Page 36 of Kiss Me Forever

“Damn,” Denver whispered.

“You’re not alone, son. We’re with you.” My dad hugged me tightly, and while I wanted his words to be true, I wasn’t sure. Because in the end, it felt like I was standing in an abyss, trying to reach for my kid, for a future that had once seemed so sure and was now clouded with uncertainty. Because I didn’t know what would happen if I failed at this, but I’d try my hardest not to disappoint her.

And with that certainty, I moved to the backyard, my brother and father behind me, and went to join the family.

Because my kid was just as lost as I was.

And I knew somehow we had to be found.

By the time we got home, Bella was bouncing in her seat, on a little sugar-high, but seemingly happy.

“And they said I could come by the fire station. I can’t believe that they get to go down the pole and everything. It’s so cool.”

“You do realize I used to be a firefighter too, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re still firefighters.”

My lips twitched. “Once again, shoved to the side for my brothers.”

“I bet you get a complex, don’t you? Is that a sibling thing?”

“Look at you with the big words.”

“I’m twelve, Reece.” She rolled her eyes so hard I was afraid they were going to roll to the back of her head.

“I’m sorry, ancient woman.”

“At my next birthday, I’m going to be a teenager and that’s when everything changes. At least that’s what my friends say. Do you remember being thirteen back when you would chisel words onto stone?”

“I want you to make that old joke around my mother. I dare you.”

Her eyes widened. “Ms. Kathy’s nice.”

“Yes, she is.”

We pulled into the garage, and Bella jumped out of the truck without another word. Her mood had darkened with each mile, and I had no idea why. The wild shift in moods made me go over everything we’d said as if I’d triggered something inadvertently. Something was going on in that head of hers, and I needed to figure it out.

“Bella, are you okay?” I asked, but she ignored me, went to her room, and slammed the door.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I told myself to calm down.

Well, she was one day closer to being a teenager, and I needed to figure this fucking shit out.

“Bella.”

“What?” she snapped through the door.

I opened it without knocking, and she glared at me.

“I thought a closed door meant you had to knock. This is my room.”

“And you don’t get to slam the door. What is going on with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“That’s what you say, but you just slammed the door, and suddenly you’re angry with me? I thought we had a good dinner. You liked my brothers and hanging out with my parents. They’re your family too.”

As her gaze narrowed, I realized that was probably the worst thing I could have said in that moment.