Page 48 of Kind of a Bad Idea

Binx sighs. “Well, obviously, but I’m okay, okay? There’s no need to freak out.”

“No need?” Her mom props her fists on her hips as she glares up at her taller daughter. “You could be dead! Your sister could have killed you.”

“I’m sorry,” Wendy Ann says, hanging her head out the passenger’s window of the SUV. “I was just trying to be supportive and think outside the box.” Fran shoots a dangerously sharp glance her way. Wendy Ann cringes lower in her seat and quickly adds, “But now I see that it was a dangerous and dumb and irresponsible thing to do. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t do it, I promise.” She flaps an arm Binx’s way. “But she’s okay! See? We got lucky this time and everyone is fine. So, now, we can go, and I’ll come back on Friday morning to get them, the way we planned.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Fran says, jabbing a finger at Binx. “Look at your sister. She looks like she’s been through hell.” She fixes her attention on her older daughter again, clutching at her neck as she shakes her head. “I swear you look like you’ve lost ten pounds overnight. Your face is positively haggard.”

Binx’s face isn’t haggard. Her face is beautiful. When we were standing by the grill and she was smiling up at me, all I could think about was how fucking perfect she is. How stunning. Her mother is clearly seeing this entire situation through fear-colored glasses.

But hopefully, I can help ease her mind.

“Hey, I thought I heard a car pull up.” I force a smile as I approach from behind them, pretending I haven’t been eavesdropping. “Hi, Mrs. McGuire. Wendy Ann.” I nod at them in turn, ignoring the way Fran’s lips pucker into a cat anus in the middle of her face in response to my appearance on the scene. I cross my arms over my chest as I come to stand beside Binx. “I just finished grilling some sausages, if you’re hungry.”

“We were actually just leaving,” Fran says, waving Binx toward the house. “Go get your things, honey.” To me she adds in a cooler voice, “I’m sorry we can’t offer you a ride, too, Seven, but I have to be at my son’s house for a family dinner in an hour. Wendy Ann has been in touch with your mother, however, and she said she would come get you tomorrow morning after she gets your daughter off to school.”

The judgement in her tone on the words “your daughter” is pointed enough to tear a hole in the extra-strong denim of work jeans. Clearly, she doesn’t think I should have taken time away from my parenting responsibilities to go on a fake rock-climbing trip. She has no idea that I can count the number of vacations I’ve taken without Sprout on two fingers—this trip and a white-water rafting excursion two summers ago that was too dangerous for a six-year-old—or that I’m one of the most involved parents I know.

Fran took one look at me and jumped to conclusions based on my tattoos, my motorcycle, and the fact that I’m roughly twice the size of most of the other men in town. She’s not the first, and she won’t be the last, and it’s not like having done time does me any favors.

But I made that mistake when I was a very young man. I’ve been on the straight and narrow, with my head down, working hard, for two decades. I’ve also been devoted to raising a great kid for the past eight years, never missing a parent-teacher conference or forgetting what I promised to donate to the end-of-school potluck. Don’t I ever get to put my past behind me and be judged for the things I’ve done right instead of the one thing I did wrong?

In a town this small?

Probably not.

Certainly not when it comes to close-minded people like Fran McGuire.

I know that, but I can’t stop myself from saying, “Listen, I know this must have been scary for you. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I found out my daughter had been dropped off in the woods with no way to call for help if she needed it. Even if she were in her twenties, it wouldn’t matter, I’d still be scared and angry.”

Fran’s puckered mouth softens the slightest bit, but her gaze is still frosty.

I try again, adding, “This clearly wasn’t a well-thought-out plan, and I’ll be speaking to my family about their part in it when I get home to make sure they never pull a stunt like this again.” I turn to Binx, smiling as I add, “But luckily, we made it to the cabin without too many bumps and bruises along the way, and we’ve been having a wonderful time getting away from it all. Neither one of us has had a vacation in a while and this has been…really nice.”

“Really, really nice,” Binx murmurs, but before our little love fest can get too cozy, Fran cuts in.

“Speaking of vacation,” she says, her tone hot and sharp. “I don’t know why you thought now was a good time to take an entire week off work, Binx. The housing market is crazy right now. Aren’t you worried your clients will feel abandoned? I’m sure at least one of them is closing this week, and think of all the new business you’re missing out on by not being at your desk. My friend Kim’s daughter is starting her house hunt this weekend, and I told her to call you about getting pre-approved.”

Fran exhales a long-suffering sigh. “Now, I’ll have to call her back, and tell her to try you when you’re at your desk next week. Unless you plan on heading back into the bank tomorrow. I’m sure it’s not too late to get your vacation days reinstated if you want to go in. Albie is the sweetest boss in the world. He’s always so good about working with you. And if you go in this week, you’ll have more time to take off for the holidays. Everyone’s going to be here this year. All the cousins are flying in from Texas, and Tatum’s entire family is going to be here from Kentucky. She has nearly as many siblings as you do, so we’re going to need all-hands-on-deck to find beds for them and keep everyone entertained.”

“I’m happy to host one of Tatum’s sisters at my house,” Binx says, “they sound great, but…”

“But what?” Fran huffs again and glances at the slim gold watch on her wrist. “We should talk about this on the way back into town. Go grab your things. I’ll open the tailgate and you can just throw the entire mess in and sort through it later. If we don’t go soon, we’re going to be late.”

“Mom, I’m not going with you,” Binx says, standing firm. “And I’m not taking time off from the bank. I quit.”

Oh, shit…

Apparently, she’s decided it’s time to take a stand with her mother, which I fully support, but I can’t help wishing she’d done it at a later date, when I wasn’t present. Fran is a proud woman, who thinks she knows what’s best for her children. The only thing harder than having her daughter defy her is having that defiance witnessed by a stranger.

As I could have predicted, Fran’s eyes widen and shift straight to me, accusation flaring in her gaze before she glances back to Binx. “What? You quit? Why on earth did you quit? You’re doing so well there. You’re one of their top loan officers.”

“I quit because I hated my job, Mom,” Binx says, her shoulders hitching closer to her ears.

Fran emits a startled squawk. “What? But you always looked happy when I stopped by the bank. And Albie adores you.”

“I like Albie, too,” Binx says, “and all the other people I worked with. It wasn’t the people. It was the job. I don’t want to be a loan officer. I never did.” She drags a clawed hand through her hair before adding, “Hell, I didn’t even want to go to business school. I just couldn’t think of anything I actually wanted to do that wouldn’t make you disappointed in me. But I’ve realized there’s something more important than you being disappointed in me, Mom. There’s me being disappointed in me, and that’s how I’ve felt lately. I’ve felt like a coward, too chickenshit to do what I really want with my life. But it’s my life, and I have to live it the way that feels right to me, not to anyone else.”

Fran’s jaw hangs open for a beat before she sputters, “Well, I… I never said you had to major in business. I never even said you had to go to college. When you talked about going to trade school to learn welding, I wasn’t happy about how dangerous that can be, but I was open to it. We discussed it.”

---