Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
KANE
As soon as Timber walks away with Hailey, I set some boundaries with Amanda. Her expression is smug, and it grates on me.
“Since there’s no other place to stay, you can stay here for now, but as soon as there’s another option, you need to take it. This is not a permanent solution.”
“But I always stay here,” she counters, her voice laced with entitlement.
“That was before Timber. This isn’t your home,” I say firmly, my gaze hardening as I make it clear I won't tolerate her attempts to manipulate the situation.
I walk away, needing a moment to clear my head. I find Timber reading a book to Hailey and I tell her I’ll be in the chicken coop. I head there, a place where life’s only concerns are pecking and preening. I unlatch the door and step inside, greeted by the familiar clucking and fluttering of the chickens .
I run my hand through my hair. “How did it come to this?” Before, when Amanda showed up, it was just a thing. She was here and she was gone. It didn’t matter to me, but this time it matters because it affects Timber.
The chickens scatter as I move toward the feeder, filling it with grain. The rhythmic action brings a semblance of calm, but my mind remains restless. What if Timber decides she can’t wait any longer? The thought of losing her to the uncertainty I’ve imposed is unbearable.
“Alright, ladies,” I say, leaning against the wooden frame, watching them scurry about. “I’ve got a serious question for you.” They continue their pecking, oblivious to my human problems. “What do you do when your past decides to barge in uninvited, threatening everything you’ve started to build?” I chuckle, despite the bitterness of the situation. “Not much for advice, huh?”
I watch a hen chase a stray bug across the coop. “You've got it easy,” I tell them. “No exes, no emotional turmoil—just bugs and feed.” Their simple existence makes me envy them, if just for a moment.
Lost in my thoughts, I barely catch the soft sound of footsteps approaching until I turn to see Timber standing at the entrance.
“Hey,” she calls out, stepping closer. “Hailey is watching TV with Amanda.” She looks at the chickens. “Do they give good advice?”
“The best,” I answer. “They recommend more pecking and less thinking. ”
As Timber comes closer, I break the news. “It's only for a week or so, and then she's out of here.” I paint a clear end to the upheaval. “Honestly, she probably won't last that long.” Amanda's impulsive nature and our strained history suggest she might cut her visit short once the novelty wears off and the reality of daily life sets in.
Timber looks at me with a mix of hope and skepticism. “You really think so?” she asks.
“Yeah, I do,” I affirm, squeezing her shoulders gently. “Amanda’s never been one for sticking things out, especially not when they get uncomfortable. And it’s going to get uncomfortable if she keeps trying to stir things up.”
Timber nods, her expression brightening as she considers my words. “Then we just need to hold on for a bit, weather the storm together.” Her use of our earlier metaphor makes us laugh.
“Exactly,” I say, with a renewed sense of partnership. “We’ve got this, as long as we stick together.” The resolve in my voice isn’t just for her reassurance—it strengthens my own determination to protect what we’ve built here, no matter the challenges.
“It’s none of my business, but I have to ask.” Her voice trembles, and she frowns deeply, avoiding my eyes. “Does she always sleep in your bed, with you?”
She twists her hands together, knuckles white, then lets them drop to her sides, her fingers curling and uncurling restlessly. “You don’t have to answer. It’s just ... she seems very comfortable here and I got the feeling that?— ”
“Nope,” I cut in, shaking my head firmly. My chest tightens, and I force myself to keep my voice steady. “We don’t sleep together. She tries, but that ship sailed the day she did.”
I glance away, memories flashing briefly in my mind, a painful reminder. “It was never a love match,” I continue, swallowing hard. “It was an oops that I tried to make right. She’ll never be anything more to me than Hailey’s mom.”
Timber’s shoulders relax, and a small sigh escapes her lips. She takes a hesitant step forward, searching my face for any sign of doubt.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to—” She stops, her words faltering as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against my arm. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
Before I can respond, she steps closer, wrapping her arms around me in a gentle hug. The weight of our unspoken words melts away. She holds on for a moment longer, then pulls back slightly, looking up at me with a mixture of relief and something else—something hopeful.
“I just needed to know,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my neck. “Because I care about you, Kane. More than you realize.”
“You have nothing to worry about. I’m with you. I was never really with her.”
“Really?” She lifts a brow and smirks. “Then how do you explain Hailey? The stork? ”
“You know what I mean.” I look at the house. “Maybe we should go back inside. Who knows what damage those two can do.”
Timber and I leave the chicken coop more fortified against the chaos Amanda has brought into our home. As we step back inside, the atmosphere shifts. The house seems quiet. We walk toward the living room, unsure of what we'll find.
Peeking around the corner, I see Hailey sitting on Amanda's lap. A pang of unease twists my gut. Hailey's body is tense, her small shoulders stiff and her hands fidgeting. I want what's best for her, but is that really Amanda?
The moment Hailey spots Timber in the doorway, her face lights up with unmistakable joy. She wriggles off Amanda’s lap without a second thought and rushes toward Timber, throwing her arms around her legs.
I watch Amanda's reaction. Her smile falters, a hint of frustration crosses her face before she masks it and picks up the remote control. “I missed you,” Hailey says, her voice muffled against Timber's jeans. Timber bends down, lifting Hailey into a warm embrace.
“I missed you too, honey. Are you ready to help me make dinner?” Timber asks, smoothing back Hailey's hair.
Hailey nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Can we make spaghetti? I wanna help stir the sauce!”
“Actually, how about we mix it up tonight? Let's make some homemade pizza. You can help me knead the dough and choose the toppings. ”
Hailey gets excited at the suggestion. “Pizza! Can we put on pepperoni and lots of cheese?” she asks eagerly, her energy infectious.
“Of course, and maybe some veggies too? You can pick them out,” Timber leads Hailey by the hand into the kitchen.
I follow them, watching as Timber lifts Hailey onto a stool by the kitchen counter. They start gathering ingredients, and the kitchen soon fills with the sounds of laughter and the pleasant aroma of cooking.
While Timber and Hailey immerse themselves in pizza-making, I keep an eye on Amanda, who remains in the living room, her presence somewhat distant from the warm activity in the kitchen. She sits on the couch, her fingers idly scrolling through the channels on the remote, her expression reflecting a mix of fatigue and disinterest.
I glance her way occasionally, noting the lack of connection. After a few moments, she seems to notice the aroma and makes her way over. She leans against the doorway, watching Timber and Hailey laughing and spreading sauce on the pizza dough.
Her eyes follow their movements, and I catch a brief glimmer of something—perhaps longing, perhaps regret—before her usual mask of indifference slips back into place.
“Is there going to be a vegan option?” She crosses her arms, surveying the array of toppings laid out on the counter.
I glance over from where I'm setting the table and meet her gaze. “This isn’t a restaurant. If you want something different, you’ll have to make it yourself.”
Timber smiles. “We’ve got extra dough. I’m happy to help you figure it out.”
Timber steps up as Amanda surveys the toppings, clearly not thrilled with the choices.
I watch as Timber smooths things over, grabbing the extra dough. “Let's fix you up with something nice,” she says, her tone light and friendly. “We've got plenty of veggies here, like bell peppers, olives, artichokes. Do any of those sound good?”
Amanda seems taken aback by Timber's kindness, but she nods. “Yeah, that sounds fine. Thanks,” she replies, and steps up to the counter. They start putting together a pizza, Timber showing Amanda where everything is.
Hailey joins in, giggling as she places olives on the dough. “We're making a smiley face!” she declares. The kitchen lightens up a bit with their laughter.
I lean back, watching them work. Timber's got a way of making things smooth. She turned what could have been a standoff into something normal—just making dinner. She’s transformed this place into a true home, not just a house.
As we all sit down to eat, the mood is way better than I expected. Amanda even cracks a few jokes. Watching Timber, I'm struck by how naturally she brings everyone together. Makes me grateful, not just for the peace she brings, but for her. Everything is right when she’s around .
Suddenly, in the midst of her excitement, Hailey, with a slice of pizza in one hand, declares loudly, “I have two mommies!” Her innocent comment, meant to express her joy at having two important women in her life together, hangs in the air.
The room goes quiet. Amanda’s face freezes, the smile fading as she processes Hailey's words. There’s a palpable shift in her demeanor. What was meant as a sweet observation from Hailey cuts deep.
“She is not your mother. I am. She’s … I don’t know what she is.” Amanda pushes back from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She stands, her expression clouded with a mix of hurt and anger. She turns and rushes out of the room, heading toward my bedroom. The sound of the door slamming echoes through the house.
The sudden departure leaves me stunned. Hailey looks confused and ready to cry, not fully understanding the impact of her words. Timber quickly tries to console her, while I’m left trying to figure out how to handle the situation.
“How about we go for a walk? We can pick some wildflowers for your mommy.” Timber shoots me a look, her eyes conveying a mix of concern and a need for action.
I nod, pushing back my chair to head for my bedroom. As I leave the kitchen, I'm torn. Hailey meant no harm with her simple declaration.
I pause in front of my door, my hand raised to knock. A moment of irritation flashes through me. This is my house, my door . Why should I have to knock? But the sound of muffled sobs from the other side reminds me of the delicate situation at hand.
I fear what Amanda might do next. Will she lash out further? Say something to Hailey that she can’t take back? My mind races as I stand there, torn between anger and empathy, hoping I can diffuse the situation without making things worse.
Taking a breath, I tap lightly on the door. “Amanda?” I call.
The crying stops momentarily, then resumes, softer now. I take that as an invitation, pushing the door open to find Amanda curled up on the bed, her face buried in my pillow. She's shaking with sobs, her body racked with the weight of her emotions.
I step inside, closing the door quietly behind me. Approaching the bed, I sit down cautiously at the edge, giving her space yet offering my presence as comfort.
“She hates me,” Amanda gasps out between sobs. “My own daughter hates me.”
I shake my head, feeling a mix of annoyance and sympathy. Amanda often reacts like this, and it always frustrates me. Her dramatic, emotional outbursts seem to demand a response I'm never quite sure how to give.
“Hailey doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t know you,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. “You can't expect a few phone calls and random visits to fill the gap of several years. She's spent more time with Timber these last few weeks than she has with you her entire life. ”
Amanda turns, her eyes red and swollen. “So, what am I supposed to do?”
Inside, there is a familiar pang of helplessness. I know she wants me to offer a solution, to tell her what to do, but I don’t have all the answers.
“We start by taking it slow,” I suggest, trying to be as supportive as possible while suppressing my own unhappiness. “Spend more time with her. Be there consistently. Show her that you care. You can’t walk in here and expect it to be all rainbows and butterflies. It’s going to take time. She doesn’t trust you.”
“She doesn’t or you don’t?” Amanda shoots back, her voice sharp.
Her question cuts deeper than I want to admit. I’ve never said a bad word about her in front of Hailey, always hoping she’d shape her own opinions. But Amanda’s erratic presence has always left scars. “I guess we both don’t. You always have an angle, Amanda. Do you truly want to get to know Hailey, or are you just killing time between assignments?”
She shakes her head, her expression turning weary. “I’m getting too old to flit between continents. It’s time I settled down. But it looks like I’m too late.”
Her words hang heavy in the air, and a surge of bitterness wells up inside me. “Do you know how many times she’s asked why you’re not around? You’ve missed most of her life events like birthdays and Christmases. It’s not just about being late, Amanda. It’s about the damage already done.”
Amanda wipes her face, the anger giving way to despair. “I just ... I thought it would be easier. That she’d be happy to see me.”
“She was happy to see you,” I admit. “But building a relationship, especially with a kid, takes more than just showing up with presents. It takes time, effort, consistency. It’s not too late, but it won’t be easy.”
“What about Timber? Who is she to you?” Amanda’s voice is almost a whisper, but it carries a weight that makes me pause.
I think about it for a minute, the answer clear as day. “She’s everything.” My voice cracks slightly, the emotion too strong to hide.
Amanda’s eyes flash with something I can’t quite read—regret, jealousy, maybe both. Then she drops the bombshell. “I’m planning to stay, Kane. I want to be here for Hailey. For us.”
A mix of shock and anger surges through me. “There is no us, Amanda. There never was. I tried to do the right thing once, and you left. You don’t get to mess up your life and then come back and screw up mine. You think you can just waltz back to town, and everything will be fine? After all this time? You think there’s still a chance for us?”
Her eyes well up again, and I can see she’s struggling to hold it together. “I know I’ve made mistakes. But I want to make things right. I want to be part of Hailey’s life. And ... maybe yours too.”
I stand up abruptly. “Amanda, you can’t just decide this now. It’s not fair to Hailey, and it’s not fair to Timber. Or me.” I glance back at her, my emotions a turbulent mix of anger, regret, and confusion. “Get your shit together.”
As I leave the room, the weight of Amanda’s presence presses down on me, making it impossible to focus on anything else. The conversation with Timber will have to wait. Right now, I need to navigate the storm Amanda has brought into our lives.