Page 4 of Choosing Forever
They’re too slicked with sweat, so I tuck them into my lap with a brief shake of my head. That only makes Daisy’s frown deeper, her eyes sadder. Everything about that grates on me. It isn’t pity as much as it is pain for me and my jagged past in Cherry Peak. I’m not sure which would be worse at this point.
“I’m not saying no. But I appreciate you looking out for me, though.”
“I’ll always look out for you. We all will. Which is why I just don’t think this is a good idea. If this is about wanting to prove something?—”
I cut her off, my voice tight. “I don’t need to prove anything toanyonein this town.”
Just myself.
“No, you don’t. And that’s why I wish you’d turn this down.”
“It was only a matter of time,” I say, as if that helps stall the cracking in my chest.
After seven years of watching the only man I’ve ever loved raise his little girl, I thought I had at least one more year before I was forced to get to know her. To call her name every day, grade her tests, and help answer questions she doesn’t know the answers to.
I’ve run out of time already. And despite the burn in the backs of my eyes at the mere thought of it, I know there isn’t any escaping it now. There’s no more escaping him and the pain of our past.
Darren Huntsly broke me eight years ago, and now . . . now, he’s going to try and do it again. Only this time, it will be the little girl with her daddy’s eyes who finishes me off.
2
DARREN
I’m only backin Cherry Peak for five minutes before I want to leave again.
The back seat of the car is whipped open the moment I park on the driveway. Abbie’s hardly had a chance to finish her yawn and wake up from her sleep before her mother’s diving in to unbuckle her.
“You were supposed to be home an hour ago!” Sasha scolds, a fiery glare aimed my way.
I ignore her evil eye, pretending I didn’t see it in the rear-view before climbing out. My ex-wife is already bundling our daughter into her arms and pulling her out of my car by the time I reach them.
“There was an accident on the highway,” I say shortly.
One that I worried we wouldn’t make it past without running out of gas. We were at a standstill for four hours before they got the semi out of the way and could open one of the two lanes of traffic back up. What a phone call that would have been to her.
As expected, Sasha doesn’t give a shit about my reasoning. “I wasn’t expecting to be here waiting this long. Clearly, you could have given me a bit more clarity on the situation.”
I take a moment to sort myself before replying, the long drive and current time taking its toll on my already dwindling patience. After riding such a high this past weekend, showing Abbie my favourite hidden camping spots in the mountains, I knew I’d be slapped by reality the moment we pulled back into Cherry Peak.
I’ve lived here my entire life, but the older I get, the more I’ve contemplated leaving. If I didn’t have Abbie . . . I can’t say if I wouldn’t have already.
“You didn’t need to pick her up tonight. She’s tired, Sasha.”
Abbie yawns again, loud enough to slice through the tension that’s grown. “I just want to go to bed here, Dad.”
“Let’s go inside, then, sweetheart. You’ll see your mom in the morning.”
Sasha’s fingers flex on Abbie’s shoulders before falling away. If I thought I was getting the evil eye before, now it’s downright murderous. It’s almost more relaxing to see her be this pissed off at me than whatever the alternative is. This is the constant mood between us. It’s familiar. Worse now that I’m changing plans on her without asking first.
With a huff, she butts me to the side and crouches in front of Abbie, smoothing her hands up and down her arms. The crinkle of her nose as she takes in the dirty fabric of our daughter’s fall jacket makes me proud.
“Alright. I’ll be back as soon as you’re up tomorrow morning. We’ll go out for breakfast to catch up, okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” Abbie whispers.
“I love you. Go right to bed. You need to be getting back on your regular sleep schedule. I’m sure you were up far too late the last few nights.”
Abbie blinks, recognizing the firm tone of Sasha’s voice as a partial scolding.
