“No, but all the great ’80s flicks are full of curses. RememberGoonies?”
“Vaguely—another classic, though.”
“Agreed.” They fell into contemplative silence for a moment.
“The Three Amigos.” Ben snapped his fingers. “I don’t remember a lot of swearing in that one.”
“Mom!” screamed a kid standing next to the car in front of them. “Open the BLEEPEDY BLEEP BLEEP door.”
Ben and Quin exchanged a look full ofif we had talked to MOM like that…
“Remind me why I’m trying to find a movie without curse words when my daughter has that walking down the hall at school.”
Quin opened and closed his mouth. “Umm … Because you want to protect her innocence?”
Ben groaned. “I can’t even think about the world my daughter’s growing up in without seriously freaking out.”
“Come on. Mom said the same thing when we were young. We turned out okay.”
Ben snorted.
“Okay-ish.” Quin sniffed. “We’re not serial killers.”
“Well, there is that.” The bell rang, and Ben pushed the goggles back to Quin. “She’s coming.” An invisible hand gripped his chest as he waited on bated breath. His first sight of Savannah would tell him all he needed to know about her day.
A rush of kids flooded the sidewalk, teachers busy calling names for the kids to jump into the cars in the front of the line. Kids joked and shoved, only half paying attention. The line crept forward.
“There.” Quin pointed out the windshield.
Savannah wore her backpack on one shoulder, her back slumped and her arms hugging her chest. Her chin was down as if she was begging the heavens to make her invisible.
“Come on,” he said under his breath. “Lift your chin.”
As if she’d heard his voice in her head, Savannah looked up, right at the car. Her posture didn’t straighten, but she changed direction. A teacher opened the door for her, and she slid into the seat facing him and Quin. “Hey, Dad, Uncle Quin.” A grin split her face, and Ben exhaled for the first time since she’d stepped out of the building.
“Hey, Loop.” Quin used his nickname for Savannah. A loop was an element on a coaster that sent riders vertical, turned them over, and deposited them right side up. That pretty much explained what Savannah’s arrival had done for Quin—thinkThree Men and a Baby. He’d lobbied forLoopto be her official name when he and Ben had driven her home from the hospital. Thank the good Lord above that Quin wasn’t in charge of filling out the birth certificate.
Ben tugged Savannah across the space and into his arms, where no harm could ever befall her and no one would ever make her cry. “How was school?” He pressed a kiss to her hair and then surrendered her to Quin, who hugged her just as fiercely.
She settled back into the seat between them, her eyes full of light that stems from the knowledge that you are loved and adored. If he could bottle that feeling and sell it, he’d be a gazillionaire. Forget that—if the potion would save any child from looking the way Savannah had when she’d walked out of school, he’d give it away. And he’d be a hero to parents everywhere.
“Uniforms aresostupid.” She folded her arms and lifted her chin, daring either of them to disagree. The lightning in her eyes said she had four counterarguments ready.
“Agreed.” Ben defused the bomb, wishing others were that easy. He’d taken a bold step moving to The Cove. There was no neighborhood like the one Adam Moreau dreamed up; with the finest security team working the private sector, he could sleep without one ear listening for an intruder in the house come to ransom his daughter. He could handle the threats against his own life, but threats against his daughter brought a cold sweat to his brow.
“If you agree, why did you pick a school that has uniforms?” She flung her arms to her sides as she sank against the seat, the weight of his decision too much for her to bear any longer. She was getting good at preteen drama.
“Because they’re the best. And my girl deserves the best.” And the kids were from the same income level. Most of them, anyway—some won scholarships to attend. These people would be her peers in the adult world too. Making contacts could never start too young. His neighbor, Jetton Bolt, had suggested this school, and he’d been impressed with the tour, the extracurricular opportunities for the upperclassmen, and the administration.
She flopped herself to the door and stared out. “There’s a class trip in two weekends. They need chaperones.”
“That’s your weekend with your mom.”
“I told them; they were fine. It sounded fun, though. They’re hiking, collecting samples for nature journals, taking pictures … There’s a picnic.”
“It does sound fun.” And it would be a good introduction to Washington for the both of them. He wished his ex, Grace, was flexible, but when she picked a weekend, she expected them to make it happen. If she got busy? Well, that was another story completely.
“They’re having a carnival this week—it’s a fundraiser for the trip. We’re supposed to be there.”
