“Neve,” I say, ignoring Megan’s stare, “pretend you have manners, okay?”
“Sure thing, boss. Moving on, I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”
“You know—I’m not, really.”I just wish you’d leave.
Neve sighs. “I’ll cut to the chase. No pun intended.” She giggles at her joke. “Can Kennedy please, please, please come over today?’
“Please, Dad?”
“Mom said she’ll bring her home tonight—whenever you want,” Neve promises. “And we’ll be on time because I know you got a little upset when we were, like, five minutes late last time.”
I snort. “Five minutes, Neve? Are we just lying outright now, or what?”
“Fine. Thirty-five or whatever it was.”
“It was forty-five, and none of you, including your mother, answered your phones.”
Megan grimaces.
“Do you have any fun facts about tardiness?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “Don’t pull me into this one. You’re handling it fine on your own.”
“Oh, come on,” Kennedy says. “Where’s the girl bond now?”
“Are you girl bonding with someone besides me?” Neve asks, gasping. “I’m shocked.”
Megan laughs. “I just knew that math killed someone once. I’m not here to steal your best friend, Neve. Relax.”
She stands tall. “I would hope not. We’ve been through it together.”
“Been through it? Through what?” I ask. “You’re fourteen.”
“Can we not point out how old I am for the fourteen hundredth time this week?” Kennedy fake cries. “Will this stop when I’m fifteen, or will you just change the language?”
Megan lifts a finger. “Okay, I’m going to chime in here. She has a point, Chase.”
“Whose side are you on?” I ask, dropping my jaw.
Her smile could defuse a bomb. “No sides. I’m on a balcony over here as an unbiased third party.”
I intend on flipping my attention back on the girls. There’s still a battle to be fought, after all. But the rosiness in Megan’s cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes—the hint of debauchery hidden in her sweet grin—distracts me.
Focus, Chase. Don’t go there.
I clear my throat.
Megan turns away. “What are you two wanting to do this afternoon? What do teenagers do for fun in Peachwood Falls?”
“Nothing,” Neve says, wrinkling her nose. “There’s nothing to do in Peachwood Falls.”
“We’ll probably just hang out.We won’t be making videos,” Kennedy says, side-eyeing me. “We might … do our nails. Who knows?”
I fire Kennedy a warning glare to remind her I wasn’t playing. If she makes any more half-clothed videos for social media, she’ll not have a phone until she moves out of this house.
A horn beeps in the distance.
“Fine,” I say, giving in. “Go. Be home before six.”
