17 Dane
Dane
LEVI DIDN’T MENTION WHEN he asked me to take over that not only would I be teaching ten kids once a week for the next month, but I’d also become a spectacle for parents.
I said they could stay out of courtesy, but I didn’t think they would.
I’d given them two free hours of childcare, and the only ones who left were Lindsey—the only person I would have wanted to stay—and a woman named Mandy, who said she’s the sheriff’s wife.
The rest stayed, parking themselves at picnic tables and benches.
It puts me on edge, an emotion I haven’t felt in a long time.
It’s one thing when you’re being watched anonymously online; it’s another thing entirely when it’s happening in person in real time, especially after spending so much time alone.
There goes my anonymity, though I do recognize a few parents I’ve seen from time to time at the store. I just don’t know their names.
“Are you a real lumberjack?” a girl named Moira asks.
“Duh, he won that speed pole climbing competition last weekend. Like for the millionth time, my dad said. He’s a real lumberjack, no cap,” a boy who looks older than the other kids says. I think his name is Max.
“Just because you climb a pole doesn’t mean you’re a logger.” My attention turns to the girl who I’ve learned is Lindsey’s daughter, Kasandra, or Kas, as she told me she likes to go by. My lips twitch at her response to the boy. She has one hand on her hip and rolls her eyes.
I haven’t known Lindsey for long, but even if I hadn’t been told which one was her kid, I would have known right away.
Not only do they look like each other with their brown eyes and round faces, but she’s also smart.
This isn’t the first time in the last hour that she’s responded to other kids with quick wit and a sass in her tone that reminds me of her mother.
The group of kids giggle at her retort, and my twitching lips turn into a small smile.
“That would be so sus if he wasn’t,” Max adds. “He’s teaching us lumberjack stuff.”
“Logger stuff.”
“Whatever. Don’t be extra, Kas.”
This time, Lindsey’s kid does roll her eyes. “I’m not being extra. My Aunt Morgan says that’s what they’re called now instead of lumberjacks. It’s gender neutral.”
“Then why don’t they call them the Logger Games instead of Lumberjack Games?” Max retorts.
My mind is trying to keep up with their chatter and slang, but one thing I do know is Kas doesn’t have an answer to Max’s question. The spark in her eyes dims, and she frowns.
It doesn’t slip past me that she called Morgan her aunt. Is Lindsey related to Morgan, then? I don’t know much about Morgan’s personal life beyond that she and Fox have added a new man to their dynamic. Maybe Kas is his niece? Which would make him Lindsey’s brother.
I clear the thoughts from my mind that are none of my business and put my fingers between my lips and whistle before a fight breaks out between the kids. The group of them all stand up straight and stop talking, their eyes widening as they give me their attention.
“Kas is correct; we’re called loggers,” I say in a stern tone. “I am a real logger, and the Lumberjack Games are called that because of the history of the games in the town. Though maybe they need an update. Now, do you kids want a history lesson or to continue learning the course?”
The group grumbles out some version of “ew, history” while Kas smirks and sticks her tongue out at Max.
Max responds back with the same expression, and I curse Levi again for breaking his goddamn leg and putting me in this situation, a situation I had no idea would potentially fuck up my dynamic with Lindsey.
I have hope, however, that she’ll give us a chance to talk it through.
I understand her hesitation, even her anger at me for not disclosing that I knew who she was, but she also didn’t tell me she had a kid.
The moment I found out, everything made sense.
The long hours she keeps at work, the hardships she faces both personally and financially.
How she told me someone in her life depended on her.
It wasn’t a boyfriend, husband, friend, or parent—it’s a child.
Her child. Who she’s apparently raising alone and with a full-time job.
I wish she’d felt comfortable enough to tell me, and it’s bothering me that she didn’t.
Even if, logically, I can understand why.
“Logger Dane?”
My eyes shift to Kas, and the kids all giggle at her new name for me. I suppose I walked into that one. “Yes, Kas?”
“Are you going to teach us speed pole climbing?”
I point to the ropes course that was set up. Part of it is vertical ropes that are only eight feet high. That way, no harness is required, but they can start building their upper body strength by climbing them.
“That’s where we’ll start.”
“Those aren’t poles,” Moira responds.
“It’s a good place to start, trust me.” The last thing we need is a bunch of eight-to-ten-year-olds climbing poles in gear and getting injured.
This is a very beginner course intended for the kids to have fun and learn some basics, not to get them jobs as loggers in the future.
It’s honest work, and there’s nothing wrong with it, but it’s not exactly the easiest path in life.
“Can we try climbing now? It looks soooo easy,” Max says.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Have you done it before?” I challenge. This kid is a know-it-all. He kind of reminds me of Levi. Maybe he has a kid I don’t know about, too.
“No, but I go on the monkey bars all the time,” he throws right back.
“Yeah, and you fell on your stomach last week.” Tyler snickers.
Kas giggles the loudest of all the girls at Tyler’s comment. I noticed earlier that she kept looking at him. It’s clear now that she’s crushing on the boy. I wonder if Lindsey knows…I push that thought out. Not going there.
“Alight, alright. Follow me. We’ll do the ropes, and then we’ll move on to the log balance section.”
The kids all nod, and I buckle up for what I know is going to be an interesting rest of class. At least this will distract me from thoughts of Lindsey and what we need to talk about later. And the fact that she called me Sir in public. And that I called her a good girl right back.
All the kids have been picked up but one: Kas. I nearly messaged Lindsey, but it’s only seven minutes past three. The rest of the parents besides Mandy stayed for the entire two hours, but Mandy picked up her kid on time.
Thankfully, the rest of the class went smoothly, and nobody got hurt on any of the obstacles we went over today. The parents seemed happy with what I did, too, so I’m going to call it a success.
“She’ll be here,” Kas says from her place beside me. “She probably was napping because she’s gotta work tonight and is on her way now.”
I nod, putting my hands in my pockets as we stare out at the parking lot.
The warm afternoon breeze ruffles Kas’s hair, and I wonder what to say.
It was easier when I had something to talk about—the course—but now, we’re just standing here.
I don’t have siblings, and my experience with children is zero.
“Do you live here, Logger Dane?”
I almost laugh at her name for me, one that’s now stuck with all the kids—minus Max, of course, who insists on calling me Lumberjack Dane.
“At the park?” I ask.
Kas puts her hands on her hips and stares up at me, the sun shining in her eyes. I notice her nose is a little pink from the sun. I wonder what the SPF was on the sunscreen Lindsey put on her and if she needs a higher one.
She rolls her eyes. “No. Do you live in Starlight Haven?”
“I do.”
“How come I’ve never seen you before?” she asks.
I was asked this question multiple times today by the parents and now by her, but I answer the kid. “I don’t come to town often.”
“Why?”
“Because I like my privacy.”
“Why? Don’t you like people?”
I press my lips together. Do all kids ask this many questions? “Depends on who the people are,” I say.
Her brow squishes together before she nods. “I can respect that. People are annoying sometimes, like Max.”
It’s difficult, but I manage to keep in my laugh.
I like this kid. I debate what to say next, but I’m saved by a truck pulling into the parking lot.
It’s not the same car I saw Lindsey leave in, but I know whose truck it is.
Fox’s. My hackles rise, and I hope nothing happened to Lindsey to prevent her from picking up Kas.
Worry builds in my stomach, but when I look down at Kas, she doesn’t look worried at all.
“That’s my uncle, or at least one of them.
” She squints, clearly trying to see who’s in the driver’s seat.
When they pull up, I know right away it’s not Fox.
It’s a brown-haired man that I’ve never seen before.
He leaves the truck running and gets out, walking briskly toward us.
My first instinct is to step in front of Kas and protect her, but before I can, she’s running toward the guy.
“Uncle Nate!” She launches herself into his arms, and he grabs her with a chuckle. He hugs her before he places her on her feet and ruffles her hair. She bats his hand away, but a grin remains on her face.
“Sorry I’m a little late; I went to the other side of the park.”
“Where’s Mom?” Kas asks.
“She asked me to come get you since you were coming over later anyway.”
I study the interaction between the two and know they’re related without having to ask. They have the same brown eyes and facial features. Nathan is smiling, but while Kas was smiling a second ago, she isn’t now. “I don’t have a bag. I thought I was going home first.”
“I stopped and grabbed it before I picked you up. Your mom’s got you covered, even put a suit in there for playing in the stream later if you want.”
“Did you get my gaming headphones?”
“Like I would forget.”
Kas’s smile returns, but it’s not as bright as before. It’s clear to me—and by the way Nathan’s smile falters, it’s clear to him, too—that Kas wanted to go home. Guilt gnaws at my stomach, knowing I’m most likely the reason her mom obviously switched plans on her and sent her uncle to pick her up.
“Are you going to introduce me?” Nathan asks Kas.
“Oh, yeah! Uncle Nate, this is Logger Dane. He’s cool.”
Nathan walks the rest of the distance toward me, his eyes assessing in a way that reminds me of a wolf.
He’s got a well-trimmed beard and tattoos marking his left forearm that look like a forest scene.
I notice a tattooed band around his left finger with what looks to be the letters O U R S spelled out on his knuckles.
It doesn’t take a genius to put it all together. This is Fox and Morgan’s fiancé, the man she’s been wanting me to meet. He’s much shorter than me but built. His eyes are friendly yet calculating, much like mine.
“I’m Nathan, Lindsey’s brother. Nice to meet you.”
I take his extended hand, and we shake. His squeeze is firm, and the moment his eyes take in my appearance, studying the tattoos on my neck, I see a spark of recognition in his eyes. “I’m Dane,” I say.
He shakes my hand for another second before pulling back and shoving his hands in his jean pockets. He looks me up and down again, and I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “I think you know my partners, Fox and Morgan?”
I hold his eye contact and nod, not wavering or letting him know that he’s figured me out. By the way he keeps glancing at my tattoos and jawline, he knows who I am online.
It’s neither here nor there, but this again reminds me why, beyond my desire to be alone, I don’t interact much with people in town. My tattoos make it easy to figure out who I am if they’ve seen my Loopr account.
“I do. For a long time now.”
Nathan squints as if he’s attempting to read my mind.
“Uncle Nate, can we go? I’m hungry.”
Nathan shifts his gaze from me to his niece. “Yeah, Fox made some cinnamon rolls, and Morgan made a salad.”
“Gross.” Kas gags.
“It’s called balance,” he responds with a chuckle before turning his attention back to me. “I’m sure I’ll see you around again, Logger Dane. Thanks for waiting with her.”
The nickname is annoying coming from him, but I nod. “No problem. See you next week, Logger Kas.”
Kas’s cheeks tinge pink, and then she’s tugging Nathan toward the running truck.
Once they’ve pulled away, I take out my phone and walk around the park to grab some loose items—like the rubber axes—that I’ll keep in my truck so they aren’t misplaced.
The rest of the course will stay up for the month while we’re using it.
I stop in front of the pile of axes and look at the notifications on my phone. I have several from my clients with their check-ins but none from Lindsey.
My jaw clicks from the force of my grinding, and I exhale.
My patience is thin, and I don’t like it.
I told her to message me when she had an answer for me, and while my fingers demand to ask her for one right now, I’ve already given her an order.
It was my fault I didn’t specify when I wanted her answer.
Time to exercise my patience.