Chapter 48 Brighton
Daisy sits next to me in the truck, half awake and scrolling through her phone as something plays over her headphones, and I sit with the music softer in the cab.
It’s one of Rhea’s playlists, and I won’t admit it to her, but I love every song on it.
They’re all stringy guitars and no drums, but there’s still so much feeling in them.
I hate that she’s so easily able to change all of my habits.
Infuriating.
I pull up the trail and put the truck in park in the small, dirt parking lot before I offload the canoe and get it set up in the water.
Daisy carries down the box and hands it to me with a little grumbly sigh as she realizes the service is crap this far from the city.
I wish I could say it’s an accident, but it's really just a way to get her to talk to me without the buffer of the screen between us.
It takes us a second, and she argues about what side she wants to sit on, but once we’re on the water, I row us to the middle of the lake and stow the paddle inside.
“Dad.” Daisy squints at me from across the canoe. “I just want you to know I hate fishing more than I hate when Mom hosts study parties for every test I have.”
I stifle the laugh that forms in the base of my throat; of course, Riona throws parties around studying.
“Seriously, if this is some sick plan to teach me discipline, or… I don’t know, patience. It’s not going to work.” She crosses her arms.
“I didn’t bring you out here to fish, Squish.” I set the pole between my legs as the sun starts to come up over the trees.
“Okay, well…” she shrugs, pointing to the fishing rod with a scowl on her face that I can’t even get mad at because I gave it to her. “It’s five am on a Saturday, and if you didn’t bring me out here to fish, what are we doing?”
“You brought your book?” I ask her, my eyes drifting to the bag between her feet. I know she did, I watch her put the ratty sketch journal in there every morning before school. She nods, “Take it out, I’ll fish, you draw.”
Daisy studies my expression for a long moment before tucking a chunk of her unruly blonde hair behind her ear and doing what she’s told. She balances the book on her lap alongside the container of pencils she has.
“Fish aren’t really my area of inspiration,” she admits.
“Not the fish, Daisy.” I laugh, and the canoe rumbles beneath us. “Just look around you, find something. Birds, trees, wildlife, flowers,” I give her plenty of examples, and she starts to get the idea. “Look,” I direct her eye line to the shore where a doe steps out of the tree line with her fawn.
“Wow,” Daisy whispers, her fingers gently moving the pages without taking her eyes off the deer. “Okay, that’s cool, you win,” she mumbles. “This time,” she adds quietly, and the scratch of her pencils fills the air, tangling with the soft ripples of the water.
I don’t even like fishing. But I don’t tell her that.
There’s something methodical about it; cast it out, reel it in.
I actually don’t even really like the taste of fish.
But I needed the quiet, and it’s been too long since Daisy, and I just did something together.
Sometimes I stare at her and can’t figure out where the time has gone.
I remember when she was barely able to stand; her diaper was always lopsided, matching that big, goofy, toothless smile.
Riona used to pull her hair into these tiny little pig tails that were all thin curls and stuck off the top of her head.
Now she’s a teenager.
Her hair falls in her face as she keeps one eye on the deer and the other on her book.
She kept that goofy smile, even though I don’t get to see it as much anymore, but she has gained so much more.
She’s her own personality now, and some days it feels like I missed her figuring out what that looks like.
The guilt is violent. The scales feel unbalanced.
You left so you could give her this, versus you left.
It’s hard to explain to your toddler why you’re leaving, rationalizing abandonment for the betterment of her life.
It wouldn’t have made sense to her; it barely makes sense to her now.
Riona and I were two halves of a whole once.
An unshakeable team. If you told twenty-year-old me that Riona Cody couldn’t even look at me anymore, I’d scorch the earth to prove you wrong.
But I’d left with my half, promising to return it to her—then it came home in a coffin.
Nothing but ash. And not even Riona could fix that.
“You know your mom deserves a little more credit, even if she is a nerd,” I huff, and Daisy’s brows pinch together as a tiny smile forms on her lips, but she doesn’t look up from her book as I reel in air on the line. Again.
“I dare you to say that to her face,” Daisy snorts.
“I’ve called your mom a nerd to her face.”
Daisy looks up at me with a raised brow.
“Okay, maybe not to her face,” I backtrack. “But I’m serious, lame study parties aside. She’s done all she can to make sure you have everything you need.”
She continues to stare at me, obviously suspicious of the conversation.
“Are you sick?” She blurts the question.
“No,” I grumble with a chuckle. “But you’re proving my point,” I say. “That attitude you have is all your mom. It’s going to come in handy later in life, just quit aiming it at me.”
“Mom’s too strict.” Daisy rolls her eyes.
“She’s just trying to make sure you stay on track, with school and your responsibilities.” I say, “It’s important.”
“She could ease up a little,” Daisy grunts.
“If you say this behind her back, what the hell are you saying about me?” I laugh in disbelief.
“You’re always late for meetings, you hover like I’m going to be kidnapped right in front of you, and you get angry over nothing…” she says without hesitation.
“Fair,” I sigh. “I don’t hover…”
“You do.” Daisy shakes her head, “Everyone is afraid of you and Mom. That’s why Auggie won’t come over,” she confesses.
“You were going to bring him over?” I stop her, ignoring the first bit.
“Yeah, but you scare him,” she scoffs.
“Me? Your mom is way scarier…” I groan.
“Yeah, but she’s friends with Dr. Shore, and that’s Auggie’s Dad, or step-dad, I guess...” She shrugs and goes back to her sketch.
I cock my head to the side. Is it now…
Silas Shore is a cockroach. A year before Daisy was born, Silas Shore bulldozed into our lives a fucking frat party and it seems like no matter what I do, I can't get rid of him.
He was always there, haunting me, on the back of Riona's mind.
A living, breathing what-if that never seemed to let it go.
The universe is cruel and Daisy having a crush on his son is a joke.
“Right,” I nod, looking out over the water. These Hornets are starting to get on my fucking nerves. “Well, what if Auggie brings over his Mom and step-dad for dinner. Uncle B can cook whatever you want.”
Daisy looks back up at me. “Really?”
“Yeah, Sunny and Kaia can come too if you want,” I suggest.
“What about C?” she pushes. My hand flexes around the fishing pole, the words hell no on my lips, but she stares at me with those big green eyes and quietly waits for me to say yes.
“If you want him there, he can come.” I grind out. And I can always choke him out in the service closet downstairs, where no one will ever find his body.
“Okay,” she agrees. “Will Rhea be there?” She asks.
“Sure,” I say, knowing that it’ll cause trouble. But if I have to deal with that blond fuckhead, then I’ll need backup.