tall. “I would hope not. We’ve been through it together.”

“Been through it? Through what?” I ask. “You’re fourteen.”

“Can we not point out how old I am for the fourteen hundredth time this week?” Kennedy fake cries. “Will this stop when I’m fifteen, or will you just change the language?”

Megan lifts a finger. “Okay, I’m going to chime in here. She has a point, Chase.”

“Whose side are you on?” I ask, dropping my jaw.