Tumble (Dogwood Lane, #1)(31)

“Dad! Come tuck me in!”

“Coming,” I call back. Taking the steps two at a time, I hit the landing. Passing the bathroom and the spare room across from it, I get to the door with the purple star cutout hung a little crooked. It opens with a gentle push.

She’s curled on her side, her wet hair all over her polka-dot sheets. “Took you long enough,” she teases.

“Some of us have to do the dishes and pick up gym bags.” I give her a look as I sit on the edge of her bed. “Any reason why it missed the hook?”

“I’m lazy?” she offers.

“I think so.” I laugh before kissing her on the forehead. “Sounds like you had a good practice tonight.”

She rattles on about her back tuck, and I do my best to feign interest. As she goes into the mechanics of the trick, my mind wanders. But instead of going through a mental list of lumber needed in the morning or wondering if Penn put the saws up before he left today, my thoughts go straight to Neely.

The look on her face tonight is seared in my brain. But then again, so are the words she spat at me last night.

“I really like her, Dad.”

Coming out of my reverie, I peer down at my girl. “Who?”

“Miss Neely. I really like her.” She snuggles into her bedding. “She makes things seem so easy.”

You’re telling me.

“She was always really smart,” I offer, figuring that’s fair enough.

“You know her?” She pulls the blankets from her face. “You know Miss Neely?”

“Yeah, I know Miss Neely. We grew up together. She was in Uncle Matt’s class.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I laugh. “Why are you looking at me like I said I knew a rock star?”

“Did you know she was a college champion?”

“Yes. And she had many state titles before that. She also won the Spell Bowl in eighth grade and was on the Academic Bowl team in high school. Two or three years, I think.”

She gasps. “How did I not know you knew her?”

“I know a lot of people you don’t know I know.” I wait for a response but am met with only a slack jaw. “What? Am I supposed to give you a list of all the people I’ve ever known?”

Mia tosses the blankets back and sits up. “Yes, if they’re important.”

“Lie back down,” I tell her. Chuckling, I help her get situated again. Once she’s under the covers, she waits patiently. I try to outwait her, but I know she’ll win. With a sigh, I shake my head. “Fine. I knew Neely really well. At one point in my life, I thought I’d marry her.”

The words slip easily by my lips. They sound right and that annoys me.

“Why didn’t you? She’s really pretty, Dad. And smart, like you said. And she’s so nice.”

“She’s all those things, rascal.”

My gaze settles on a picture of Mia and Katie, the only one we have. Mia is all bundled up in pink blankets the day we brought her home. It sits on top of her dresser in a little black frame. I never catch her looking at it, and she never moves it but insists it stays.

My heart cracks because that love, a mother’s love, is one I don’t think Mia will ever know. I’m not sure Katie has it in her to give that kind of affection. We never shared it in the ten months we were together, roughly speaking. And she didn’t show it to our daughter in the month she stuck around after she gave birth.

My only solace in it all is that Katie knew enough to just leave. She packed her car, told me we were better off without her, that she had no inclination to be a mother, and left. My mother couldn’t do that; she drank herself to death right in front of us.

“So . . .” Mia nudges my arm. “Why didn’t you marry her?”

Because I broke up with her so she’d go to college. Got drunk. Got Katie pregnant. And never spoke to Neely again after telling her the news.

“There’s more to getting married than finding a pretty, smart, nice person,” I say. Standing up, I tuck the sheets in around her.

“I bet she would’ve married you.”

I act like I’m shocked. “Are you saying I’m awesome?”

“No.” She giggles. “I’m saying when you walked into the gym today, she made that face at you that Penn makes at Haley.”

“Mia, Penn makes that face at everyone.” I flip on her nightlight. “And if Penn ever does anything, you should do the opposite. Big lesson right there. Did I land it?”

“As good as I landed my tuck.”

“Great.” I kneel at the edge of her bed. She closes her eyes and folds her hands together in front of her face. “Dear God, thank you for all the blessings you’ve given us. Please protect us while we sleep. Amen.”

“Amen.” Her lashes flutter open as she yawns. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you, rascal.” After a kiss to her forehead, I flip off the lamp and head to the door. “Don’t even think about using the flashlight under your pillow to read after I leave.”

“Dad,” she groans. “How’d you know?”

“Because I know everything,” I whisper. “And if I pick up your bag off the floor again, you’re taking out the trash. Understood?”

“Yes,” she grumbles. “Good night.”