More from the Daddy Secret Series
Chapter One
“Kline! Get your head in the game!” Coach Martinez's voice carries across the sunlit field. “That's the third shot you've missed.”
The soccer ball rolls pathetically past the goal, joining its friends in a growing collection of my failed attempts. The early morning sun already beats down on the turf, promising another scorching September day. Perfect. Just perfect.
“Sorry, coach.”
“Take five. Get some water.”
Dragging myself to the bench, I grab my water bottle and check my phone. The salt air has already started to frizz my hair, a daily battle that Mom says I inherited from someone. Checking my phone, I notice a couple text messages from Maya.
Maya
Where are you??? Dying without my pre-calc study buddy.
Nvm Sophie's helping. But you better have a good excuse for ditching me.
“Everything okay?” Coach asks, settling beside me on the bench. Her clipboard has college recruitment forms peeking out from beneath the daily practice schedule. A group of surfers catches waves in the distance, their silhouettes black against the brightening horizon. “You're usually begging for extra practice time, not missing easy shots.”
“Yeah, just...” The medical forms from yesterday's physical are crumpled in my bag, every blank space a reminder of what I don't know. “Doctor stuff.”
Above us, seagulls circle the bleachers, probably hoping someone left behind a sandwich from yesterday's game. The ocean breeze carries the scent of salt and sunscreen which always brings me a sense of ease. Coach's expression shifts to that careful look adults get when they think they're being subtle. “Anything serious?”
“Just some forms I need to fill out. Medical history and stuff.”
“Ah.” More careful nodding. Everyone at school knows the deal - or at least the version Mom lets people believe. Single mom, dead husband or something. It's easier than explaining that I know absolutely nothing about him except that he lives somewhere in Michigan. Probably prepping for fall and removing leaves from his yard while we're here chasing endless summer.
“Have you talked to your mom about-”
“I should get to class,” I cut her off, shoving my water bottle in my bag. “Thanks for the extra practice time.”
The morning sun casts long shadows across campus as I make my way to the locker room. Westview High School sprawls across prime oceanfront real estate, all open-air hallways and courtyards designed to catch the constant sea breeze. Mom says the school's location is why our tiny beach bungalow cost so much, but it was worth it to give me “opportunities.” Whatever that means.
Maya's waiting at my locker under the covered walkway, arms crossed. Her dark curls are still damp from swim practice, dripping onto her WHS Swimming team hoodie. “You missed pre-calc.”
“Had practice.”
“At seven AM? On a Monday?” She follows me as I swap out books. “What's really going on?”
“Nothing's going on.” The medical forms scratch against my arm through my bag. “Just trying to get better for playoffs.”
“Liv.” She grabs my arm, forcing me to look at her. “You're my best friend. I know when you're lying.”
“I'm not-”
“You are. And you suck at it.”
The bell rings, saving me from having to respond. “We're gonna be late for English.”
“This isn't over,” Maya calls after me as I speed-walk down the open corridor, dodging kids on skateboards and couples making out against the lockers. “You can't avoid everything forever!”
Watch me.
I’m sliding into my seat just as Mrs. Devonne starts taking attendance. The classroom windows are wide open, letting in the persistent sound of waves and distant volleyball games from the beach PE class.
Derek Lance drops into the seat next to me, his goalkeeper jersey damp with sweat. Sand dusts his cleats - probably been practicing kicks on the beach again. “You looked rough out there today.”
“Thanks. Really needed that confidence boost.”
“Just saying.” He pulls out his copy of The Great Gatsby, the margins are filled with his messy handwriting. “Everything okay?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” The words come out sharper than intended.
“Maybe because you're acting weird?” He leans back in his chair, that annoyingly concerned look on his face. “And you missed three easy shots this morning. You never miss.”
“I had a doctor's appointment yesterday, okay? Just routine stuff.” The lie feels heavy on my tongue. “Can we drop it?”
Mrs. Devonne clears her throat from the front of the room, her flowing yellow sundress moving in the breeze from outside breeze. “If Mr. Lance and Ms. Kline are finished with their private discussion, we can begin analyzing chapter three.”
Heat creeps up my neck as twenty-five pairs of eyes turn toward us. Derek mumbles an apology and opens his book, but I catch him glancing at me throughout class. He's known me since the 8th grade - probably sees right through my lies.
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of classes and avoided conversations. Through every window, I see surfers catching waves, tourists spreading towels on the sand, locals walking their dogs along the shoreline. Paradise, if you're into that sort of thing.
By lunch, I'm ready to hide in the library, but Maya intercepts me in the courtyard before I can make my escape. The sun sits high overhead now, turning the metal lunch tables into miniature griddles.
“Nope,” she says, linking her arm through mine. “You're sitting with us. Sophie's got drama and I need details.”
Our usual lunch table sits under a cluster of palm trees, offering minimal shade from the midday heat. Sophie's already holding court with her latest relationship crisis while the rest of the soccer team pretends to care. I slide onto the sun-warmed bench, pulling out the sandwich Mom made this morning.
“He hasn't texted me back in three hours,” Sophie says, her blonde hair somehow perfect despite the humidity. “What does that mean?”
“That he's in class?” Maya suggests, stealing one of my chips. “Like a normal person?”
“But he usually sends at least a heart emoji between periods!”
I tune out the relationship drama, focusing instead on my sandwich. Mom always writes little notes on the paper - today's says “Love you to the moon and back.” It's our thing, has been since elementary school.
“Earth to Liv!” Maya waves her hand in front of my face. “Sophie asked you a question.”
“Sorry, what?”
Sophie leans forward, her perfect makeup somehow surviving the beach humidity. “I asked if you're coming to Tyler's beach bonfire Friday. The whole team's going.”
“Can't. Family thing.” Another lie.
“You always have a family thing,” Sophie pouts, adjusting her designer sunglasses. “Your mom's so strict.”
If only she knew. Mom's the opposite of strict - probably because she spends so much energy pretending everything's normal. Like this morning, when I tried asking about the medical forms over breakfast on our tiny patio.
“Just fill out what you know, honey. The rest doesn't matter.”
Except it does matter. Dr. Jensen had been clear about that - family medical history is important. Heart conditions, genetic disorders, all the things I should know but don't because Mom guards the past like a state secret.
The bell signals the end of lunch, sending everyone scrambling for shade and air-conditioned classrooms. As I gather my things, Derek catches my eye from across the courtyard, pausing his conversation with his team members He mouths “You okay?” and I give him a thumbs up that feels as fake as the artificial grass on our soccer field.
My phone buzzes in my pocket - probably Maya with more questions I can't answer. But it's Mom.
Mom
Hey sweetie, Don't forget your appointment with Dr. Stevens after school. I will meet you there. Love you!
The medical forms feel like they're burning a hole in my bag. Dr. Jensen had been understanding yesterday when I couldn't fill them out, but she'd been firm about needing them by the end of the week. “Family medical history is crucial,” she'd said, marking sections in yellow highlighter. “Especially at your age.”
My age. Eighteen. Old enough to drive, join the army, to apply to colleges, old enough to know more about where I come from than “Somewhere in Michigan.”
As I head to my next class, mom's voice echoes in my head: “ The past is the past, Liv. Some things are better left there.”
The thing is, I’m starting to think she's wrong about that. After all, even paradise can't hide secrets forever.