Chapter 15
Jake
I drive to Adele’s school still thinking about Kelly. We had one of those all-consuming, fire-and-ice relationships that started when we were teenagers—fifteen and sixteen when we first started dating, full of passion and mess. We were on and off for years, breaking up over something dumb, only to get back together, magnets pulled by a force we couldn’t control.
We were so young. Nobody’s thinking clearly at that age—I wasn’t when I slept with Jenny. I’d heard that Kelly had a new boyfriend, and I was sure she was lost to me forever, and Jenny was nice, but neither of us felt that spark, but we didn’t need to—it was never meant to be a long-term thing.
A few weeks later, Kelly was at my door. It was a Friday night, late summer, the air still thick and humid. I was halfway through a movie when the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there she was—her eyes bright but anxious, that familiar glint of determination mixed with something vulnerable. Before I could even ask why she was there, she spoke.
“Jake, I made a mistake,” she blurted, words spilling out in a rush. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Her words startled me. “Aren’t you dating James Templeton?”
She frowned, shaking her head. “What? No. I’m not seeing anyone else. I haven’t even thought about it. You’re the only one I want.” Her gaze hardened, just barely, as if she wasn’t sure I’d feel the same way. “But you’re with Jenny, right?”
I shook my head. “No, I mean yes, we’ve been dating. But it’s nothing serious. We’re just having fun. Jenny knows the score. I was trying not to think about you.”
“So…”
At that moment, all the tension I’d been carrying since our fight just melted away. “Kelly,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the fact that she was standing in front of me, saying exactly what I’d been hoping to hear every day since our latest breakup. “You’re the only one I want.”
We stood there in silence, just looking at each other. Then, she reached for my hand, and I took hers, pulling her inside, wanting her close, so close. “Let’s make it work this time,” I said, almost as a plea.
She smiled that smile which just about killed me. “A fresh start. No more doubts, no more breakups. We’re doing this.”
I didn’t hesitate. Right then, I knew what I had to do. “Give me five minutes.” I stepped into the hallway and pulled out my phone, dialing Jenny’s number.
I looked back to see Kelly standing there, the woman I’d been in love with for what felt like my whole life. Jenny deserved more than someone who was only half in it, and with Kelly here, I was ready to give her everything. The call barely rang once before Jenny answered.
“Hey, Jake! What’s up?”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Jenny, look, I’m sorry, but we need to end things. I think it’s best for both of us.”
There was a short pause before she laughed. “No problem. Honestly, I had a feeling. We were just keeping things casual anyway, right?”
“Right,” I said, relief loosening the gnawing in my chest. “Thanks, Jen. I appreciate it.”
“See you round,” she said lightly, and with that, we hung up.
Breaking up with Jenny had been simple, clean. No messy goodbyes, no bitter resentment—so different to what I felt each time Kelly and I ended things.
I walked back into the living room, finding Kelly there, waiting. Her eyes were full of questions, but I just pulled her close and she settled against me. This time, it was for real. This time, we were both all in and nothing was going to change that.
Until I found out that Jenny was pregnant.
I tried to do the right thing, or what I thought the right thing was at the time. I was there for Jenny. For our baby. But I’d never stopped wondering what could’ve been.
I finally pull up to the school, and there’s Adele, slumped on the front steps as though her world just ended. She’s wearing a hoodie with high-waisted jeans ripped at the knees, and on her feet are pristine white sneakers—the only thing she cleans religiously.
Her brown hair falls loosely over her shoulders, not messy exactly, but not brushed and styled the way her mom would’ve made sure it was before school. She’s wearing eye makeup and bright lipgloss, but it doesn’t hide her sad expression.
I see the attempt she’s making—to look older, not a kid anymore—but all I see is my little girl, caught between wanting to grow up too fast and not knowing how. The sight of her like this—half-child, half-teen—twists my gut in a way I can’t put into words.
Adele looks up and sees me. She stands, bag slung over her shoulder as she walks toward me. She gets into my truck, her eyes glued to her phone, thumb scrolling through images, screen angled away from me.
“Bad day?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, non-invasive.
Adele shrugs, doesn’t even glance up. “It was fine.”
Fine is teenage for everything’s gone to hell but I don’t push it. Instead, I watch her from the corner of my eye as I navigate the streets of Harbor’s Edge.
“You know, if you keep staring at that thing like a zombie, I’m gonna have to take it away,” I say, half-joking.
That gets her attention. Her head snaps up, and those brown eyes, identical to mine, shoot daggers. “You can’t just take my phone, Dad!”
“I’m not going to take it, but it’s time for me to do a spot check. We had a deal, remember? No phones at dinner, and if it becomes a problem—”
“Problem? What do you know about problems? You don’t understand anything!” she yells, going from zero to a hundred in the space of a few seconds.
“Hey, lower your voice.” I try to stay calm, but heat creeps into my words. “I get things are tough at school, but I’m here, okay? Talk to me. I can’t do anything to help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Whatever,” she mutters, turning her gaze back to her phone.
The rest of the ride is silent. When we pull into the driveway, she bolts out of the truck before I can kill the engine, storming into the house. I follow, slower, bracing myself.
“Here, snoop through my phone as much as you want.” Her cell lands with a thunk on the kitchen counter, and she’s already halfway down the hallway.
“Adele—” I say, but she’s gone, door slamming shut in that way only teenagers can manage.
I stare at the phone. This damn device has more of a connection with my daughter than I do. I hate invading her privacy, but we had a deal when we agreed to get her a phone—me and her mom can undertake spot checks whenever we think it’s necessary. I pick it up, thumb hovering over the unlock button before I open it and check the messaging apps and internet browser.
There’s nothing. A few memes sent from friends, a conversation with her grandma full of heart emojis. But her messages with, well, anyone else? Scrubbed clean. My stomach knots. What did she delete?
“Dammit,” I say, setting the phone down harder than I should. I lean against the counter, feeling helpless. The irony isn’t lost on me—a man who can fix anything but his own relationship with his daughter.
All I can do is keep offering stability and security and hope that things get better with time. I run a worried hand through my hair, gaze trailing across the empty room, before grabbing a soda from the fridge.
When did fatherhood become so complicated? I thought I had it all figured out, thought I knew how to be the dad she needed. A comfortable place to sleep. Food on the table, clothes to wear. A safe home where she’s always welcome. But these days, it’s not enough, and I’m fumbling, trying to keep up as the goal posts keep shifting.