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The second her words hit, my body goes rigid.Twenty!She's hanging out with a guy that's five years older than her? What the fuck does hanging out mean these days? My adrenal glands get hyped-up when my brain fills in the word meaning 'hangout' with pictures.
As if she senses my distress, she rambles. "We've only been texting, taking walks, and hanging out at the ice cream shop. Nothing more. We're just friends."
My nostrils flare as I turn to Samantha, who's now picking at the cuticles of her nails while observing me, and the innocence in her beautiful eyes makes me lose my shit.
"I'm sorry, Sam, but I don't approve. I don't want you hanging out with this Leo."
Samantha's eyes turn a darker shade of blue as she launches up from her seat.
"Why not? He's a nice guy, who likes to hang out and talk."
I cross my arms in front of me and shake my head at her honest but naïve words. "Because you're fifteen, Samantha."
"So what?" she shoots back. "Is there a law that says that I can't talk to guys who are older than me?"
The vein in my temples pulsates, and my jaw cramps at her sassy remark. It hurts me to burst her bubble. But if it means it will protect her from a twenty-year-old predator, I will.
"Samantha. Why would a twenty-year-old guy hang around with a girl that's five years younger than himself? It makes little sense. For god’s sake, he's a man in the bloom of his life. He's almost old enough to drink. And I don't believe he's hanging out with you only because he wants to talk."
She backs away from her stool and shouts. "Alisha, help me. Tell him he's unreasonable. You and Amanda met Leo."
My eyes shoot to Alisha. "You've met this Leo?"
"Yes," Samantha cuts in. "And if I want to hang out with him, I will. You can't stop me!" she screams.
Her challenging words awaken my protective nature, and the coffee in the cups shake as they’re standing on the counter the moment my fist hits the surface. "Yes, I can. You're a minor, young lady, and I'm your father. So if I say, you can't see him. You. Can't. See. Him."
"Oh, god. You're impossible. You're judging Leo without even meeting him. That's unfair. Alisha, please tell him he's overreacting," Samantha begs.
Alisha takes a step towards my daughter and touches her shoulder. "Sam. I'm sorry, but I..."
Samantha jumps backward. "You're taking his side?" With glassy eyes and an erratic breath, she shakes her head. "Out of all people, I thought you would understand me." Her eyes dart to me.
When a single tear drops from her cheek, my heart breaks. "Samantha, I..."
"No! I want my mom back," she says in an unstable voice. Her body shakes from emotions rushing through her system. "She was a much better parent than you. I hate being in Boston; I wish that they never found you."
Frozen at the spot, I stare at my daughter, who rushes out of the kitchen while sobbing. I start pacing through the kitchen, but when it feels like I can't breathe, I charge to the balcony.
She hates it in Boston, and she wishes I wasn't in her life. God... those words torpedoed straight into my heart.
A soft hand touches my white knuckles and fingers that are clinging on to the baluster.
"Cole. Talk to me."
"She hates it here," I mumble.
She touches my cheek. "You know she didn't mean what she said. She's blowing off steam."
I let go of the baluster and face Alisha, whose eyes radiate compassion.
"Hey. You are a great parent. Don't start beating yourself up. You handled it right. Leo is too old. If she had been eighteen or nineteen, things would have been different. But she isn't. If anyone should feel guilty, it's me. I'm sorry. I should have picked up the signs weeks ago when she told me she was hanging out with someone."
I bend and brush my lips against hers. "Don't be sorry. I guess we both have a lot to learn about raising a teenager," I say.
"I guess so," she whispers.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I sigh at the intrusive sound. "Guess it's a let's interrupt Cole day." I pull out my phone. "Nick!"
