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Seeing her standing there hits me in the chest with the force of a train.
How can this be Estelle’s daughter? Of course, I’ve been told that she’s seventeen years old, and only a matter of a week from turning eighteen, but I hadn’t pictured what looked like a grown woman to be suddenly under my guardianship. I’d expected for her to still be the round-cheeked child from my memories—she’s anything but.
She has a stubborn angle to her jaw, and her arms are folded across the top of her breasts. One long, tanned leg is slightly in front of the other, a denim-clad hip jutting out. She doesn’t smile, and I remind myself that this girl has just lost her mother.
I glance over at the trailer. Truthfully, I’d hoped to never see the place again. My memories of it—what few I have—aren’t good. Is Estelle’s body still inside there, or have they taken it away already?
I dig inside myself for any emotion Estelle’s death might conjure in me, but the truth is, I feel nothing. She’s barely even crossed my thoughts over the past fourteen years, ever since I walked out and didn’t look back. One emotion I do feel, however, is guilt. I let this girl down fourteen years ago, and now I want to make it up to her. Fuck. Who am I kidding? I highly doubt that’s going to happen. She’ll only need me for a week or so, and that’s nowhere near enough time to make up for years of abandonment.
I offer her a smile. “I’m Reed Riviera. I guess I’m your stepfather.”
The words feel strange in my mouth. How can I be stepfather to this spikey young woman?
“Only legally,” she replies, holding my eye. “But otherwise, you don’t get to call yourself that. I haven’t seen you in, what? Fourteen years?”
I break the eye contact first, glancing toward the ground. “No, I guess not. I’m sorry about your mother.”
Her face tightens, her lips thinning, nostrils flaring. She blinks several times, and I can tell she’s fighting tears. I wonder what kind of life she’s been living. Had I kidded myself that Estelle would have sorted herself out years ago? No, probably not. The truth is that I haven’t even thought about it. Estelle was in my past—or at least she had been until today. I’ve been busy living my life, taking care of my two boys. I hadn’t given the barefooted little girl who I had never paid much attention to any thought.
She doesn’t look like Estelle, and for that I am grateful. Where Estelle was fair,Laney is all tan skin and wavy chestnut brown hair hanging almost to her hip. Her eyes are the most striking part of her, though—these I remember from her childhood. They’re big and wide, and the palest blue I’ve ever seen.
She must have her father’s looks. I wonder who he was. Does she even know? I doubt even Estelle knew her daughter’s parentage.
An older, stout woman approaches.
She sticks her hand out. “Mr. Riviera. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
We shake, and I nod my hello. “I wasn’t far away. It wasn’t as though this could wait.”
“As I explained on the phone, you’ll only be overseeing Laney’s care for the next week, at least until she turns eighteen. Then she’ll be an adult and free to do as she wishes. I have given Laney the option of staying with a foster family instead, but she’s said she’d prefer to be with you.”
“Oh, right.” I shoot the girl a look, but she’s not meeting my eye this time. I wonder why she’d prefer to be with me—a man she barely knows—but then I guess she wouldn’t know the foster family either.
“Laney has my number,” the woman continues. “If there are any problems, on either of your sides, feel free to give me a call. I do have some paperwork I’ll need you to complete, if that’s all right?”
“Of course,” I say. “Whatever I need to do is fine.” I hesitate. “And you’re sure it’s okay that we travel around? We’re due to leave Los Angeles the day after tomorrow to go to my son’s next concert.”
She glances at Laney. “As long as Laney can keep up with what’s left of her schoolwork online and we know where she is, it’s okay with us.”
Laney nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”
I look back to the trailer. “What about her belongings? Are there any bags or anything?”
“We’re going to need to send those on to you,” Ellen says. “The police need to go over everything inside the trailer for the minute.”
“Right, I understand.” I turn to Laney. “We can buy you some new clothes. Whatever you need.”
She doesn’t reply to my offer and instead jerks her chin at my car. “That yours?”
“Not exactly. The car and driver are provided by the concert production team.”
“Where is home, then?” she asks.
“We mainly live out of hotels, but we have a house in Maine. Not that we’re there often.”
“We?” Her eyes narrow. “You and your son, Darius Riviera?”
I clear my throat, suddenly awkward. “Mytwosons. I have a boy called Cade as well.” Cade is actually a man now, but I can’t seem to shake the habit of referring to them both as ‘the boys.’ “He’s Darius’s older brother.”
