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“I’m coming,” Kendall said as she came down.
She wore a navy crop top over tiny white shorts and flip-flops.
“Those shorts are”—I took in the back of them as she walked away from me and sucked in a breath—“barely covering your ass.”
I looked up at the ceiling for guidance.
Her head slowly turned in my direction, and she hissed, “It’s okay for you to swear?”
I was used to cursing from working with men for most of my adult life, and it was hard to break the habit, especially when my temper was triggered. Meeting her gaze, I held up my hands in front of me. “I’m sorry, but I need you to go back upstairs and change.”
She placed her hands on her hips and stomped a foot. “Why?”
“I don’t want to see your belly button hanging out, and those shorts are”—I gestured with my hand—“indecently short.”
Shit. Now I was using words like indecent. I was worse than my father, but then again, he never had a daughter. Anyone would have asked her to change. “You’re nine.”
“So, what does that matter?”
“I’m not letting you go out in public like that.” It was way too much skin, even though she was innocent of what it meant.
Her brows raised. “That’s the style.”
I started shaking my head and couldn’t stop. “Nope. No. Just no.”
“I can’t believe you,” she said when she realized I wasn’t budging from my position.
“If you want to hang out with your friends, you need to change.”
If it were possible, steam would have been coming out of her ears. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
I heard what she wasn’t saying. I’d never been around, so I’d lost the right. “I’m still your father, and you’ll follow my rules as long as you live under my roof.”
I winced at the exact words my father used to say. My heart pounded in my chest.
Kendall let out a scream of frustration and stomped slowly past me up the steps.
“Kendall.” I pleaded with my tone that she listen to me.
She stopped, her hand on the rail, and looked down at me. Her expression was a mixture of pure fury and frustration.
“I just need all your important parts to be covered. If you can’t wear it in school, you’re not wearing it here.” There was so much more I wanted to say. Sometimes she acted so much older than her nine years. I wondered if it was the apps her mother allowed her to have access to her or her friends. I was determined to reverse the results of those influences if it wasn’t too late. It was probably naïve, but I wanted her to stay little for as long as possible. I was fighting against time and the natural order of things, but I had no choice if I wanted to maintain my sanity.
Her expression softened slightly, then she continued up the steps.
Progress. Pride flew through me that I’d set a rule and stuck with it. I knew I’d constantly be tested. Especially since I didn’t know the rules Melanie had set forth. I was bound to have a different approach to this, but hopefully, Kendall would respect my decisions. I only wanted what was best for her.
While I waited for her to change, I sat on the bench by the steps and ran through my conversation with Sophie’s dad, Travis. He’d mentioned how he’d raised five daughters and was happy to help with advice if I needed it. I thanked him and said I’d take whatever advice he was willing to offer. He’d said I needed to trust my instincts, and when I gave an instruction, I needed to stick with it.
That one had stumped me for a few seconds before he added, “They need to know that when you say something, you mean it. Even if you were wrong.”
“So, never admit you’re wrong?” I asked, still confused.
Then he’d chuckled. “Definitely not. In a house full of women, you learn quickly to admit your mistakes and apologize profusely. But what I meant was when you set a curfew, you never give an inch. You get what I’m saying?”
“I do. Thank you for offering to help. I’m kind of alone in this. Obviously, my parents didn’t have any girls.”
“What about Kendall’s mother?”
