13. Harper

“You’re the worst mom in the world,” Piper shouted as she clutched the headrest of my driver’s seat and held on for dear life. From my position outside her door, I couldn’t easily get her out.

My heart pounded and my stomach burned. That was exactly what I was trying not to be—the worst parent in the world. Keeping a tight hold on my patience was getting harder by the second. After almost ten minutes of this, I wanted to yank my daughter out of the car and tell her to suck it up.

But I couldn’t. She wasn’t trying to be difficult. Her anxiety was just so high that her body was experiencing real fear. From my perspective, we were sitting safely in the drop-off line. But Piper might as well have been fleeing from a bear for the amount of adrenaline and fear flowing through her system. So the only option was to work through this.

At least I’d gotten my car back from the repair shop last night. If we had been having this fight in an Uber or a cab, I might have cried.

But I wasn’t crying. It would all be okay. I had already let Little Fingers know Sam would be late, and I’d texted Carolyn, asking her to push my morning meeting back to ten. See? I had my life under control.

“It’s Thursday, Piper. It’s a school day.” I kept my tone calm, reassuring. Although she’d been off on Monday, she’d gone to school without a fight on Tuesday and Wednesday. “So we are going to school today.”

“I. Am. Not.”

She threw a leg out, and I dodged her sneaker-clad foot. Barely.

“You are mean. I need a break.”

You and me both, kid . What I’d give to say you know what, Pipe? I need a break too. Let’s stay home . Especially since she’d been up four times throughout the night. Neither of us was at our best after that. Staying home meant we wouldn’t have had to fight about the dirty purple shirt she’d wanted to wear. Not going to school would have meant not having to braid her hair, which would have kept my arm free of teeth marks. Staying home would have been easy, but I had a job, and she had school. We didn’t have the luxury of staying home.

“Piper.” I swallowed. Then, with a deep breath in, I forced the next words out of my mouth. It was a challenge, because more than anything, I wanted to say yes baby, we can have a break . “It’s a school day and I have work.”

“I don’t care,” she screeched. When she kicked again, I did my best to dodge it, but a woman appeared at my side, startling me, and Piper’s sneaker caught my hip.

I winced at the instant throb. This was exhausting. Most days, I could pretend I wasn’t alone. Like I didn’t feel like I was treading water in the middle of a lake while strangers and even people I knew stood at the shoreline and threw rocks at me. But as I dodged her foot again, I couldn’t get the metaphor out of my brain.

“Ma’am. I’m telling you again,” this stranger said, “you can’t park here. This is a drop-off area.”

If she knew what was good for her, she’d walk away and leave us to our chaos. But this was the third time she’d asked me to move, and she didn’t understand that if I climbed back in and moved this car even a foot, Piper would see it as a win, and she’d only double down when I tried to coax her out again.

I hadn’t planned on participating in World War III when I pulled up this morning. Most of the time, Piper got out of the car without a problem and walked inside. To encourage that, I pulled up this way every day, even on the bad ones, acting as if I was certain she’d get out. And sometimes it was all she needed to snap out of it and feel ready to face the day. That semblance of normalcy, of routine.

“I know,” I replied to the woman I’d never seen before, though I was still looking at my daughter.

The woman huffed. “You need to move.”

I wanted to lose it on this crossing guard with an overly inflated ego. Could she not see what I was dealing with? Couldn’t she wait until I’d gotten Piper out of the car before she harassed me?

From his car seat, Sam set his worried brown eyes on me. They were full of apprehension, but also embarrassment. He hated days like this. I had to remain cool and collected for him as well as Piper, because next year, this would be his school, and the last thing I wanted was for him to dread being here.

“No school. You can’t make me.” Piper grasped the armrest of her booster seat and tugged.

Before I remembered not to use my left hand, I locked it around the other armrest and held it in place. Although the injury was improving and the bruise had started to fade, pain still radiated up my arm.

“Put it down.”

She kicked again. This time landing a blow to my ribs.

My eyes burned. Between my hand and my hip, I was done. I grabbed the seat with my good hand and let my injured one dangle at my side. “Put it down,” I pleaded, my voice cracking.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice called from behind me.

I ignored it. Having a bigger audience would do me no good. When Piper was in a mood as bad as this one, it was a struggle to get her back in control. Dealing with people we didn’t know hovering nearby only made it worse.

My hand was still locked onto the car seat, my eyes on her face, although she wouldn’t look at me. “Let go of the seat.”

The newcomer stood so close, his heat soaked into my back. An arm brushed against my shoulder, and then there was a set of blue Revs headphones dangling between my daughter and me.

With a blink, Piper stopped yanking on the seat she had been trying to throw at me.

I didn’t have to turn to know who had joined us. The headphones were identical to the noise-canceling kind Kyle had given her at Little Fingers.

On Monday, we’d come to an agreement about keeping our distance, and so far, we’d stuck to it. Though Sam and Piper talked about seeing him each day, I hadn’t. So why was he here now?

Piper blinked again, then she finally released the booster seat so she could snag the headphones. Once she’d pulled them over her ears, she shut her eyes and slumped against the front seat.

I should have been relieved. The fight was over, at least for the moment, and I was no longer drowning. But now I was wallowing in the guilt and defeat that came with feeling as if I’d failed my child. I’d fought with her for almost fifteen minutes, yet Kyle had calmed her in a matter of seconds.

I dropped the booster seat and spun to the man behind me.

“Why are you here?” I asked, my tone harsher than I meant it to be.

He held both hands up and took a step back. “Dylan said you were running late because Piper didn’t want to go to school. I’m just trying to help.”

“Why?”

It didn’t make sense. Days like today were emotionally exhausting. I loved my daughter fiercely, but even I didn’t want to be here right now, so why the hell did this man keep showing up?

He took another step back, his palms still in the air. “I just wanted to help.”

I glanced down at the kids. Piper’s eyes were shut, and Sam was watching us. Though his expression had evened out a bit. Lightly, I pushed the car door shut. And then I took a deep breath.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but Kyle, I barely have enough bandwidth to get through good days, let alone days like this, without your commentary.”

His deep brown eyes met mine. The lines around them softened slightly.

“I don’t have anything left, and even if I did, I literally don’t have time. Not for games, not for criticism, not for anything.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. “So whatever you want from me, whatever you’re looking for, I can assure you, I don’t have it.”

The last thing I expected when I poured it all out like that was for him to pull me into his chest. Though that wasn’t true, I supposed, because what was even more surprising was the way my body melted into him like a hug was exactly what I needed.

The second I was encircled in his strong arms, I sagged. Like I’d let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The wall of his chest was the solid support I needed to keep me upright, and my head rested perfectly below his shoulder. It was odd, the way a simple hug made me feel like I wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders anymore. My eyes welled, but I blinked hard, staving off the tears. I was not going to cry over a hug. That was ridiculous.

I forced in a deep breath. Despite my efforts, it was shaky. But there was nothing I could do to hide that detail.

After my second breath, Kyle finally spoke. “I don’t want anything from you, Crabby,” he whispered against the top of my head. “I promise I’m asking for nothing. Just let me be the rope you can grab on to when you need me. Because, trust me, I know what it is to feel like you’re drowning.”

With another breath, this one steadier, I pulled back and tipped my head back.

He watched me with an expression so earnest I couldn’t help but take him at his word. I was too tired to question him, anyway. Too worn out from treading water alone.

Slowly, I nodded.

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Cam’s over there. Take Sam and go.” He released me and tipped his head toward the black Escalade parked in a spot designated for guests. Right where it was supposed to be.

“I can’t?—”

“You have a meeting. I have a free day.” The small smile turned into the kind of smirk he often wore when he was photographed by the media. A playboy expression that said I always get what I want . “All I have is a lot of time on my hands and a competitive streak that just won’t die, so if Piper wants to try to beat me in a battle of wills about school, then I say good fucking luck.”

I snorted, but my mouth unwillingly pulled up in a smile.

“Seriously, you have a busy day. I’ve got this.” He held his hand out, palm up.

It took me a moment to realize he wanted my keys, and when I did, I was tempted to say no. Because this was my job as a parent. But the truth was that I did have a meeting. And I was mentally drained, which meant I was at risk of giving in to Piper. And if I did that, I could guarantee tomorrow would be impossible. Once Piper knew she could win, she would fight that much harder. So instead of arguing, I passed him my keys.

“And don’t worry. I got Medusa handled.”

“Medusa?” I paused with my hand on the door handle.

He pointed to the woman who was standing on the steps leading to the school’s entrance, her face set in a firm scowl. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice the way she tries to turn people to stone with that glare.”

With a laugh, I shook my head. Then I opened the back door. “Come on, Sam. We’re going to ride with Mr. Cam.”

Sam climbed out, hauling his booster seat with him, and took my hand, his expression one of relief.

We’d only taken two steps when I turned back. “Kyle.”

He looked my way.

“Thank you.”

His smile was surprisingly humble when he gave me a quick nod. As Sam and I headed across the lot, Kyle climbed into the car with my daughter and quietly shut the door.

“Next stop, Little Fingers,” Cam called as I buckled Sam into his booster. “That,” he said as I climbed into the passenger seat, “is for you.” He pointed to the cup in the console between us. “Kyle seems to think you like his kind of coffee. Whipped cream and all.”

I rolled my eyes but picked up the cup and brought it to my lips. The truth of it was, I kinda did. There were a lot of things I was starting to like about Kyle Bosco, and that meant I needed to be really careful.