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I look up at him. “Cash, I—?”
His blue-eyed gaze sweeps over my face, lingering on my lips and eyes. He’s intense and always has been—that much hasn’t changed. “Eight in the morning.”
“Eight?”
“If you want the job,” he says, and then, I’m sure it must be my imagination, but I swear he half lifts his hand, almost like he wants to touch me. Cash turns and walks off down the old front steps of my mother’s house.
The emptiness that he leaves behind is as stark as it was when we were young.
I let myself back into the house and sag against the door.
I’m not really going to do this, am I?
Eight
CASH
I keep lyingto myself that I only asked her to be the nanny because I need the help. But it’s a bullshit excuse and I know it. I need a nanny, but having June around is only going to make things hard for me. Just the thought of her, standing there, looking up at me with those pretty green eyes, her blonde hair messy, her lips parted just right, has me on edge.
I stand in the kitchen, staring out the window at Mrs. Crouchbottom’s house opposite, hating that this morning happened. Not only because she got hurt, but because I’m going to have June under my roof.
Under my roof.
This was the one goddamn summer I needed a live-in nanny, and this had to happen. No matter what, I can’t let myself get too close to her, no matter how much I wanted her in the past.
Upstairs, the toilet flushes, and it snaps me out of my reverie.
“Bedtime,” I call up. “I’ll be there in a second to tuck you in.”
“Thanks, Dad!”
I love Alex so much, but it’s difficult to deal with the guilt. If I’d chosen better at the start, maybe she would have a mother who wanted to be a part of her life. I clench my fists, shake my head, and let my anger and frustration drive away the last of my thoughts of June and her lithe, perfect body.
I head up to Alex’s room, which is a mess by my standards and perfect by hers. She’s got posters of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Imagine Dragons, and the Raconteurs plastered against the violet walls, and her clothes are strewn over the back of the chair in front of her desk.
Alex is cuddled up underneath her fluffy black-and-purple comforter—her two favorite colors—and she gives me an impish grin. “Tomorrow is the first day of summer,” she sings. “I can’t wait. I’m going to play BingeCraft and visit with Ganny, and I’m going to—”
“Spend some time outside with friends.” I sit on the edge of her bed, sweeping her hair back from her forehead.
“Dad,” she whines, “I like being indoors.”
“I get that, but life is about balance.” I take a deep breath and study her closely. “You going to tell me what happened today? I don’t want to ground you, Alex, but you can’t pull that kind of stunt again.”
She purses her lips and wriggles downward in bed. “I said sorry.”
“And I believe you, but if there’s something going on at school that’s bothering you, I need to know about it.”
Alex peers up at me with wide eyes but doesn’t say anything.
“Because if anybody hurts you, Alex,” I say, “I’ll fuck ’em up.”
“Swear jar!” She squeaks it out automatically.
I smile. “You have to tell me the serious stuff. It’s our father-daughter promise, remember?”
“Yeah.”
“So, is there anything you want to talk about?”
