Page 48 of Axe Marks the Spot

“Really?” Mandy smirks. “What did—”

I cut her off. “I need to get home, but I’ll see you all later.”

I pull my car keys from my pocket and ignore their chatter, looking out to find Kas before I leave. She’s still standing next to Tyler, but now she’s looking up at Dane, who’s speaking to them. The ten kids are all paying attention, a rare sight to see, completely into whatever Dane is talking about.

I study my daughter’s profile and see her mouth is slightly parted in awe, enough that she could catch bugs in it. I don’t think I’ve seen her look at anyone like that except for maybe the first time she met Fox. And that was because of his sheer height, long hair, and tattoo-covered body.

It doesn’t take a genius to see my kid is already completely taken with her lumberjack instructor. Me, too, Kas.

My attention shifts to Dane one more time, and our eyes meet briefly as his lips curl into a smile. My stomach flips, and that tingly sensation in my body flares to life. Who am I kidding? It hasn’t left in days.

God, I am so screwed.

17

Dane

LEVI DIDN’T MENTION WHEN he asked me to take over that not only would I be teaching ten kids once a week for the next month, but I’d also become a spectacle for parents.

I said they could stay out of courtesy, but I didn’t think they would. I’d given them two free hours of childcare, and the only ones who left were Lindsey—the only person I would have wanted to stay—and a woman named Mandy, who said she’s the sheriff’s wife. The rest stayed, parking themselves at picnic tables and benches.

It puts me on edge, an emotion I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s one thing when you’re being watched anonymously online; it’s another thing entirely when it’s happening in person in real time, especially after spending so much time alone. There goes my anonymity, though I do recognize a few parents I’ve seen from time to time at the store. I just don’t know their names.

“Are you a real lumberjack?” a girl named Moira asks.

“Duh, he won that speed pole climbing competition last weekend. Like for the millionth time, my dad said. He’s a real lumberjack, no cap,” a boy who looks older than the other kids says. I think his name is Max.

“Just because you climb a pole doesn’t mean you’re a logger.” My attention turns to the girl who I’ve learned is Lindsey’s daughter, Kasandra, or Kas, as she told me she likes to go by. My lips twitch at her response to the boy. She has one hand on her hip and rolls her eyes.

I haven’t known Lindsey for long, but even if I hadn’t been told which one was her kid, I would have known right away. Not only do they look like each other with their brown eyes and round faces, but she’s also smart. This isn’t the first time in the last hour that she’s responded to other kids with quick wit and a sass in her tone that reminds me of her mother.

The group of kids giggle at her retort, and my twitching lips turn into a small smile.

“That would be so sus if he wasn’t,” Max adds. “He’s teaching us lumberjack stuff.”

“Logger stuff.”

“Whatever. Don’t be extra, Kas.”

This time, Lindsey’s kid does roll her eyes. “I’m not being extra. My Aunt Morgan says that’s what they’re called now instead of lumberjacks. It’s gender neutral.”

“Then why don’t they call them the Logger Games instead of Lumberjack Games?” Max retorts.

My mind is trying to keep up with their chatter and slang, but one thing I do know is Kas doesn’t have an answer to Max’s question. The spark in her eyes dims, and she frowns.

It doesn’t slip past me that she called Morgan her aunt. Is Lindsey related to Morgan, then? I don’t know much about Morgan’s personal life beyond that she and Fox have added a new man to their dynamic. Maybe Kas is his niece? Which would make him Lindsey’s brother.

I clear the thoughts from my mind that are none of my business and put my fingers between my lips and whistle before a fight breaks out between the kids. The group of them all stand up straight and stop talking, their eyes widening as they give me their attention.

“Kas is correct; we’re called loggers,” I say in a stern tone. “I am a real logger, and the Lumberjack Games are called that because of the history of the games in the town. Though maybe they need an update. Now, do you kids want a history lesson or to continue learning the course?”

The group grumbles out some version of “ew, history” while Kas smirks and sticks her tongue out at Max. Max responds back with the same expression, and I curse Levi again for breaking his goddamn leg and putting me in this situation, a situation I had no idea would potentially fuck up my dynamic with Lindsey. I have hope, however, that she’ll give us a chance to talk it through. I understand her hesitation, even her anger at me for not disclosing that I knew who she was, but she also didn’t tell me she had a kid.

The moment I found out, everything made sense. The long hours she keeps at work, the hardships she faces both personally and financially. How she told me someone in her life depended on her. It wasn’t a boyfriend, husband, friend, or parent—it’s a child. Her child. Who she’s apparently raising alone and with a full-time job. I wish she’d felt comfortable enough to tell me, and it’s bothering me that she didn’t. Even if, logically, I can understand why.

“Logger Dane?”

My eyes shift to Kas, and the kids all giggle at her new name for me. I suppose I walked into that one. “Yes, Kas?”