Page 6 of Gifts

I try to sound convincing. “It’s not your fault, Danielle. She just turned fifteen and is trying to figure out who she is. You’ll see them in a few weeks. Until then, I’ve got this.”

After being divorced for thirteen years, we’ve found a way to set aside our differences for the kids. She’s been happily married for ten to a decent man who likes my kids. But when he got transferred to Los Angeles a few months back, my kids didn’t want to go. I couldn’t blame them. Levi’s a senior and has already committed to Johns Hopkins to play lacrosse. Emma’s a freshman and just turned fifteen last month. She all but threw a teenage girl fit when her mom told her they were moving across the country.

I’ve done my best over the last three years to spend quality time my adolescent children. Moving back to Virginia to work with Crew gave me the chance to do that.

But the game changed when Danielle’s husband was transferred and the kids didn’t want to go. It was my time to step up and I offered to buy a house in their school district so they could stay in Virginia instead of moving to California. They got to keep their school, friends, and everything they knew. But along with that, they got their dad full-time for the first time in a long while. We’ve been at it for four months.

It’s been interesting.

With Levi, I’ve done okay. Emma’s a different story.

Her grades have dropped, she’s withdrawn from her friends, and has become closed off from everyone. This has all happened since the move, so, of course, Danielle’s blaming herself. That still doesn’t mean Emma wouldn’t have gone through this anyway—I can’t imagine this is all because her mom moved. Right now, all Emma has is me, so we’re going to have to work through this shit together.

“You have to get her to talk, Asa. She can be bullheaded at times—not to mention her teenage hormones—but this behavior isn’t who she is. We have to figure it out sooner than later.” Danielle’s voice is anxious as she goes on, telling me what she’s told me a million times since she left.

I do my best to keep my patience. “I’m meeting with the counselor in a few minutes. If I have to, I’ll meet with every teacher and reach out to her old friends. I’ll let you know what I find, but you need to know I’ve got this. She’s my daughter, too. I’m not going to let her fuck up her life under my watch. I’ve cut my work in half so I’m available when she’s not in school. I’m even monitoring all activity on her phone, but so far, there’s nothing.”

I hear her sigh. “I know you’re trying. Levi tells me you’re there all the time and even trying to cook. I just miss them.”

“Call her tonight. I’ve gotta go or I’ll be late for my meeting.”

“Let me know what the counselor says,” Danielle demands, almost desperate.

I shake my head since I know she means well, but, as patient as I am, it’s starting to grate on my nerves. “I will.”

I hang up, not giving her another chance to vent or make further demands. Climbing out of my truck, I head for the main entrance of the high school and once I get through security, check in at the office.

“Asa Hollingsworth. I’m here to meet with Mrs. Lockhart about my daughter, Emerson.”

The secretary picks up her phone and gestures to the clipboard in front of me. “I’ll let her know you’re here. Please sign in and fill out a visitor’s badge.”

I do as she says and move to the side of the room to wait.

After a few minutes, another door finally opens and I can’t believe my eyes.

It’s Miss I-Hate-Saturdays.

She might be looking down at her file, but I know for a fact it’s her. It’s the same long, strawberry-blonde hair that made me stop when I saw her stranded on the side of the road. I stopped to help her, but ended up changing that loser’s tire since she was desperate to get home.

I had to force her out of my mind, leaving her with a man who doesn’t know how to change a fucking tire.

But just five days later, here she is.

As good as she looked in jeans and heels while standing in a ditch, I might enjoy looking at her now even more. In a skirt that hits her above the knees, I wonder how she moves since it’s molded to every curve.

Every perfect, fucking curve.

Her shirt clings to her tits, and in another pair of sexy heels, she doesn’t stand taller than my shoulders.

I watch her hand come up to tuck her long hair behind her ear. “Mr. Hollingswor—” Her voice catches the second she lays eyes on me.

Seeing her expression go from all business to surprised is a sight to see. Here in the harsh, fluorescent lighting, it’s easier to see the blue of her eyes set against her light, creamy skin. Her features are perfect, just as delicate as the rest of her. I can’t look away from her full pink lips as they part before she gathers herself quickly and glances back down at the file in her hand.

When her eyes dart back, she repeats with a scowl, “Mr. Hollingsworth?”

I don’t move from where I’m leaning against the windowed wall of the office. I do, however, feel myself smile and raise an eyebrow when I respond, “That would be me.”

She looks to her file quickly before back up. “Asa Hollingsworth?”

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