She laughs and sits on the edge of the bed. “We had fun at Mucker’s. You sang some karaoke with Matt.”
“I did?” I groan. “I apologize.”
“You were terrible,” she agrees. “But it was fun.”
“What else?”
“Just normal Friday-night stuff. Penn found some sidewalk chalk and decorated the patio. Mr. Mucker isn’t going to be thrilled when he sees that this morning.”
“I bet not.” I laugh.
“We ordered pizza and told stories and Patrick ended up coming by to see Brittney, and Matt . . .” She blows out a breath. “Let’s just say Patrick will be avoiding Matt for a while.”
I sit up. The pounding in my temples eases a bit as I prop myself up on some pillows. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened. It was what Matt threatened to make happen if Patrick didn’t back off Britt. He’s such an ass—Patrick, not Matt.” She pats my leg. “Bet you missed the drama of Dogwood Lane, huh?”
“Right.” I slide my legs off the bed and stretch my arms over my head. My joints crack as I work some life into them. “You should see the drama in the city. There are wars over parking spots and sidewalk space.”
“For real?”
I nod.
“I couldn’t live like that. No offense.” She gets to her feet. “I’ll be out of here, but if you want to stay, there’s a key under the aloe vera plant on the porch.”
I stand and my phone clatters from my pocket onto the floor. I retrieve it, no worse for the wear. “That’s the most obvious place in the world to hide a key, you know,” I say, giving my phone a final inspection.
She shrugs. “At least if they want to break in, they won’t bust my windows or something.”
“That’s such a terrible way to look at it.”
“It’s a warped outlook, I know. I blame it on my mother.” She heads to the doorway. “I’ll let you know before I leave.”
“I’ll be ready in a second. Just need to wake up and find . . . Where’s my car?”
“Mucker’s,” she tells me. “I can drop you off if you want.”
“Please?”
“No problem. Be ready in ten.”
Once she’s gone, I sit back on the bed. The mattress bends under my weight, and I would have absolutely no issues with lying back and going to sleep. That is, until the room is quiet long enough for me to feel the niggle in my chest. It’s a trigger that sends me right back to Dane.
Guilt sinks me deeper into the mattress. I shouldn’t have been so hateful last night, even if I did want to hurt his feelings. Retaliating isn’t my style, and the more I think about it, the worse I feel. I can’t hold on to this and keep fanning flames that should’ve died out years ago. It is pointless and makes me feel nasty.
“Ugh,” I groan, picking up my phone. Not in the mood for happy social media posts, I click the icon for email. Nestled in the middle of a shoe-sale notification and an alert for a new blog post on a sports website is an email from James Snow.
Dear Ms. Kimber,
Thank you for your application to Archon Sports. We were impressed with your résumé and body of work and would like to invite you to interview via telephone.
Please let me know a couple of dates and times that work for you, and I will send a confirmation email and instructions.
Looking forward to meeting you,
James Snow
Managing Editor, Archon Sports
Springing to my feet, I do a little dance in the middle of Claire’s guest room.
“Did I miss something?” Claire asks, coming into the room.
“I just got an interview.”
“Must be pretty special to elicit a dance this soon after waking up.”
“It’s okay,” I say, picking up my shoes. “I actually just left my job, so I’m happy to get anything while I figure out where I really want to land.”
Claire sits with me on the bed. She watches as I slip on my sneakers.
“Sometimes we all need a change of scenery,” she says. “Did you work there long?”
“A few years. They screwed me over on a promotion, and I decided to go elsewhere.” I bite my lip as I stand. “It wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done—just up and quitting my job. But I write stories telling little girls and grown women alike they can achieve anything they want. Not to let anyone knock them down. That they don’t have a ‘place’ in society. Staying at my job would’ve felt really hypocritical, you know?”
“Sounds like you made the right choice.” She gives me a quick hug. “Now I gotta get to the café, or I will be job hunting too.”
“Let’s go,” I say, following her out the door.
“Great job, Mia!”
She shrieks and jumps up and down, the bun on top of her head wobbling with each leap. “I did it!” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “Keyarah! Did you see?”
“Do it again,” her friend insists. “Hurry. When I did my back tuck the first time, I waited too long to do it again. Go.”
“It’ll be better this time,” Madison says from the side of the mat by Keyarah. “You know you can do it now.”
The three little girls banter back and forth while Mia gets settled at the corner of the mat. She looks at me with a hint of trepidation in her bright-green eyes. Her hands clench beside her.
“Hey,” I say. “Breathe. You got this, girl. Remember to push off your toes.”
“Okay.” She nods and takes a long, deep breath.
Motioning for the girls to quiet down, I take a step off the mat. Remaining as still as I can, I meet her eyes.
My heart sprints with her as she barrels across the floor. I hold my breath as she turns her roundoff, and my torso pulls up as Mia leaps backward and rotates.
“Come on,” I beg as she unwraps her body and sticks the landing. “Nailed it!”
Her friends cheer as I clap, watching Mia jet across the room toward me. Before I can congratulate her, she propels herself into me. “Thank you,” she says, her arms wrapped around my waist.
“You did it. Not me.” I laugh. “Aerial said you almost had it last week.”
“Yeah, but having you tell me I could do it was different.” Her eyes shine with gratitude, as if she really believes that.
My heart nearly bursts. “That had nothing to do with me. It was all you, kiddo.”
“She’s been working on that forever,” Madison says as she and Keyarah come up to us. “Since we got out of school. That was the first day you tried it, wasn’t it?”
Mia lets me go. “Yeah. The last day of school I tried it for the first time. I freaked out, and every time I tried it again, I remembered falling so hard. I didn’t think I could do it.”
“Let me tell you something,” I say. “You’re gonna fall a lot. Sometimes it’ll hurt and sometimes it won’t hurt as much as it will bruise you, and you’ll have that scar for a really long time. But you can’t let it stop you.”
“Sounds like you’re talking about life.” Aerial walks by, flipping me a wink. “Nice job, Mia.”
“Thanks!”
“Did you fall a lot?” Keyarah asks me.
“All the time,” I tell them. “The worst one was in Iowa. I’ll never forget it.”
“What happened?” Madison asks.
“Well, I got on the mat. I had hit this routine all year, and if I hit it, I would win.” I skip past the part about Dane and how my mind couldn’t shake him and his baby drama that day. “It shouldn’t have been hard at all. My foot slipped and I fell, whacking my head on the beam on my way down. It knocked me out cold.”
The girls gasp.
“My left side was purple for a long time,” I admit. “I had to miss a week of practices. But the worst part wasn’t any of that.” I look them each in the eye one at a time. “The worst part was the fear.”
“I’d be scared,” Keyarah says.
“But you’re scared of the dark too,” Madison tells her.
“Fear is healthy. It’s n
ormal.” I shrug. “It’s your body’s way of saying, ‘Hey, something scary is happening.’ But anything you do that you haven’t done before seems scary, right?”
They nod.
“Fear is also a way of saying, ‘We don’t really know how this is going to end, so you might want to double-check everything.’ And that’s a good thing. The key is to look at fear like your friend and not your enemy. And,” I say, leaning forward like I’m telling them a secret, “that little burst of adrenaline never hurts.”
“I could feel it.” Mia giggles. “Right before I took off, I felt really excited.”
“That’s it. Just don’t like it too much.” I laugh.
“Why not?” Madison asks.
“That’ll get you in trouble later. Adrenaline junkies have lots of bruises as they grow up.”
“I’m not growing up,” Mia informs us. “When you grow up you have to get a job and a house and bills.”
“And laundry,” Madison adds. “I hate putting up laundry, and I don’t even have to wash it yet.”
“Don’t grow up. That’s smart,” I tell Mia as I glance at my watch. “I think it’s quitting time, girls.”
“Will you be here next time?” Keyarah asks.
“Yeah. Will you?” Mia looks up at me. “You’re the best coach ever.”
“I should be. I’ll be here for a little while longer.”
They celebrate, making me laugh. Their reactions cause a swell in my chest, a sense of satisfaction that’s hard to achieve. Watching their purity for friendship, for cheering each other on, for a desire to achieve something new, spurs something inside me to want to do this again. I make a mental note to find a gym in New York where I can volunteer sometimes.
Aerial announces classes are over. The other two groups head into the locker-room area. Before my three girls can take off, I turn to them.
“One more time,” I tell Mia.
She trots to the corner of the mat and takes a steadying breath.
“You can do it!” Madison tells her.
“Use the adrenaline,” Keyarah yells.
Mia laughs, lifting her shoulders, and then sprints across the room and delivers.
“Yay!” I say, clapping. “Good one.”
“Thank you,” she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I can’t wait to show my—Dad!” Her face lights up, and she scurries across the mat, tripping off the edge.
“Don’t hurt yourself now,” I call out, laughing at her decent rebound. As I turn to see her leaping into a set of strong, tanned arms, my breath catches in my throat. Looking at me over the top of her head is a pair of green eyes that can belong to only one person.
Dane.
Oh my gosh.
My heel catches the edge of the mat, and I wobble backward, completely caught off guard.
“Careful, Miss Neely,” Keyarah tells me as she and Madison head to the locker room. I barely hear her over the white noise flooding my ears.
He holds her tight, his hand flat against her back as she hugs him hard. It’s an image I’ll never unsee or forget.
Dane as a father.
Dane as Mia’s father.
The things I said last night rattle through my brain. I cringe, wishing the mat beneath my feet would turn into a hole and swallow me. Guilt swallows me instead.
My chest refuses to expand. As every moment I’ve regretted him sleeping with Katie, as every terrible feeling I’ve had toward her and their child takes this opportunity to come barreling back, I think I might vomit.
Setting Mia back on her feet, he rips his eyes from mine and turns his attention back to his daughter.
His daughter.
Bile bubbles at the base of my throat.
“I did my back tuck, Dad.” Mia’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Miss Neely gives the best pep talks.”
Dane lifts his gaze. There’s no warmth there. It’s filled with an indifference that may as well cut me in half.
“Good job, rascal,” Dane says to Mia. His features change as he gives her a high five. “That calls for some ice cream, don’t you think?”
“Two scoops, okay? Because the back tuck is a big deal.”
He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Two scoops, but they have to be matching scoops. Two vanilla or two bubble gum, because the last time you got two weird flavors . . .”
She rubs her stomach. “Deal.”
They share a laugh that tugs at my heartstrings. I want to interject, to tell him how great she did today, to apologize for last night, but it feels like there is a wall between them and me. A wall built from shame.
She heads into the locker room, leaving Dane and me alone. He jabs a hand in his pocket and starts to turn away.
“Dane—” I call but am interrupted by Keyarah.
“Madison and I are staying all night with you soon,” Keyarah calls from the doorway of the locker room. “And we’re kicking your butt in rummy.”
“You two cheat,” he tells her, making her laugh as he heads toward the door.
“And we’re ordering pizza because you burn it.”
“Once. I burned it once. You have no forgiveness.”
“Nope.” She laughs, skipping back into the locker room.
Mia emerges and hands her bag to her father. She looks at him adoringly before turning to me. “Bye, Miss Neely.”
“Bye, Mia.” I give her my best smile before looking at Dane. I open my mouth to say goodbye, to smile, to do something, but am stopped by the apathetic look he gives me in return.
The door opens, a stream of sunlight coming inside that does nothing to warm my chilled heart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DANE
Two plates. Two forks. Two glasses. One frying pan and a cereal bowl from breakfast are freshly washed and drying on a towel beside the sink. Scent from the lavender dish soap that Mia picked out because she liked the color wafts through the kitchen.
The pipes in the ceiling squeal, and the distant sound of the music Mia plays while she showers goes quiet. Her footsteps patter overhead, and it’s just a few moments before I hear her run down the hallway and the door to her room slam shut.
I shake my head. She’s been scared of that hallway her entire life. Only in the last six months or so has she managed to get out of the shower and get to her room without yelling at me to come upstairs. Why I always listen in hopes she’ll call for me is anyone’s guess.
Drying my hands and throwing the towel on the counter, I make my way through the kitchen and living room. I stop and pick up Mia’s gym bag and hang it on the hook I put up for her near the door.
Flipping off the television and turning on a lamp by the sofa, I pause.
Artwork courtesy of my daughter hangs off an old board I fashioned with a few metal clips over the sofa. Pictures of her with her friends from Aerial’s, and a few with me, are framed along the fireplace in the corner. She picked out the blue rug in front of the television—insisting it was perfect for relaxing and that she now needed only a puppy—and the various throw pillows that I’d never choose. But they make her happy. That’s all that matters.
“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.
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