Chapter 18
JACE
I’ve noticed it ever since the horseback lesson. The way she avoids lingering too close, the quick little glances that dart away when I catch her looking, the way she always makes up excuses to avoid being in the same room as me, or the way she uses Daisy as a shield against me.
At first, I thought maybe I did something wrong, but the truth hit hard when I realized what was happening; she’s been pulling back, deliberately.
And I get it. Hell, I respect it. She’s here to do a job, and I’m a distraction she doesn’t need.
So I stay away. I keep my distance, careful not to hover or make my presence too heavy.
I give her space, even though every fiber of me wants to lean in, tease her, steal those small smiles that make my heart flutter.
It’s frustrating, but I don’t push. I tell myself this is about her boundaries, her comfort. I can survive a little ache of longing. I also know it’s best for the two of us. I can’t afford to get attached when she’s not a permanent figure here.
Still, I catch myself watching her out of the corner of my eye, the way she laughs with Daisy, the small, quiet pride she takes in her little victories. She’s something else. And maybe that’s why it hurts a little to keep my hands to myself.
I’m checking on the cold storage when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Checking the caller ID, I’m caught off guard when I see that it’s Daisy’s school.
My chest tightens instantly. Something’s wrong. They wouldn’t be calling otherwise.
“Hello?” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Mr. Morgan, this is Vice Principal Lambert,” the voice on the line says, clipped and professional. “I’m calling regarding your daughter, Daisy. There’s been an incident, and we need you to come in as soon as possible.”
“An incident?” My stomach drops. “Is she hurt?”
“No, no physical harm, but it’s serious in terms of school policy. Please come in immediately.”
My pulse quickens. “Right. I’m on my way.” I hang up, then wheel myself out of the cold storage.
I run into Tessa, who’s just walking out of the generator room where she was doing some maintenance.
“What is it?” she asks, concern lacing her voice, after noticing the worried look on my face.
I hesitate, then decide honesty is the only choice. “Daisy’s in trouble at school. I’ve just been called in.”
Her eyes widen, and she steps closer. “What happened? Is she okay?”
“Physically? Yes, but I need to get there.”
“I’m coming with you,” she says before I can even respond. Her voice is firm, protective.
I open my mouth to protest, but the truth settles in: she’s not asking, she’s insisting. And I can’t argue with that. Not where Daisy is involved.
“Alright,” I say, already moving toward the garage. “Let’s go.”
We hop into my truck with her in the passenger seat.
I reverse and drive out of the compound like a bat out of hell.
Tessa’s eyes are on the road like she’s ready for anything.
And I can’t help but notice that despite her distance, her pull-back, she’s still fiercely involved in my daughter’s life.
And I’m not sure what to feel about that, but I’ll dissect it later.
We don’t say anything during the drive; both of us are worried in our own way. The vice principal said Daisy is not physically hurt, but I still can’t help but overthink.
The school parking lot is unusually quiet when we pull up, but my pulse is hammering anyway. Tessa walks stiffly beside me, hands clenched by her sides, eyes darting between me and the administration block.
“Don’t worry,” I say, more to calm myself than her. “Let’s find out what’s going on and fix it.”
When we walk into the school office, Daisy’s sitting outside the vice principal’s door, small and slouched, eyes red. Her backpack is on the floor, one of her braids half undone.
Tessa rushes to her side. “Sweetheart, what happened?”
Before Daisy can answer, Mrs. Lambert steps out of her office, looking like she’s been waiting all day to be judgmental. “Mr. Morgan.”
I nod stiffly. “Mrs. Lambert.”
“Let’s talk inside.”
Tessa stands, ready to follow.
Mrs. Lambert’s gaze flicks to her. “I’m sorry, and you are?”
“Tessa Monroe,” she says evenly. “Daisy’s nanny.”
I catch the quick lift of Mrs. Lambert’s brow, a mix of surprise and disapproval. “Very well. You can sit in.”
All four of us step inside, and she closes the door behind us with a little click that sounds like a verdict.
“Mr. Morgan, we had to bring Daisy in today because her hair violates the school grooming policy.”
I blink. “Her what?”
“Her hair.” Mrs. Lambert gestures like it’s obvious. “Students are not allowed to have unnatural colors. Pink, blue, green—it’s all clearly outlined in the handbook.”
And that’s when I take note of the pink edges my daughter is sporting that were not there yesterday morning when we hung out in the corral. I turn to Tessa, who looks both relieved and amused by this whole situation. I’m glad she finds it funny because I do not.
“We consider this a violation serious enough to warrant suspension,” the vice principal hammers on.
Tessa gasps. “Suspension? She’s seven!”
Mrs. Lambert’s mouth tightens. “And yet, she still needs to learn accountability.”
I take a slow breath, letting my calm authority settle over the room.
“I understand the rules, but Daisy is under my supervision. This isn’t a safety issue or a behavioral problem.
I suggest a compromise: after-school detention for one week.
That will satisfy the rules without unnecessarily punishing her education. ”
The vice principal hesitates, clearly uncomfortable, and I push gently with a soft, persuasive tone I’ve honed over the years. “I assure you, Daisy will learn from this, and she’ll follow the rules going forward. This will be a lesson, not a punishment that derails her learning.”
After a tense moment, she sighs. “Very well, Mr. Morgan. One week of after-school detention. But no more dyed hair, understood?”
Daisy’s shoulders slump with relief, and Tessa exhales quietly beside my daughter, her fingers brushing against hers in a small, comforting touch.
I get off my seat and crouch slightly to meet Daisy’s eyes. “Understand? One week of detention, and no more bright colors, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers, her voice barely audible but full of promise.
I thank the vice principal and motion for Daisy to grab her things.
The drive home is tense, the silence thick enough to choke on.
Daisy sits quietly in her seat, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, while Tessa’s hands are clasped tightly in her lap, eyes on the dashboard.
I can feel the anger building, and it’s not just at Daisy; it’s at both of them for letting this happen in the first place.
I grip the steering wheel and look between the two of them. “I don’t even know where to start,” I mutter.
Daisy sinks lower in her seat.
And for once, Tessa doesn’t have a smart comeback. She just looks guilty, pink hair glinting in the sunlight, proof of the crime.
I grip the wheel tighter, trying to keep my voice even. “Do either of you want to tell me what the hell that was about?”
No answer.
“Pink hair, Daisy?” I continue. “You thought the school wouldn’t notice?”
Her small voice pipes up, shaky. “It was just the ends.”
“That’s not the point,” I shoot back. “You know there are rules. You broke them.”
Tessa glances at her, guilt all over her face. “It was my idea.”
I turn to her. “You think that makes it better?”
She swallows hard. “No. But I didn’t think—“
“Exactly.” I let out a sharp breath, forcing myself not to yell. “You didn’t think. You’re supposed to be the responsible one here, Tessa.”
Her jaw tightens, and she mutters under her breath, “Yeah, I’m aware.”
That quiet, defensive tone only makes me more frustrated, mostly because I’m not only mad at her, I’m mad at myself for not noticing in the first place. Am I really that terrible of a father?
I glance at Daisy in the rearview mirror. She’s blinking fast, eyes glossy. Damn it.
I sigh. “Look, sweetheart, I’m not angry because your hair’s pink. I’m angry because you didn’t think about the consequences. You’re smart, and you know better.”
She sniffles. “I just wanted to match Tessa.”
That hits me right in the gut.
Tessa’s head snaps toward Daisy. “Oh, honey—“
But I lift a hand. “No. She’s gotta hear this.” Then, softer: “Matching someone’s hair doesn’t make them like you more, Daisy. Tessa already cares about you. But next time, talk to me first before doing something that could land you in trouble, alright?”
Daisy nods, wiping her eyes.
The rest of the drive is quieter. Tessa keeps glancing out the window, and every few miles, I catch her reflection in the glass, lips pressed tight, shoulders tense.
I finally say, “You could’ve told me.”
She sighs. “Yeah. I know. I just wanted to give her something fun. She’s been working so hard, Jace. I thought it’d be like a reward.”
Her voice cracks on reward, and something in me softens. “You made a bad call, but your heart was in the right place.”
Her gaze flicks to me then, cautious, searching, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. The air feels heavier, but not angry anymore. Just… full.
Even when she’s being lectured, she carries herself with a quiet dignity, a sense of responsibility that goes beyond her years. She cares about Daisy, genuinely, and it shows in everything she does.
A small, reluctant pride swells in my chest. She’s not just a nanny or a tutor. She’s becoming a part of our little world here. And I can’t deny that seeing her care, seeing her grow into this role, makes something twist and tighten inside me.
I shake my head slightly, forcing the thought away. Focus, Jace. She’s here for Daisy, not for you. But even so, I catch myself thinking about the gentle way she spoke to my daughter, the way she stayed calm under pressure.
Respect. Affection. Something deeper, maybe. Something I can’t quite name yet.
I pull into the driveway, finally letting out a slow breath. The scolding is over. The lesson is learned. And as I watch Daisy hop out, holding her bag and muttering apologies, and Tessa following quietly behind, I can’t help the small, satisfied grin that tugs at my lips.
They’re learning. Both of them. And maybe, in some stubborn, roundabout way, so am I.