22. Theo
Theo
CHIROPRACTIC CARE
Monday
As I worked on my client, May, my eyes kept straying back to the time.
It was nine in the morning. Mia was probably already here, waiting in the reception area.
Any minute now, Mike would step out, usher her into his office, and lay her down on his table.
He’d run his hands along her back, talk her through her stretches, and–
“That’s a little tight,” May grunted.
I nodded and let her foot go.
“You all right over there? You look like you want to murder someone.”
I tried to laugh, but it came out as a grunt. “Why do people keep saying that?”
“Because… you look like you want to murder someone.”
Well… fine, I got the point, and it was hard to argue with her. Maybe Mia was right. Maybe I did come off as a bit of an asshole. But it was hard to turn my mood around when all I could think about was another man’s hands on her.
“Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”
“Oh, that’s fine. If you want to talk about it–”
“No,” I cut her off. “I’m good. I’d rather focus on you.”
She lifted her head and grinned. “Well, I’m free tomorrow night.”
I laughed off May’s flirting, finished her routine, and saw her out. As we stepped outside, I searched the waiting area, and didn’t have to search for long. Mia followed Mike down the hallway, wearing one of her thin, loose-fitting dresses.
It only lasted a few seconds. Her cheeks flushed as she met my stare, and she lifted her brows like she didn’t expect me to be there. But then she turned the corner and disappeared.
I wanted to go after her. I wanted to be the one to take care of her. The thought of Mike’s hands sliding along her spine was enough to make me grind my teeth.
But there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Mia wasn’t mine. I took a breath, pushed this frustration down, then greeted my next client.
Monday Evening
“Hey, Dad.” Kira walked into the practice, letting the door shut softly behind her as she looked around. “Aunt Rochelle isn’t here?”
I sat back in Mario’s chair, relieved. The day was over, and my daughter was good at stealing my focus. And after picturing Mia on Mike’s table for the last twenty minutes, I needed that.
I felt raw and out of control, and it was new to me. I’d never wanted to go out of my way to spend time with someone who wasn’t my daughter before. I’d never felt excited or nervous, as if I could burst out of my skin, like this before.
I’d never felt jealous before.
I didn’t like it. And I didn’t know how to handle it.
“She’s meeting us for dinner.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Kira looked around, fidgeting. I might’ve been preoccupied lately, but it didn’t take a genius to read Kira’s nervous expression.
“You wanted to talk to her about something.”
She met my eyes, then looked away. “Nothing important.”
I didn’t buy it.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
I felt a pang, but pushed it aside. Kira was a young woman, almost an adult, and there would be things she wouldn’t want to share with her father. I knew that.
But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. Sometimes, I wished she was still an excited six-year-old, running into my office, waving her latest drawing in my face as she told me about her day. I’d give anything to have that again.
I was lucky as it was that she told me about Miles.
“Is it about your period?”
She was horrified. “Ew, Dad!”
“I know about periods, Kira. Between your mother and aunt, I can–”
“Dad, please,” she begged. “Stop.”
“Did you run out of painkillers?”
“No–please stop, it isn’t about that.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Kira.”
“Dad.” She gave me a stern look that could’ve been straight from Tash’s playbook, and it made me smile. I had to respect that.
“Is it about the program?”
Kira slid her backpack off and slung it onto a nearby chair. “I’m so glad I don’t have to sit through that class until Friday.”
I frowned. That was a surprise. Kira usually had nothing but great things to say about her class.
“Did something happen?”
She didn’t look at me as she shook her head. “I’m just over all the work we have to do.”
Since when?
Once we managed to get that viral book swapped for another, Kira had written essay after essay. She was determined to catch up, and she seemed to enjoy it. Hearing her complain like this felt out of place.
“What do you have to do this week?” I asked.
“An essay on the dangers of generational romantic restraints.”
“Ah.” She’d usually be all over a topic like this. “So you’ll probably get another A?”
She scoffed. “Probably. And then I’ll get tortured because of it.”
Her voice trailed off, but I caught the last part and stood. “What do you mean, ‘tortured’?”
She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “It’s nothing.”
“Kira, what’s going on?”
“Nothing!”
I rounded the desk. “You can talk to me. You know that.”
She twisted her lips, like she was tasting the words in her mouth, weighing them. Then she spat them out. “I don’t like it here, Dad.”
I let her words settle and watched her expression shift as I replayed the last few weeks in my head. She seemed okay. She had the play, her castmates. That Miles kid. She and Rochelle were closer than ever. What changed?
“I want to go back.” Back to Oakhaven.
We couldn’t go back there. Not now. Not after losing Tash the way we did. Not after the promise I made to her. I wouldn’t go back and risk finding my daughter under her bed, having a panic attack.
“Kira, we can’t. Not now.”
“I know Mom wanted me to do this, but I don’t think I can.”
She blinked fast, her eyes filling with tears. I tried to wrap my arms around her, but she shifted out of reach.
“She wanted you to be happy, Kira, and you have been. I know–”
“I hate it, Dad,” she blurted. “Miles is the only person who’s actually nice to me.”
This made me pause. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she bit out, “that everyone else here is an asshole. And I want to go home.”
I ignored her language and spoke softly. Angry demands wouldn’t work on her, and I needed answers. I needed to know how long she had been feeling like this.
“But you have friends here, and I don’t just mean Miles. You’ve got Amber and Natasha. They’re your friends, aren’t they?”
She kept her arms crossed as she said, “Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Miss Walker gave me a good grade on one of my papers, and Amber said it’s only because I’m–”
She broke off.
“Because you’re what?” I prompted. She hesitated. “Kira, I need to know what she said.”
“Sleeping with Miles. She thinks he’s helping me cheat.” She winced and scraped her teeth across her tongue, like she wanted to wash her mouth out.
I forced in a breath, but it didn’t help. My vision was stained red. “That fucking little–”
“Don’t say anything.” She wrapped her small hand around my wrist. “Please, Dad. It’ll only make things worse.”
“I have to say something.”
“No,” she begged. “It won’t make her stop.”
My voicemail ringtone buzzed as I said, “Kira, I’m not going to let anyone get away with saying shit like that to you.”
I gave her a look, the one I used to let her know there’d be no arguing with me. Her face crumbled as she dropped into a chair.
I picked up my phone, my hands shaking with so much fucking rage, and, without looking at the screen, listened to the recording.
“Mr Hudson, this is Miss Fares calling. Kira’s teacher, Miss Walker, has reported some–”
“–if they think this is–”
“–unwelcome behavior in the classroom–”
“–It’s not okay–”
“–if you could arrange a time to see us, that would be great.”
I was breathing hard, my grip tight around my phone, and I could barely see straight. I had to listen to the message again just to get it to sink in.
And then I listened to the recording a third time and caught an unmistakable British accent in the background. The tension in my shoulders eased, the knot in my chest loosened.
It looked like I didn’t have to say anything about my daughter’s bully.
Mia did that for me.