“This is your daughter?”
Forcing any and all emotion down, I lift my gaze to meet Savvy’s impenetrable one. I don’t even attempt to try and read what she’s hiding behind that stony expression.
“Yes. Tatum Colter,” I volunteer. “Fourteen, and skipping what I believe is Social Studies.”
A barely-there flare of her nostrils is her only reaction when she turns to the boy who was sitting with my daughter.
“Carson, I suggest you stay right where you are while I walk Tatum and her father out. But you better start coming up with a very good explanation for your father, because I’ll be speaking to him next.”
Keeping hold of my daughter’s hand, I walk her out of the coffeeshop, several pairs of eyes following us. I’d hoped to lay low, have a chance at showing myself a responsible adult and parent—at least to those who might remember me differently—before any of my past could reflect on my daughter, but I guess it’s already too late for that. I’m sure that little scene back there will make the rounds before dinnertime.
Tate is quiet until I pull open the truck’s passenger door for her.
“We were just talking,” she whispers.
“He’s a teenage boy; trust me, talking is not what he’s after,” I grind out, closing the door on her.
A voice sounds behind me. “If that were the case, I’m sure he’d have found a better place than the local coffee shop.”
Right, I’d almost forgotten Savvy indicated she’d follow us out.
I brace myself before I turn to look at her. It appears she’s had a moment to get over the shock of seeing me and some warmth has returned to her expression.
“He’s too old for her,” I argue.
“By only a couple of years,” Savvy returns with a pointed look. “They’re both in high school.”
Message received. I’d been a high school dropout and was apprenticing with my uncle who was a carpenter when I first met Savvy. Even though we’d been older, she’d been only seventeen to my twenty-four, but I didn’t care. Neither did she, at the time.
Her father sure did though.
Fuck me. I rub a hand over my stubble at the unexpected sense of kinship with her dad.
“Look,” she urges, “Carson is a good kid. He’s been struggling a bit since his mother died and may not always make the best decisions, but he wouldn’t hurt her.”
I grunt in response. There are more ways than one to put the hurt on my girl, but learning the kid lost his mom, it’s clear he has at least something in common with my daughter.
“So…” Savvy drawls, her thumbs hooked in her belt and her feet spread. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you back in Silence.”
I shrug. “I didn’t either, but you know what they say; life is what happens when you make other plans.”
