Page 60 of Freefall

“Want me to take you to your classroom?” he asks.

She wrinkles her nose. “I’m in second grade!”

He glances at me.

“She’s okay,” I tell him. “The teachers are usually at the front when the kids walk in.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but then I see TJ crossing the parking lot toward his truck and my stomach knots. He texted last night to ask where I disappeared to, but I never responded. I can’t seem to find the words to explain what happened in that cafeteria. Which leads me to the next thing I blurt out as soon as we say goodbye to Daisy and she skips toward the building.

“We should talk.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Nate says. “You didn’t tell me the doors stick. And why is the heat not working? Have you at least brought it in to have it checked out?”

“Not about my car, Nate. About last night.”

“Oh. You want a repeat? Because you’re definitely heading in that direction.”

“Is that what you meant?” The words come out quieter than I intend. “When you said you weren’t done?”

After he dropped that particular bomb last night, I climbed silently out of his car, but the words replayed in my head all night.

I think it means I’m not done with you.

I turned them over from every angle, searching for some version that didn’t end badly, but there wasn’t one. No matter how I dressed it up, no matter how amazing it felt, getting physical with my daughter’s estranged father was an epically bad idea.

Daisy comes first. She always will, and I can’t risk blurring the lines. Not when she still has no idea who Nate really is.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. He doesn’t answer my question. He just watches me as I think myself into circles.

“Are you finished?” he finally says.

I blink. “With what?”

“Talking yourself out of what you really want.”

“Nate…”

“You needed it.” His voice is calm but stern. “Last night. You needed it as much as I did. I knew it the second you got in my car.”

I swallow. “Maybe. But it can’t happen again.”

“Why?” The word is hot and demanding, sending a familiar ache between my legs, but I do my best to ignore it.

“Because this…” I gesture between us. “is already messy. Anything else will make it worse, and you know it.”

“Harper.” He takes a step toward me, but I lift my hand before he gets any closer, and he freezes.

“You don’t get it.”

Frustration builds behind his eyes, and he drags a hand through his hair. “Then explain it to me.”

I open my mouth to do exactly that when my phone starts vibrating in my purse. My stomach drops when I see Emberfield Elementary on the screen.

“Hello? Is everything⁠—”

“Daisy is fine,” a gentle voice assures me. “This is Ms. Dawson, by the way. I’m with Daisy in the main office. There was…”

Seriously? She chooses this moment to pause?