Page 30 of The Perfect Snipe

“You sure about that? Because you look about as excited as I do when I have to do my taxes.”

That gets a tiny smile out of her, but it fades quickly. Stella's lower lip trembles slightly, and my heart clenches. “No,” she admits softly.

I scan the room, wondering if I missed some playground drama or a stern word from the teacher. Finding no clues, I turn back to Stella, who's now peeling the fried batter off the pickle.

“I know Dad loves that I dance,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I think I like CrossFit more.”

Oh, shit.

Not what I was expecting to hear, but also quite common. I’ve had quite a few conversations with my students over the years about their feelings and parental expectations. Sometimes it was easy to handle, other times I had to get guidance involved.

I place my hand on top of hers and squeeze lightly. “Hey, that's okay. You don't have to feel bad about that. Lots of people try different activities before they find what they really love.”

“I don't want to hurt his feelings. He looked so happy at the recital.” Stella's shoulders hunch, a gesture so reminiscent of Leo that it takes my breath away. It's like looking at a miniature, female version of him, all brooding and stoic. If she starts grunting monosyllabic responses, I'm calling for backup.

“Dad isn't home a lot, so I like to see him happy.” The raw honesty in her voice threatens to shatter me. Christ, when did this kid get so perceptive? And how the hell am I supposed to handle this?

It’s one thing when it’s my students. I make a phone call or have a conference. There’s distance between them and me, especially if they don’t take kindly to learning their child is unhappy about something they are doing.

But when it comes to Stella and Leo . . ..

I kneel in front of her, ignoring the disapproving glances from other parents as I tie her shoe. Screw them and their judgy looks. “Listen, Stella. Your dad loves you no matter what. Whether you're dancing, doing CrossFit, or deciding to become a competitive eater. His happiness doesn't depend on you doing any specific activity.”

Stella looks up at me, her hazel eyes wide and uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I say, with more confidence than I feel. Fake it till you make it, right? “Tell you what. Let's get you home and get some dinner. Maybe even ice cream. How does that sound? And then we can talk to your dad together. I bet he'd love a CrossFit meet just as much as a recital.”

Stella nods, a small smile tugging at her lips as I help her into her jacket. Her tiny hand slips into mine as we head to the car, and I'm struck by how natural it feels. Sure, I’m a teacher and work with kids every day. But this . . . this feels different.

The only other kid I’ve felt like this for is Jake. And he’s like my nephew. Family.

As I adjust the rearview mirror, Stella's quiet voice fills the car. “Do you think he loves Mason more?”

The question hits me like a sucker punch, knocking the air out of my lungs. In the mirror, I see Stella's face, her brow furrowed as she fights to keep her composure. It takes everything in menot to pull over and wrap her in a hug. Instead, I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.

“Why do you think that?” I ask, my own childhood memories threatening to surface. Memories of feeling invisible, of wondering why I wasn't enough. I push them down, focusing on Stella.

“He finds time to coach the Rockets for Mason.” The hurt in her voice is palpable, and it makes me want to shake Leo until he realizes what he's doing to his daughter.

I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “He loves you, Stella. Just as much as he loves Mason. Sometimes parents . . . they don't always show it in the best way. But that doesn't mean the love isn't there.”

“How do you know that?” The doubt in her voice breaks my heart. No kid should have to question whether their parent loves them.

“Because I had parents very much like your dad,” I say, the words coming out raw and honest. “And just because they were busy, that didn't mean they didn't love me or miss me very much. They worked hard because they thought that's what parents had to do to show their love.”

As I speak, a weight lifts from my chest. Just because they weren't there, didn't mean they didn't love me. It's a revelation I didn't know I needed until this moment. Funny how trying to help someone else can end up helping you too.

“Yeah, well. The way he shows it is dumb then.” Leave it to a kid to cut through all the bullshit and get straight to the point.

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, unexpected but cathartic. “You're not wrong. It is dumb. But adults can be pretty dumb sometimes, especially when it comes to important stuff like this.”

“So what do we do?” There's a steel in her tone that reminds me so much of Leo, it's uncanny.

“We'll tell your dad together, okay? If you don't want to dance, then no more dance. We'll figure out something else you enjoy. Maybe more CrossFit, or something completely different. The important thing is that you're happy.”

“Promise?” The hope in her voice is unmistakable.

“I promise.”

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