Page 41 of Tempt (Peachwood Falls #1)

C hase

“So tell me,” I say.

Kennedy moves so she’s a couple of feet behind Megan. Megan reaches back and takes her hand, tugging her forward until they’re shoulder to shoulder.

My daughter’s eyes are shifty. She has a little smirk on her lips that tells me she’s done something I’m not going to love. The gesture is more of a shield than anything—her way of bolstering her confidence.

My sights settle on Megan. Holy shit, she’s gorgeous. It’s hard to believe she’s as pretty as I imagined while I was gone. I didn’t make her up. She’s real .

She clears her throat.

“So?” I ask, prompting her to speak. “What do you have to tell me?” Get it over with so I can get you alone somewhere.

“I want to preface this conversation by saying everything is fine,” Megan says. “There’s no need to panic.”

My stomach knots. “Maybe if you’d tell me what’s happening, I wouldn’t.”

“Good point.”

My high spirits at coming home to my girls dissolve like sand out of an hourglass. I’m draining—all my energy and enthusiasm wane more and more as I wait for an explanation as to why I shouldn’t panic.

Megan takes a deep breath. “I got a call today.”

“Who from?”

I spin a million thoughts in a few seconds, conjuring up every person who might’ve called Megan and every reason. This is not helping .

“I had the pleasure of meeting Principal Walding and Mrs. Falconberry today,” Megan says.

It’s the nonchalance for me . I lift a brow and look at my daughter.

My goodwill is gone. The hourglass is empty, and I’m left clutching the back of a chair for support.

I hang my head and will myself to stay calm. Dammit, Kennedy . “I know you’re being facetious because I’ve met both people, and it wasn’t pleasurable either time.”

If it were a different day, I would look at Megan and wink. But it’s today, and I don’t have it in me to be coy.

“I’m suspended for three days, Dad.”

My head whips up. “Excuse me? Please, say that again because I just thought I heard you say you are suspended.”

Kennedy doesn’t balk. “That’s what I said.”

I switch my gaze between them. I don’t even know where to start.

Every nick, scrape, pulled muscle—they all burn. It’s as if the thread holding me together snapped and smacked me in the face.

“What did you do?” I ask my child.

“So it’s automatically something I did?”

“Well, yeah, considering you were suspended . I’m going out on a limb here and assuming they weren’t picking random kids at lunch to go home for three days.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Ken, now isn’t the time.”

She groans into the air as if I just ruined her life. The audacity kills me.

I march across the room, leaving Megan standing with her jaw hanging open, and swing the refrigerator open. It’s stocked with food—containers of whatever they’ve been snacking on while I was away stacked neatly next to the milk, juice, and tea.

It only serves to frustrate me more.

For once, I didn’t just feel like I was surviving. There was a reason for me to come home beyond taking care of my daughter, and that was really fucking nice.

And instead of sitting down with the two of them, piecing a meal together, and listening to them tell me about their day, I’m grabbing a beer out of the fridge and figuring out why Kennedy is suspended.

Fucking hell .

The more I think about it, the more the frustration adds to my exhaustion.

I slam the fridge closed and pop a beer open with more force than necessary. “So someone better talk.”

“Mrs. Falconberry wrote Kennedy a disciplinary action for stealing a cupcake,” Megan says.

My eyes bulge. “A what?”

“One of those individually wrapped things that taste like garbage,” Kennedy says. “I wouldn’t eat that if I had to—especially when Megan made the best cupcakes the other night.”

I rub my forehead. Make it make sense .

“She also said that Kennedy engaged in a verbal altercation with her,” Megan says warily.

I pace the room and try to figure out what to do. I’m at my wit’s end. Somehow, I had convinced myself that she was doing better—that she could manage two days without blowing something up.

But I was wrong. And I find out about it when I get home .

“What did you say to her?” I ask. “What kind of verbal altercation did you engage in?”

“Chase, listen, I don’t think?—”

“I want to hear her take responsibility for whatever she’s done to get thrown out of school for three days .”

My voice rises as disbelief in what I’m saying takes over.

“You want to know what I did?” Kennedy asks, her voice shaking. “I’ll tell you what I did. Mrs. Falconbury said if I had a mother, I’d know how to behave.”

What the fuck ? I set my beer on the counter.

My blood runs cold as I force myself to remain calm. A fucking adult said this to my child?

Heads are going to roll.

“And I told her that …” Her bottom lip trembles. “I told her that not having a mother had nothing to do with my behavior because I have the greatest dad ever.”

She turns on her heel and bolts toward the hallway.

“Ken!” I shout.

“Leave me alone!”

Her feet pound against the stairs. The sound is punctuated by her bedroom door slamming.

“Fuck,” I say, rubbing a hand down my face.

Megan comes to me. She burrows the side of her face into my chest. She holds me tight despite the mud, dirt, and oil all over me.

“Give her a second,” Megan whispers. “Let her have a minute to herself.”

I close my eyes and focus on steadying my breath. Megan’s embrace helps. It centers me. And I’m sure it helped Kennedy today too.

“She’s a good girl, Chase,” Megan whispers.

I wrap my arms around Megan and kiss the top of her head.

Thank God she was with Kennedy today. I’m eternally grateful that my daughter didn’t have to battle the school alone. But I wonder … how long has this been going on? Has this happened before? Why has she never said anything to me?

Have I been wrong this whole time ? A stream of memories floods my mind. No, I haven’t. She’s snuck out, stolen my truck, gotten detention—gotten suspended .

Is this a stage? Are there layers to all of this that I haven’t seen? Have I been focusing on the wrong thing?

More importantly, when does it end?

“I hate that this is where we are,” I say. “That it got to the point that she got into a sparring match with a fucking teacher, of all people. Did I miss something?”

Megan pulls away. “In her defense, her teacher is horrible. And if I can offer some advice—someone needs to contact the superintendent or school board about her. If she’s acting this way to Kennedy, she’s probably not the only kid she’s messing with.”

“I’ll tell you what I did. Mrs. Falconbury said if I had a mother, I’d know how to behave.”

What else has she said to my daughter?

I grit my teeth. “Yeah, well, I’ll be seeing Mrs. Falconbury again, and it’ll be less pleasurable than the first.”

“Want me to go with you?”

I look at Megan. “Actually, why am I just now hearing about this? Why didn’t you call me today?”

“Because what would you have done?”

I look at her. That’s not the point .

“You asked me to handle things, Chase. I handled it. You were however many hours away, and she was safe. There was no need for you to hurry home. You can handle it now.”

I raise a brow. “That’s not your call to make.”

“ What ?”

“This is a big fucking deal—especially if the school isn’t doing what’s right by Kennedy. I should’ve been there to advocate for her. Why did no one call me?”

“Probably because I’m on the emergency list because you added me.”

I scrub a hand roughly down my face. This is not going well .

“If you don’t trust me with her, you shouldn’t have added me to her contacts list,” Megan says, her words sharp.

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Then explain it to me because I’m confused.”

I groan, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and squeezing.

It’s not that I don’t trust her with Kennedy. It’s not that at all. Actually, aside from my mother, I trust Megan with her more than anyone else.

The problem is that I feel removed from what’s going on with Kennedy.

But I don’t want to fight about it. I have bigger fish to fry.

“So does this have any effect on her schoolwork?” I ask, forcing myself to mentally move on for now. “Does she get to make up whatever they do in the three days she’s gone?”

“I don’t know.”

Breathe .

“Are you mad at me, Chase? Because I get the feeling you are.”

I turn around and face her.

A genuine concern glimmers in her eye, and my heart softens as I take her in. She took care of my kid today in a situation that was probably frustrating as hell. Am I mad at her ? No. I’m just mad at the situation. At myself. At Mrs. Falcon-fucking-bury.

At everything.

“No, I’m not mad at you,” I say honestly. “I’ve just hit the limit on the fucks I can give today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t have the energy to coddle you right now.”

Her jaw drops. “I haven’t asked you to do a damn thing for me.”

Dammit. Don’t take it out on her . “Megan, I’m sorry.”

I start to tell her that I’m sorry for being a dick.

Then I consider that I should probably apologize for her having to deal with Kennedy getting suspended.

That’s followed by the horrible laundry in my bag that will need to be washed, the fallout from this suspension, whatever comes next with that—the fact that I want to grab a shower and fall asleep for three days.

“Your mom is coming home tomorrow,” she says. “Do you know that?”

I still. Shit. I forgot. “Yeah. She told me.” I finish my beer and toss the can in the trash.

“So …” she says.

“So what?”

“So what does this mean? What do you want me to do?” She holds her hands out to her sides. “You said we’d talk about things when you got home.”

“Now’s not the time.”

I stand across the kitchen from Megan and see reality clearly for the first time.

She’s waiting on me to answer. For direction. For my attention. And I don’t have any answers or directions, and my well of attention has officially run dry.

And that’s what does it. That’s the kicker—the one thing I can’t overcome.

If I ask her to stay with us, I’m relegating her to this . It’s a life of chaos and turmoil, of teenage drama. Me being gone. When I come home, being too tired and annoyed to be a good partner.

She didn’t ask for this shit, and she definitely deserves more. She deserves attention. Friendship. The ability to create the life she wants instead of inheriting mine.

But, dammit, if I don’t want to keep her here with me.

“What do you want to do?” I ask her.

“About what?”

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to go home?”

She stills. “What do you want me to do?”

I shake my head and sigh.

I want to ask her to stay. To beg her not to leave me.

Ever. I want to spill my guts and confess that the only time my life has made sense is the last few weeks with her.

But saying all of that will affect her decision.

I know it will because that’s who she is.

If she thinks I need her, she won’t leave … even if it’s the best thing for her.

She nods, licking her lips and blowing out a breath. “I thought … never mind.”

I know what she thought, and I thought it too. But the truth is, we might’ve had a great couple of weeks, but that’s not the real world. Why would she want to be sucked into this with us ?

“Look, Megan, I’ve slept about five hours since I left here the other day.

I have a pile of paperwork to do tomorrow.

I have to talk to Kennedy. I have to call the school, deal with my mom coming home, and who knows what else will happen by morning.

” I frown. “I’m dirty. I’m tired. And … And I don’t know why in the hell you’d want to be a part of this. If I were you, I’d go.”

“But what about the swing? All of that?”

“Do you want to do this, Megan? Really? Do you want this to be your life?” I spin in a circle, holding my arms out to the side. “Do you want to be stuck here raising my kid? Making me dinner? Waiting for me to come home?”

She blinks at me.

“Where will you work? What will you do for fun? How will you have a life here?”

Slowly, a look of sadness mixed with anger slides across her face. Although it kills me, I find some relief in it. If she’s feeling those things, at least she’s not upset.

But also—at least she feels enough for me to care.

Dammit.

“And why are you just thinking about this now?” she asks. “You sure weren’t coming from this angle the other day.”

“Because maybe I see things for the way they really are. Maybe reality just hit, and I’m thinking clearer without you sitting on my lap.”

That’s not fair, and I know it. But I can’t recant it. It might not be reasonable, but it is the truth.

Megan sniffles, her eyes narrowed. “You’re right. We got ahead of ourselves. It was just lust, after all. Don’t you think?”

My heart cracks. I can’t answer that. If I try, I’ll blurt out what I know is the truth— that I love her . And that will really complicate this.

That would be unfair.

She smiles, blinking back what I think are tears. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

Megan gives me a wide berth when she walks toward the hallway.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” I ask, my chest slicing right down the middle. It takes everything in me not to reach out to her. Let her go, Chase .

“Sure.”

I should follow her. I should call out her name and pull her in my arms. But it’s probably better for both of us to just let her go tonight.