CHAPTER 1
WILDER
You remember that one kid from high school? The one who played football, had a whole bunch of girls chasing after him, and was popular as shit? The golden boy. Every school had one. Some of them were dicks, because that was what popularity could do to teenage boys. Hell, most of them were probably dicks. But there was a rare subspecies of golden boy who tried not to be a dick, and the teachers liked him, and the other kids liked him—including the weird, edgy kids who didn’t like anyone else—and even the parents of the girls he dated liked him. You ever wonder what happened to that guy?
Well, maybe he was walking up the front path to his baby mama’s parents’ place right now, his bare feet burning on the concrete because he’d busted his flip-flops when he got out to get gas before he got here, and he was itchy and trying not to show it because there was still glitter stuck in his ass crack from the night before.
And maybe that guy was me.
The front door swung open before I could reach it, and Mrs. Moore said, her mouth pursed as tightly as a cat’s asshole, “John.”
I hated being called that.
“Hi, Mrs. Moore,” I said in my best respectful golden boy voice, even though that had stopped working on her, and thewhole goddamn town, back when I was seventeen. “How are you doing today?”
“You’re late,” she said.
Okay then.
The Moores had been cold with me for a few months now.
Scratch that.
The Moores had been cold with me ever since I knocked up their daughter in high school and then refused to marry her. The thing about that, though, was that Cassidy didn’t want to get married any more than I did, but I took the fall because she still had to live with her folks. Mine had already kicked me out when I’d told them we weren’t getting married, so I had nothing left to lose. And I figured it was the least I could do for Cassidy, especially after the whole, you know, pregnancy thing.
But things had really taken a turn for the worse with the Moores when Cassidy decided to go to college. In Maryland. Which meant that instead of me only taking Gracie for some weekends like we’d been doing up to now, I had her during the week and the Moores only got her when I said they could. They hadn’t taken it well. Not Cassidy leaving for college, and not losing Gracie as well.
Because that was how they saw it. Like I was some random asshole who’d swooped in and abducted their granddaughter, but I was her dad. I had every right. Cassidy and I had talked, and this was what we wanted—it was what Gracie wanted too—but Cassidy’s parents were still big mad. Big fucking mad.
“Sorry about that,” I said, stepping up onto the porch.
Mrs. Moore gave me a sour look. “It’s Grace’s first day of kindergarten, and you’relate.”
“Won’t happen again,” I said.
I knew I was late, and I didn’t need Mrs. Moore to tell me I was an asshole. I knew that too. I’d worked late last night—so late that I’d slept through the first two alarms I’d set and only woken on the third—but that was hardly something I could explain. She already thought I was an unfit parent, and telling her I’d beenstripping on the side to make ends meet for a while now wouldn’t exactly change her opinion any.
“Is, uh, is Mr. Moore around?” I asked.
“No.”
I tried not to show my relief. “Is Gracie ready?”
She didn’t invite me in. It’d been a while since she’d done that. I used to make the effort to come to dinner once a week, but I wasn’t welcome now Cassidy wasn’t here. Fucking fine by me. Mrs. Moore’s meatloaf was as dry and unpleasant as she was.
“Dad!” a voice yelled from inside the house. “Daddy!”
And before I knew it, Gracie was bursting out of the front door like a tiny hurricane, and all I could do was brace for the impact.
I caught her and lifted her in the same movement, swinging her around while Mrs. Moore glared. “Wow! Look at you! Is that a new dress?” It was pink and purple and shimmery. “You look like a fairy princess!”
She was almost as glittery as me at last night’s bachelorette party.
“Mommy sent it for my first day!” she told me, grinning broadly.
“Well, it’s beautiful,” I said. “Did you send her a picture?”
“Yep!”
