Justin.
Haley’s dad.
Her deadbeat dad who I haven’t heard from in years.
Her dad—although, can I really call him that?—who dumped me unceremoniously as soon as I told him I was pregnant, proclaiming that he wasn’t interested in being a parent and if I was going to insist on keeping the baby, I’d be doing it on my own.
Anger flares hot as I read his message.
Hey, Ang. Sorry I haven’t been in touch in so long. Can we talk? I’m back in the area, so we could meet. Or if you’d rather, I can call.
I squeeze the phone hard enough for the edges to bite into my palm. My jaw tightens to the point of pain.
Sorry he hasn’t beenin touch?
Can wetalk?
When Haley was little, I gave him every chance to have a relationship with her. I sent him photos, updates, and offered for him to meet her. I didn’t even press for child support, though I had every right to, because I wanted to keep things civil.
Well, and he was broke. Unemployed. Pissing away the little money he had on alcohol, from what I heard. So it wasn’t like there was anything for him to give me, anyway.
Haley and I were fine on our own, I assured myself. We had my mom to help. We had a place to live. I had a job with employers who’d give me an advance on my paycheck if I needed it, and never gave me a hard time if I had to call out last minute.
We’ve beenfine.
For nine years—no, nearly ten, if I’m counting being eighteen and pregnant and scared to death of having a baby on my own—Haley and I have been just fine.
And now Justin wants totalk?
I glare at the phone so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t burst into flames. I’m sorely tempted to fling it into the snow, but reality reminds me that I can’t afford to buy a replacement.
“Mom!” At the sound of Haley’s voice—fainter this time—I tear my gaze from the phone and look in her direction. She’s at the top of the slope now, with Ronan hovering close beside her. “I’m going down!” she calls. “My first time!”
Forcing back my anger, I smile and wave as I call back, “You’re going to do great, Hale!”
Just as I’m about to open the photo app to take a video of Haley’s first descent, because there’s nowayI’m letting Justin ruin this, my phone buzzes with another text.
Adrenaline surges. Is he seriously texting me again? What does he think? I’m just going to drop everything to respond to him after?—
But it’s not from Justin. The text is from Ronan.
Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to her. She’s doing great.
Then he sends another message.
You look really pretty today. I didn’t want to say it before. But you do.
Oh.
My heart goes all mushy.
Maybe I reallydidfind a good one this time.
“Areyou sure you don’t want anything else to eat?”
Ronan nods at my basket of fries. “That’s not really a lunch,” he adds. “It’s more of a snack.” Then he angles his chin at histray, which contains a half-eaten burger, an order of fries, and a plate of chicken tenders. “Thisis lunch.”
“But you worked up an appetite,” I reply. “With all the skiing. All I did was stand around and take pictures.”
