Page 66 of Scoring Chances

Reece was a mistake. One I've had to own up to. But she's not getting anything else out of me.

I look to the kitchen, and there through the sliding doors, I find Cassidy–staring at me.

Fuck.

I head inside and she doesn’t move from her spot.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?”

“Did she say something to you?”

She lifts a shoulder and lowers it. “Nothing that I haven’t already figured out myself.

I reach for her arm. “Cassidy–”

“No!’ she says, tearing it away. “You were right to stay away from me, Joshua. It’s unprofessional. We have an agreement, I’ll fulfill it. And then when it’s time for you guys to leave. I’ll be ready to go find a place of my own finally. It’s all planned out.”

“I see that,” I mutter.

“So, let’s just agree to be friendly to each other. At least until you leave and then you never have to worry about having another bitter nanny rummaging around for more money.”

“Can we talk about this… please?”

“I came down here to tell you Cole’s birthday is tomorrow.”

“What?”

“His fifteenth birthday. And the first one without his father. I suggest you get your head out of your ass and act like one.”

Now she turns on her heel, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The first birthday without his dad. Technically, all my birthdays have been without my dad. And I turned out just fine.

I think.

She wants me to act like a dad. When my own dad was a grade A example of absentee father. At least I had Oliver in my life to teach me what it was to be a man. He’s the one who practiced hockey with me. He’s the one who taught me how to throw a right hook and work on old cars.

I can thank a man who wasn’t supposed to be my dad for showing me how to be one. And I guess… technically that’s what I am now to these kids.

Even if it is temporary.

I hate to admit it. But she’s right. I need to step up.

“What’s all this?”

I turn to see Cole standing next to the tool box.

“Cassidy told me you wanted to work on her car. Well, let’s work.” I motion to the pieces laid out on the pavement.

“Oh. I don’t know–”

“Cole…” I sigh. “I’m trying here, man. I know I haven't been the easiest to get along with.”

He scoffs.

“But neither have you,” I add. “And I get it. I was your age when I found out my step-dad wasn't my real dad.”

He scrunches his brows and stuffs his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. But he doesn’t leave. He waits for me to say more.