Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HAYDEN
Rowan’s taillights disappear at the end of the driveway, blinking once before the road curves and swallows her up.
For half a second, I wonder if I overreacted.
Then my chest tightens, the familiar vice grip settling in, and I shove the thought away.
I didn’t overreact. It’s my job to worry about my kids. To make sure nothing happens to them. To keep them safe.
I storm into the kitchen and open the cabinet over the fridge, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. I don’t care that it’s not even three o’clock yet. I need something to ease my frayed nerves, my hands still shaking, panic clawing at my chest.
When I’d repeatedly called Rowan and she never answered, I immediately went back there. To that moment. To the hospital hallway that smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee. Watching a nurse wheel my daughter past me on a stretcher, her face scraped raw, her arm strapped into a makeshift sling.
I’m her father. An emergency room doctor.
Yet I’d never felt so damn helpless.
Useless.
Terrified.
I swore I’d never feel that way again. Swore I’d do everything in my power to keep Jemmy and Presley safe.
They’re all I have left, and the mere idea of something happening to either of them claws at me.
So no. I don’t think I was out of line.
I pour several fingers into a glass and bring it up to my mouth, taking a large swallow. Alcohol isn’t the best coping mechanism, but I need it right now. Need to feel something other than…whatever this is.
As I slam back another large gulp, downing the remainder of the whiskey, the front door opens.
I return the bottle to the cabinet and head toward the foyer. But when Presley sees it’s me instead of Rowan, her smile falters.
“Where’s Rowan?” my mother asks from behind her.
“Why didn’t Beckham or Haley pick up Presley?”
“Beckham couldn’t get away from the vineyard, and Haley had to deliver a cake. Where’s Rowan?” she presses again.
I part my lips, searching for the words I need. It’s not the first time my mother’s dropped Presley off from school to learn I’ve fired the nanny.
But this one feels different.
It shouldn’t.
She wasn’t in our lives for that long.
But she still managed to leave an impression. On Jemmy. On Presley.
And on me.
“Why don’t you go grab a snack?” I say to Presley, hoping my mom will have some wise words to help me break the news to my kids.
But my daughter doesn’t budge. Instead, she drops her backpack to the floor with a thud and crosses her arms tight over her stomach.
“Presley,” I warn, an edge in my voice.
She still doesn’t move.
Stubborn like her mother.
And me.
I blow out a breath and look at my mom. “It didn’t work out. She left.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “And whose decision was that?”
I steal a glance at Presley in time to see her eyes fill with tears. It twists something sharp in my chest. Makes it harder to admit what I’m about to.
“Mine.”
The word barely leaves my mouth before Presley’s tears spill over. Anger flashes across her expression, and she turns and storms up the stairs.
“Presley,” I whisper-shout after her, her stomping feet echoing in the house. “Quiet. Your brother’s napping.”
She doesn’t care. Her footsteps pound down the hallway, her bedroom door slamming hard enough that the walls seem to rattle.
I freeze, praying Jemmy sleeps through it.
Then the monitor crackles.
And he cries.
“Great,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face.
“That’s karma,” my mom says dryly.
“For what?” I ask, already heading for the stairs.
She follows close behind. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t fired Rowan. I thought she was doing well. The kids like her. Especially Presley.”
I shake my head, but don’t argue as I step into Jemmy’s room.
He’s standing up in his crib, his cheeks flushed, tears streaking down his face. I scoop him up, his small body warm and shaking against mine.
“Hey, Jemmy,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Did the loud bang scare you?”
He nods, burying his face in my shoulder.
“It’s okay. I’m here now.”
He pulls back, sniffling. “Ro-Ro.”
“I’m sorry, bud. But she won’t be playing with you anymore.”
His lower lip trembles as he sobs Rowan’s name.
My mom appears in the doorway, arms folded. “Looks like you’ve got yourself in a pickle. Want to explain why you fired the one nanny your kids actually liked? Hell, the one nanny who actually seemed to like your kids.”
“I already told you…” I carry Jemmy over to the changing table. “It didn’t work out.”
“Why?”
I toss the dirty diaper into the bin and use a wipe to clean him. “She took Jemmy to the library this morning and was supposed to text as soon as they got home. She didn’t.”
I leave out the part that she did text, but I never received it.
“When I called her, she didn’t answer,” I continue, dressing Jemmy in a t-shirt and pair of pants. “All I could think was that something happened. Thought I lost him too.” I lift my son into my arms, holding him close, inhaling his fresh baby scent.
My mom’s expression softens, and she steps closer, resting a hand on my arm. “You can’t go there every time someone doesn’t answer the phone. Jemmy’s fine.” She pinches his cheek, and he giggles. “Aren’t you, little man?”
He reaches for my mom, and I allow her to take him, grateful he has at least one grandparent who showers him with love and affection.
“But what if he wasn’t?”
“I get it,” she sighs, arranging Jemmy on her hip as she heads out of his room. I follow her back downstairs. “I worried about you kids every day of my life. I still do. But sometimes, your protectiveness crosses into something else.”
She steps off the stairs and into the living room, setting Jemmy down on the mat with his collection of dinosaurs. Then she faces me, dropping her voice.
“Did Rowan explain why she didn’t text?”
I wince. “Technically, she did, and the message failed to send. But she should have made sure it sent. And then she ignored all my calls and texts. Left her cell in the living room while she was cleaning, I guess.”
Mom gives me a pointed look. “Do you think maybe you overreacted a bit?”
“There’s no such thing when it comes to my kids.”
“But is it worth it? Presley’s been happier lately. Her teachers have noticed it, too. She’s opening up again. Has even been playing with kids at recess instead of keeping to herself.”
This information lands harder than I expected. “She has?”
Since we moved here, Presley’s been shy. Reserved. Keeps to herself. I’ve sent her to therapy in the hopes she’d eventually come out of her shell, but nothing has worked.
Until Rowan entered our lives.
“I understand why you were concerned,” Mom begins, “but you need to look at the big picture.”
“This big picture?”
She nods. “As a parent, every decision you make is with one thing in mind.”
“The best interests of the kids.”
“Exactly. Based on what I’ve seen, having Rowan in their lives is definitely in their best interests.
She made a mistake, one I bet she won’t make again.
Don’t deprive your kids of a positive influence because you’re bullheaded and stubborn.
” She holds my gaze for a beat, then her lips quirk up into a smile.
“Plus, if you want Presley to forgive you anytime soon, I’d apologize, beg Rowan to come back, and offer her a raise. ”
“A raise?”
“Hazard pay for dealing with you.” She winks, then pushes me toward the front door. “I’ve got the kids. Now go.”
Before I know it, I’m being handed my keys and kicked out of my own home by my mom. I’m not sure I ever agreed to do this, but I don’t have a choice now. Not if I don’t want my kids to despise me for the foreseeable future.
I slide into my car, trying to figure out how to fix this. I start by trying to call Rowan, but it goes to voicemail after one ring, making me think she purposefully ignored my call.
I could stop here. Say I tried.
But Presley’s expression replays in my mind. The way Jemmy called for Ro-Ro. The way Rowan brought light back into this house without even trying.
So I crank the ignition and drive away, praying it’s not too late.