Chapter 2
DARREN
I’m only back in Cherry Peak for five minutes before I want to leave again.
The back seat of the car is whipped open the moment I park on the driveway. Abbie’s hardly had a chance to finish her yawn and wake up from her sleep before her mother’s diving in to unbuckle her.
“You were supposed to be home an hour ago!” Sasha scolds, a fiery glare aimed my way.
I ignore her evil eye, pretending I didn’t see it in the rear-view before climbing out. My ex-wife is already bundling our daughter into her arms and pulling her out of my car by the time I reach them.
“There was an accident on the highway,” I say shortly.
One that I worried we wouldn’t make it past without running out of gas. We were at a standstill for four hours before they got the semi out of the way and could open one of the two lanes of traffic back up. What a phone call that would have been to her.
As expected, Sasha doesn’t give a shit about my reasoning. “I wasn’t expecting to be here waiting this long. Clearly, you could have given me a bit more clarity on the situation. ”
I take a moment to sort myself before replying, the long drive and current time taking its toll on my already dwindling patience.
After riding such a high this past weekend, showing Abbie my favourite hidden camping spots in the mountains, I knew I’d be slapped by reality the moment we pulled back into Cherry Peak.
I’ve lived here my entire life, but the older I get, the more I’ve contemplated leaving. If I didn’t have Abbie . . . I can’t say if I wouldn’t have already.
“You didn’t need to pick her up tonight. She’s tired, Sasha.”
Abbie yawns again, loud enough to slice through the tension that’s grown. “I just want to go to bed here, Dad.”
“Let’s go inside, then, sweetheart. You’ll see your mom in the morning.”
Sasha’s fingers flex on Abbie’s shoulders before falling away.
If I thought I was getting the evil eye before, now it’s downright murderous.
It’s almost more relaxing to see her be this pissed off at me than whatever the alternative is.
This is the constant mood between us. It’s familiar.
Worse now that I’m changing plans on her without asking first.
With a huff, she butts me to the side and crouches in front of Abbie, smoothing her hands up and down her arms. The crinkle of her nose as she takes in the dirty fabric of our daughter’s fall jacket makes me proud.
“Alright. I’ll be back as soon as you’re up tomorrow morning. We’ll go out for breakfast to catch up, okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” Abbie whispers.
“I love you. Go right to bed. You need to be getting back on your regular sleep schedule. I’m sure you were up far too late the last few nights.”
Abbie blinks, recognizing the firm tone of Sasha’s voice as a partial scolding.
“It’s still summer break. Dad didn’t let me stay up that late.”
“We’ll see you in the morning, Sasha,” I say, inserting myself before she can continue with her backhanded comments .
She stands, pinning me with a narrowed gaze. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are. And she still has a week to get back on a routine.”
“You won’t be feeling as casual about this come the first day of school. In case you forgot, this is your first year having to worry about it.”
I dig my tongue into my cheek. Abbie snags my hand, and my attention snaps down to her. She yawns again, and I know without having to look at the time that we’re well past her bedtime . Her obvious exhaustion is enough to have me cutting this conversation short.
“Good night, Sasha. I’ll text you when we’re up in the morning,” I grit out before guiding Abbie away from the car. Without looking at my ex-wife again, I reach into the back seat and grab our two bags. “Have a great rest of your night.”
“Well then, give me a hug, Abs. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early,” she tells Abbie.
“’Night, Mom. Thanks for letting me stay here tonight.”
“I’ll have you all week. I suppose I shouldn’t hog you.”
I spin back around and join them before locking the car. “You heard her. Let’s head in.”
My daughter doesn’t even attempt to take her bag from me, knowing I’d just tell her that I’ll carry it. I’d laugh at that if it wasn’t for the woman still looming like a storm cloud hovering above my head.
The instant Abbie turns her back to us and slumps her way up to the front door, Sasha’s jabbing her finger into my chest. The shade of red on her cheeks is shocking, considering the lack of evening light.
“Don’t argue with me in front of her like that, Darren! I swear, I knew you were going to do this when I agreed to let you take her for the weekend. Every time she comes back from one of your trips, she’s got an attitude that I have to work through. You spoil her too much,” she whisper-hisses.
I shake my head a single time and swallow my immediate laugh.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned while co-parenting with a woman who only ever wants to see the worst in me is to learn when to keep my mouth shut and when to argue.
Right now, arguing with Sasha is the last thing I want to do.
It won’t do anything but escalate the situation.
She might use giving me permission to take Abbie for the weekend as some form of leverage, but that’s easy to shrug off.
Our custody agreement is simple. It rotates every week with shared alternating holidays.
If I want to take our daughter on a weekend trip to the mountains three hours away, I can do that without her permission, the same way she can take her to her new fiancé’s parents’ house without mine.
I choose to ask for it because despite our disagreements, I still appreciate and respect her as Abbie’s mother.
There’s no leverage there for her to use.
With a blank expression, I gently push her finger away and nod to where her SUV is parked along the curb. “Go home, Sasha. I’ve got Abbie, and you’ll see her in the morning.”
Some of the ire dulls in her eyes. “Text me the minute she wakes up, Darren. I’m serious.”
“I took a ton of photos of her while we were gone. I’ll send those tonight.”
It’s as close to a peace offering as I’ve got in me tonight.
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
“Dad! Unlock the door, please,” Abbie calls.
I back off Sasha and leave her on the driveway without another word. Once I’m coming up behind Abbie, she’s the only thing on my mind.
“Don’t start, Poppy.”
“I haven’t even said anything.”
“You didn’t need to. Your face says enough.”
“So, then there’s no point in me keeping my words to myself.”
“We’re not talking about this right now. I can handle Sasha.”
The rough noise Poppy replies with is spot-on, really. I’ve been “handling” Sasha for years now, and I don’t think I’m getting any better at it. If anything, it’s the opposite.
I lean on my back foot and grimace when the heel of my boot sinks into the ground.
The field I’m in is huge, empty, and fucking wet after the endless rain today.
We’re two hours north of Cherry Peak and a few gravel roads from the main highway on a plot of land my younger sister and her soon-to-be-husband have just purchased.
The woman herself is standing ankle-deep in mud and glaring at me with a fierceness that I’ve had to bear witness to for the last twenty-nine years. We’re only one year apart, but fuck, she acts like she was born at least another five before I was.
Garrison, her fiancé, watches me from her side, his usual asshole expression set in place. I can’t help but stare at his outfit, a laugh bubbling in my throat. Since the guy notices everything, he cocks a brow at me.
“Yes?”
“What the fuck are you wearing out here?”
“Don’t tease him to try and distract us. We’re talking about Sasha right now, D,” Poppy pushes.
I leave that alone and drop my focus to the once-shining black shoes now sunken into the mud. “If you want to build a house out here, you can’t be wearing those fancy shoes. The ground holds moisture. I thought you’d moved past the whole city boy thing.”
“I came straight from the office,” he grunts, lifting his foot and shaking it off. “My boots are at home.”
“And what about you? There’s no excuse for your fancy little booties,” Poppy returns, toeing my boots with hers.
The pink cowboy boots she’s had for years now are old and worn down, but still very her.
I gave up wearing boots like that when I was a teen.
If I wanted my toes to be squashed all the time, I’d buy cheap shoes a size too small.
Cowboy boots are too damn expensive to be as uncomfortable as they are.
And my “ fancy little booties ” are dark brown work boots. The kind that are halfway between clunky and fashionable. Or so Bryce tells me. They were a gift from my closest girlfriend last Christmas.
“I carved four hours out of my day to be here today instead of heading back to work. Be nice to me,” I tell her.
“The least you could have done is brought my niece with you so I’d have someone to giggle with while you boys talk.”
I scoff a laugh. “We all know you wouldn’t be standing around giggling with or without Abbie. You have more to say about the house than Garrison does.”
“She has an entire notebook full of ideas for you,” Garrison says.
“Did you bring it with you?”
Poppy nods and reaches into her purse to pull it out. “Of course I did. I need this to be perfect. After the house is finished, I’ll never be moving again.”
“This will be forever, then?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
It’s been forever for Poppy and Garrison since he arrived in Cherry Peak and sent my sister into a tailspin.
Now, they’re finally ready to put down permanent roots somewhere a bit closer to home.
In a perfect world, those roots would be in Cherry Peak itself, but my sister has always been too big for our hometown.
She has dreams that would be smothered there.
The grumpy billionaire in front of me right now gave her the push to make them a reality instead.