Chapter 41
Jake
I wave as Kelly’s car pulls away, her taillights disappearing through the swirling snow. At least she’s got snow chains on, now. She’s barely out of sight before the cold seems to settle in, heavier than before, and I drive back toward the shelter.
I pull up out the front of the high school and step out into the storm again, my mind still on Kelly as I head toward Patrick and the guys in the gymnasium. The shelter’s already packed—families huddled together, blankets and hot coffee being passed around.
There’s a quiet urgency in the air, a sense that everyone here knows the storm’s about to hit hard. I weave through the crowd, checking on supplies, making sure everyone is comfortable, thinking through what just happened at the site.
Something’s wrong. Hell, anyone could see the worry etched across her face, the way she stared off into the snow, fighting a battle only she could see. I thought showing up there might help, that maybe if she saw me doing everything possible to protect the work we’ve done so far, she’d be reassured. But I could tell by her eyes, by the way she forced a smile and looked away, that I didn’t quite reach her.
I just don’t know what else to say or do.
“Jake, could use a hand here,” Patrick calls from the other side of the room, pulling me out of my thoughts. He’s trying to maneuver a portable heater through a small space between cots, and I give him a nod.
We get the heater in place, and the other guys are handing out flashlights and water bottles with some volunteers. But even in the middle of all this, Kelly’s face keeps coming back to me—the tight set of her jaw, the worry in her eyes.
There’s the weight of the festival and all the expectations she’s carrying. She’s always been determined, always pushing herself to do more. But there was something different this time.
“Earth to Jake,” Antonio says, slapping me on the back as he passes with an armful of blankets. “You good?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.” I don’t even have the words to explain. Because the truth is, I don’t know how to make Kelly feel better. I wish I did. I wish I knew how to fix all the things that are bothering her.
Liam jogs over. “Everything’s set here. Just in time, too—the wind’s picking up again. We’re in for it tonight. We should head home.”
A glance at my watch. “Yeah. I need to get Adele from her moms. Stay warm, fellas.”
We clap each other on the back before I head toward my truck, driving slowly through the snowfall to get Adele. The drive is tense, the storm’s grip tightening on the world outside. Snowflakes swirl thick around me as I pull up in front of Jenny’s house. None of us were expecting this storm to hit as fast as it has, but we’re here now and we’ll just have to deal with it. I kill the engine, hoping Adele is ready and this will be a quick pickup.
I knock a couple of times, but there’s no answer, so use my spare key to let myself in. Jenny’s house is quiet except for the sound of the wind howling outside.
“Adele, it’s Dad. Are you ready to go?”
I continue through the house and find Adele’s door cracked open slightly, enough to see her sitting on the bed, earbuds in, her back hunched, face red and shoulders shaking.
“Adele?” I step into the room. Her head snaps up, and she turns away quickly, brushing her cheeks.
She doesn’t meet my eye. “What do you want?”
The sight of her tugs hard on something deep inside me. “I’m here to take you home, sweetheart. We’ve gotta go—the storm’s getting worse.”
But she doesn’t move, just hunches deeper into herself. Pain lances through me. I can’t seem to fix anything for the people I love at the moment. I wish Kelly was here now. She’d know just what to say to Adele. She always has the best advice, almost as though she sees something of herself in my daughter.
“Adele, come on, what’s wrong? I thought things were getting better. You’ve been pretty happy since the party. I figured everything at school or with your friends was all sorted.”
She stays silent, and that only makes my worry grow. I try again, a little firmer. “Adele, we have to go now. Come on, we can talk in the truck.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she mumbles, her voice barely audible. “And I’m not going. I’ll stay here.”
“You can’t stay here, Mom’s staying at granny’s and there’s a storm coming.”
“Just leave me alone.”
The wind howls louder outside and my desperation builds. My gaze catches on her cell.
“Let me see your phone,” I say. Her eyes widen, and she quickly stashes it behind her back.
“What? No way!”
I shake my head, not backing down. “Yes, Adele. Right now. I need to know what’s going on, and I’m not giving you a chance to delete anything like you usually do. You know we agreed to spot checks when Mom and I said you could get a phone, and something’s clearly upset you.”
After a beat, she reluctantly hands it over. I scroll through her messages, and what I find sends a surge of anger boiling through my veins.
A group chat with her classmates stares back at me, a list of names organized into hot and not . And there, beneath a cold, dismissive not , is Adele’s name.
I scan the messages, sick as I read the comments, each one uglier than the last. It looks as though a group of boys in her class have ranked all the girls in their class, dissected them as nothing but pieces of meat, commenting on everything from big boobs to easy . Adele’s name sits alongside a list of reasons that make my blood run cold—cruel, shallow words that could crush any kid, let alone a teenage girl.
“Adele,” I say, struggling to keep my voice calm. “How long has this been going on?”
She doesn’t answer, but her face twists in pain, her cheeks streaked with fresh tears. “Please, Dad, just—just let it go. It doesn’t matter.”
But I can’t let this go. No way. “This isn’t right, Adele. No one should talk about you this way, or anyone else for that matter.”
She sniffs, looking away. “They’re just joking and having fun.”
“It’s not funny unless everyone enjoys the joke.” I shake my head, my grip tightening on her phone. “This stops now.”
Ignoring her pleas, I screen-shot the messages and forward them to myself, then pull out my phone and call the school principal.
“Mrs. Thompkins, this is Jake Tanner. I wanted to let you know that I’ve just read some very concerning messages between the kids in Adele’s class. In my view, there’s a serious issue with bullying. I’m emailing you screen shots of what’s been going on, and I want to hear back from you today about what you’re going to do about it.”
Mrs. Thompkins hesitates, clearly taken aback by my tone. “Thanks for letting me know, Mr. Tanner, I’ll look into it first thing. I assure you, we’ll handle it.”
“Good.” My voice is steady, though inside, I’m still boiling. “This needs to be dealt with immediately.”
“Of course.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, thank you. I appreciate you taking this seriously, especially with the storm barreling down on us. Stay safe.”
I hang up and turn to Adele. She’s staring at me, her face pale, a mix of worry and fear in her eyes that just about breaks my heart.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
I hold out my hand and after a beat she takes it, and I pull her to standing. We pack her bag in silence, and I lock up behind us before we run to the truck through the snow.
As I drive home, my hands grip the wheel harder than necessary, the skin stretching white over my knuckles. I can’t shake the anger thrumming through me—at those kids, at the school, but mostly at myself. How could I have missed this? Adele’s been struggling, and I thought I’d been doing everything right. But here she is, crying silently in the passenger seat, because I didn’t see what was going on. Didn’t ask the right questions.
I glance over at her, bundled up in her coat, her cheeks still wet with tears. She’s staring out the window, as if the snowstorm outside is more comforting than anything I could say.
“I’m sorry, Adele,” I finally say, breaking the heavy silence between us. “I should’ve figured out what was going on sooner.”
She doesn’t look at me, just huddles deeper into her seat. She sucks in a shuddering breath, barely loud enough to hear over the hum of the engine. “You shouldn’t have called the principal. You just made everything worse.”
Made it worse . The words hit hard, and it’s all I can do to keep my voice steady. “What those boys did is wrong and someone needed to stop it. Sometimes these things are hard to talk about, but your mom and I are always here for you. Next time, tell us what’s going on.”
She shrugs, the movement barely visible in her heavy coat. “Whatever.”
“At least it’s all over now, right?”
She gives me this look like I literally have no idea—that nothing is over . And I don’t know what to say or do. Again.
I need to call Jenny when we get home and fill her in on all this.
My gaze flicks back to the road, the snow thickening, swirling around us. I need to be the dad that Adele needs. And I have to make sure Kelly is okay. And somehow, I need to do this while dealing with the storm that’s about to hit us. And honestly, I’m failing on all fronts.
Snow drifts across the road in the wind and I’m hit with such longing—me and Kelly—inside with the fire burning, warm, cozy, just her laugh and her eyes on me, the two of us wrapped up in our own little world.
Adele deserves better from me. And damn it, so does Kelly. I’d give anything for things to be simpler, for me to be the man I need to be for them both.