Chapter 54

Istared out at the city lights, lost in thought and not really seeing anything. I was glad Isadora was giving me a chance. She seemed willing to at least be friends with me. Many thoughts were spinning in my head, but the one I was holding on to was the image of her sitting across from me at lunch.

She had looked like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, but still as beautiful as ever. I was disappointed she didn't want to work for us anymore, but I understood. She wanted to stop relying on men who disappointed her, and that included me, unfortunately.

We couldn't work together, but if she was willing to let me back into her life, even if it was only to co-parent our daughter, I would take it. It was more than I probably deserved. I was going to prove to her she was the only woman I would ever love. I would never betray her. It was going to take some time to win back her trust, but if she gave me a chance, I was certain I could do it.

It was going to kill me not to touch her. Even now, I craved her body. I couldn't get my head around the idea that the last time we were together had truly been the last. I would have taken more time if I had known I would never get to hold her naked body against mine.

I glanced at the clock. It was late. I should probably try to get some sleep. But I couldn't just let go of the image of Isadora, smiling at me. My phone rang, pulling me out of what could have easily turned into a very hot fantasy.

"Hey," I answered when I saw Sloane's number on my screen, my mind going into dad mode.

"I messed up," she whispered into the phone. "I need you to come get me. Please."

"Where are you?" I asked, already moving to grab my keys. "I'll come get you."

I could hear a lot of commotion and sirens. That was all I needed to hear to know she was in trouble. "I'll send you the pin," she said. "Hurry."

I didn't dare ask her what had happened. The urgency in her voice left no room for questions. All I needed to know was where she was, and then I would be there, no matter what.

I rushed downstairs and got in the car, my breath coming fast. I didn't call Isadora. There was no point in worrying her. And I wasn't sure if Isadora was with Sloane. My mind raced with a million possibilities about what might be happening, but the only way to find out was by getting to her.

As I drove through the city, it felt like I hit every red light. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My mind was spinning, the cacophony of worst-case scenarios playing one after the other. I tried to push them away, to focus on getting to Sloane safely. My daughter needed me. That was my only real concern.

I took shortcuts and bypassed traffic where I could. The GPS guided me through unfamiliar neighborhoods, but everything had been unfamiliar since finding out I was a father.

Finally, I arrived at the address she had given me, my heart hammering in my chest. Her huddled form sat on the curb, tears streaming down her face. I rushed to her side, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Sloane, what happened? Are you hurt?" I asked, my voice choked with worry. I held her close, trying to soothe her trembling frame. She shook her head, unable to form coherent words through her sobs.

I scanned the area and saw a couple of police talking to what appeared to be the worried parents of Sloane's friends. An angry-looking man in a bathrobe was standing in the yard with another cop.

"What happened?" I asked her. "Tell me your side in the next thirty seconds before that cop comes over here. I can't help you if I don't know what's happening."

"We were just toilet-papering a friend's house," she admitted sheepishly, gesturing toward the nearby police car parked on the street. "But the guy called the cops, and now they won't let us go until someone picks us up."

I had to force the chuckle down in my chest so she didn't hear it. The remnants of toilet paper hung from a couple of branches, barely even noticeable. I immediately calmed down.

She wasn't hurt. She didn't commit a felony. I took a deep breath and tried to think what a father would do. This was a situation that required some finesse.

"You're on crutches, Sloane. How did you even throw the paper without tipping over?"

She looked up at me, surprise breaking through some of the despair on her face. "It was a group effort."

"So, what did you think would happen?" I asked. "You aren't exactly quick on your feet. How'd you expect to beat a hasty retreat?" I sighed and shook my head. "I didn't mean for that to rhyme. This is actually kind of serious."

She shrugged, her eyes downcast. "It's not a big deal. I was just returning the favor to a friend who got one of our other friends. It was just TP. We didn't throw eggs or light dog shit on fire."

"Uh, that's dog poop, young lady," I said. "And yes, I'm glad you didn't commit extra crimes, but that doesn't make you innocent."

She gave me a sullen look. "I'm not Jeffrey Dahmer. I just threw some toilet paper."

"Ugh, why do you know who he is? What does your mother let you watch?" I shook my head and refocused. Despite Sloane's attempts to downplay the situation, I had to treat this as a teaching moment. "I know you were just having fun, Sloane, but you have to be more careful."

She nodded. "So don't get caught next time? Got it."

"No, that's the wrong lesson. I mean, yes, if you're going to mess around, don't hang out at the scene of the crime. That's just common sense. And just avoid the cops in general." I stopped myself. "I'm getting off track again. My point is, you could have gotten hurt, and clearly, the homeowner isn't happy."

"Because we got the wrong house," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "This is Pine Lane not Pine Street."

I shook my head. "Well, we'll work on your map reading skills too. And I guess that explains the cops. The homeowner didn't just laugh it off like your buddy's parents would."

Sighing, I glanced over at her delinquent friend's parents, who looked irritated with their daughter. I huffed quietly. Clearly that other kid was a bad influence on my little angel.

"We cleaned most of it up after he yelled at us," Sloane said. "But he'd already called the police. I guess no other crimes are happening in the city right now. This isn't a waste of taxpayer's money at all."

"Stay here and let me talk to the officer," I told her. "And if it comes up, just smile and say you're sorry. Whatever it takes to get out of here. You can rage against the machine when we get home."

I left her on the curb and walked over to the officer, a middle-aged man with a stern face. "Officer, I'm Sloane's father," I began, feeling proud to introduce myself that way, despite the circumstances. "She called me as soon as she realized what happened and I came right down."

The officer looked at me nonchalantly, his face unchanging. "We've had complaints about this house before. Your daughter and her friends chose the wrong place to prank tonight, that's for sure."

He was right. They had made a bad choice, but they were not criminals, just teenagers who had made a mistake. "I understand, officer," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "It was poor judgment on their part. I promise they're good kids. At least mine is. This is probably the most rebellious thing she's ever done."

The officer sighed, looking back at the disgruntled homeowner as he gave his statement to another officer. "He wants to press charges for trespassing and disorderly conduct."

My heart sank at his words, realizing the severity of the situation. Still, I had to stand up for Sloane. "It's not trespassing, surely? And there's got to be some leniency for first-time offenses. They're not criminals. We'll clean the rest of it up. There's no damage. I'll talk to the homeowner and get this straightened out."

"You can try." The cop shrugged. "The guy's got a burr up his ass. I guess he gets pranked a lot. Let me know how it goes so I can get on with my friggin' night."

I nodded and walked over to the angry man who was trying to get children arrested. He was middle-aged, with thinning hair and a contentious set to his jaw that suggested he wouldn't back down easily.

"Excuse me, sir," I said in my most diplomatic tone. "I'm Sloane's father. I understand she and her friends chose your house by mistake for their prank tonight?"

He scowled at me. "Mistake or not, it's still unacceptable. This is the third time this month that I've been subject to this kind of tomfoolery."

"Yes, it's quite the kerfuffle," I said, trying to speak his language. "I understand your frustration. This kind of behavior is not something I condone, and I assure you, she will be punished accordingly as soon as we get home. However, they have cleaned up their mess, and from here on out, my daughter will stay far away from Pine Street."

"This is Pine Lane," he said grumpily.

I nodded. "See? It's an honest mistake. Anyone could make it."

"I'm starting to see where she gets its from." He eyed me like I was an idiot.

I swallowed my annoyance and did my best to look apologetic. "Yeah, just know they won't repeat it."

"Won't repeat it? They shouldn't have done it in the first place!" he retorted, his face reddening.

"We agree on that," I said, nodding. "How about this? I will pay for a landscaping team to do whatever you want in your yard. I don't just mean the TP. Any work you want done, it's on me. Just to show you how sorry she is."

The old man frowned. "I don't know. I kind of feel like you could offer some kind of monetary compensation, too. For my troubles."

I laughed, unable to believe the stones on this guy. "No, I'm just offering the landscaping. If that's not good enough, I'll try another tactic. I will hire the best attorneys in the state and we can handle it that way."

His eyes flashed defiantly, but for a moment I saw an unsure flicker behind them. "I'm not afraid of your threats," he spat out, but his voice had lost some of its fiery conviction.

"These aren't threats," I replied calmly. "Just facts. We can all walk away happy or we can fight this in court for the next five years. What do you say? Get yourself some flowers and maybe a nice apple tree for the backyard. Doesn't that sound nice?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as he scrutinized me, his brows furrowed in contemplation. Finally, he heaved a sigh and ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Fine," he muttered. "But I want chrysanthemums. Yellow. Those were my wife's favorites, before she passed."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said sympathetically. "We'll get you as many chrysanthemums as you want. Yellow as the sun."

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned back to the police officer. "I'll drop the charges," he stated gruffly, his eyes sweeping over Sloane and her friend. "Tell them and their friends to get the address right next time."

The officer nodded at the man. "Will do." The cop looked at me. "Take her home. Keep her out of trouble."

I thanked him and got the homeowner's contact info so I could hold up my end of the deal. Then I walked back to Sloane, relieved the situation had been diffused. "Come on, kiddo. Let's get out of here." I ushered her toward my car. "Your mom is not gonna be happy."

"Is it too late to go with the cops?" she asked.

I shot Isadora a quick text, letting her know that Sloane was safe but that she had done something stupid and would explain everything when she got home. I could only hope that Isadora would be able to forgive Sloane's lapse in judgment, just as I hoped she would eventually forgive mine.

When we got to their apartment, Isadora was a nervous wreck. "What happened?" she asked. "Why are you with her?"

"She'll explain," I said.

"Well, somebody better before I freak all the way out," she said.

As Isadora listened to Sloane's account of the incident, her anger was palpable, her frustration evident in the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides. I stood by quietly, letting Sloane explain. When she had finished speaking, Isadora's voice was steely as she delivered her verdict.

"Sloane, I can't believe you would do something so reckless," Isadora began, her tone stern. "You know better than this. You're grounded, young lady. I want you in your room until further notice."

Sloane's shoulders slumped in defeat as she hobbled off to her room, her head hung low. I watched her go, hoping we had gotten through to her tonight.

"Isadora, I'm so sorry," I began. "She called me, and I just reacted. I got everything squared away with the homeowner. It took a mild bribe, but he saw reason eventually. It's over as far as the cops are concerned."

"Thank you for being there for her, Graham," she said with a sigh. "I wish she had called me, but I'm just glad someone with some sense was there to help. I don't know what got into her. She's such a good kid."

"Hey, if this is the worst she does, I think we should be feeling pretty lucky." I shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I got up to no good all the time. Toilet-papering a house was child's play compared to some of the stuff I did."

She cracked a smile. "Good point. Thank you for talking to the police and homeowner."

I shrugged again, although inside I was brimming with pride. "Just doing my job as a father."