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Liam cuts me off with a heavy sigh. “School was fine. I’m fine. Yes, I have homework, but I’ll do it tomorrow, okay?” We drive in silence for a minute, the only sound in the cab the windshield wipers and my GPS giving directions. I wait him out. Liam hates to admit how similar we are, but in this aspect he’s just like his mother—hates silence and will talk just to fill it.
“Is this okay?” He breaks the silence by holding up a gift bag for my inspection. “It’s not too girly, right? Mom said it was cute, but I don’t know…” He pulls down the sun visor and pokes at his hair. Is he nervous?
I wait until we stop at a red light to look. “Well, the gift isn’t for you, right? I assume the present inside was more important to get right.” Personally, I think it’s over the top. The light purple bag has a glittery design swirling across it, with pink tissue paper sticking out the top and a mass of curly pink and purple ribbon stuck to the front. Glitter and ribbon? Seems like overkill to me, but what do I know about what sixteen-year-old girls like?
It reminds me of Frankie, bright and colorful.
The bag swings as I pull away from the light, the handle pinched between Liam’s fingers. “I guess you have a point. I just don’t want her to think it’s stupid.”
Does my boy have a crush? That would explain why he keeps checking his face in the mirror.
“I’m sure it’s fine—she won’t think it’s stupid.” I do my best to reassure him. Liam’s a good-looking boy, despite being at that awkward, gangly stage, his arms and legs a little too long for the rest of him. Lucky kid inherited my square jaw and ice-blue eyes, although his hair is lighter than mine and he keeps it short on the sides and back. Once he fills out a little more, the girls are going to go as wild for him as they did for me when I was his age.
Shit. We should talk about that. But not right now.
“How was your week, Dad?” Liam’s question distracts me from worrying about my son’s future navigating heartbreaks.
We chat about nothing of importance as I follow the navigation, the houses getting bigger as we go. Liam’s school is nearby, but Kim lives at the other end of the area zoned for it, the house she and her new husband bought small but nice. Better than the two-bedroom apartment I rent downtown, at any rate.
Eventually, I pull up in front of a large house, the navy blue paint and white trim accented by tall windows and a deep driveway. A driveway packed with cars.
“Whose party is this?” I know I only see Liam every other week, but I could have sworn I had a better handle on who his friends were than this. Besides, if he has a crush on this girl, I want to know who she is. Possibly do a little snooping on her family.
“Emma Miller.”
The name rings a bell, but I can’t place it.
“She’s in Bio with me.” Liam pops the door, but I stop him before he can climb out.
“What time am I coming back to get you?”
“Ummm…” Liam bites his bottom lip, looking more like the little boy I miss than the fifteen-going-on-sixteen he’s become. “A couple of hours? Can I text you?”
I debate with myself. Do I go into life lesson mode and remind him that I’m more than his personal Uber service, or do I let him be a kid and have fun with his friends? I catch him messing with his hair again with a glance in the side-view mirror.
“Sure. Just text me when you’re ready.”
“Thanks, Dad.” He swings the door open to climb out. There’s a distinct thump as the truck shakes, a muffled squeak, and the sound of something hitting the wet pavement with a crack. “Oh shit!” Liam freezes, panic on his face.
“Language,” I growl, but I’m already out my door and halfway around the front of the truck to see who he knocked over. Liam hasn’t moved, so I gesture for him to get out and help.
A girl is crumpled on the sidewalk, jean-clad legs askew, a purple gift bag beside her soaking up water from the puddle it landed in. She’s cradling her face in her hands, a bright yellow beanie pulled down over her ears, the green scarf wrapped around her neck all I can see.
“Shi—shoot. Are you okay?” I set a hand on her back to let her know I’m there. She jumps and pulls her hands away from her face. My heart stops at the blood streaked across her mouth and mittens. A beat passes before I recognize the emerald-green eyes staring up at me in confusion. Her distinctive orange hair is tamed into two braids and tucked beneath her scarf and jacket.
“Frankie?”
Everything freezes, my heart, my lungs, my brain, all of it caught in the fact that Frankie Davenport is looking up at me, dazed, glassy-eyed, and bleeding. Liam’s worried “Dad?” registers somewhere in the back of my mind while I fight back the urge to scoop her up and carry her away to safety, just like I wanted to at the holiday party.
I’m not sure why she’s here, but I should take her inside to clean up. “Liam, grab your stuff and Frankie’s gift.” I nod my head toward the bag, still sitting in the puddle. “Frankie?”
She searches the air for a second before finding my face. Shit. Did she hit her head? “Can you walk?”
“I think so?” Her whisper is barely audible, especially over the worried noises Liam is making, apologizing over and over. I reach an arm under her shoulders to help her to her feet. She gets her legs under her and pushes upright, but leans heavily against me. I’m aware of how warm and tiny she is somewhere in the back of my mind, savoring it, even while the business of getting her inside stays my priority.
“Can you pinch your nose?”
She winces but holds the tips of her fingers firmly over the bridge of her nose. Good, it’s probably not broken then. “Liam, son. She’s going to be fine. It was an accident.” My words cut off his litany, and he takes a steadying breath before meeting my eyes. I give him a reassuring smile.
