Page 31 of Timber Ridge
“Did your mom like her?”
Kane sips his wine. “Amanda is a likable person. I think she means well, but life threw her a turn that she wasn’t ready to navigate.”
I’m familiar with what it’s like to have an absentee parent. I knew from a very young age that my father didn’t want me, and that does something to a child’s self-worth. I suppose not being wanted at any age hurts. When David cast me aside, he destroyed me. “I feel bad for Hailey,” I say, my voice cracking slightly.
Even now, thinking about it brings a familiar ache to my chest. Am I healing? Maybe. But there are still moments that trigger those old wounds, making them fresh all over again. Seeing Hailey struggle with the same emotions stirs up a whirlwind inside me. I want to protect her from the pain I know all too well.
“I do, too, but all I can do is be the best father I can be. It was easier when my mom was here because she had raised a girl, and I could ask her questions. I miss her.” As Kane speaks, I notice a shift in his demeanor. His usually stoic expression relaxes, revealing a vulnerability that tugs at my heartstrings. His words carry a weight of sorrow and longing, and I can see the pain etched in the lines of his face. That’s a pain I’m all too familiar with.
“I miss my mother, too. I’d do anything to have another day with her.” I reach out and gently squeeze his hand, offering comfort in the face of both of our losses.
“Me too. There are so many things I wish I had said to my mom before she passed. Even telling her I loved her once more would have been so good.” He shifts his shoulders, as if trying to shake off the weight of his emotions, and then he smiles. “I should have gotten a few more hair tips for Hailey. I’m a total failure as a stylist.”
Remembering Hailey’s pigtails on the first day of school, I laugh. “You are, but I can show you some easy ways to tame it.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Kane responds, his gratitude evident in his voice.
“Hailey’s hair is a lot like mine. While it’s fine, it has a lot of waves to it. I can definitely help,” I assure him.
“It's times like these when I realize Hailey is missing out on a mother's love.”
“I think you’re doing a great job.” I chew my lip for a second before asking what’s on the tip of my tongue. “What if Amanda comes back and wants a second chance? Would you take her back?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “Not for me. I’m a once burned, twice shy guy. But if she came back for Hailey and genuinely wanted to make things right for our daughter, I’d be open to having her around. Everyone deserves a second chance, but she’ll never return to stay. She bounces in and out when it’s convenient for her.”
I want to ask if that bouncing in and out includes his bed. I can’t imagine not wanting that as I stare at this man before me. I’ve only known him for a few days, and he’s got me hugging him on a whim and staring at his lips like they were the only thing in focus in a blurry world. It’s ridiculous how quickly he’s woven himself into the fabric of my thoughts, each thread tingling with anticipation whenever he’s nearby. And yet, here I am, toeing the line between curiosity and restraint, wondering if the same magnetic pull is tugging on him.
“My turn.”
My heart beats double time as I wonder what he’ll ask. Will they be questions I’ll want to answer? As I think about it, there isn’t anything I’m hiding. Just things I’m working out in my head, like the possibility of my father being here.
“What do you want to know?”
“Same thing. What about your husband? If he came back, would you give him a second chance?”
As I hesitate, considering his question, I catch a subtle shift in his expression. There's a look of something in his eyes—perhaps curiosity, or a hint of something more. It's a momentary glimpse into his thoughts, leaving me wondering if his interest in my answer extends beyond mere curiosity.
I think about that for about five seconds. “No, he was all wrong for me. I’m a forever person, and he was a for-now kind of man. Besides, he’s remarried and has twin boys. He’s got everything he wants and needs.”
Saying it out loud is like ripping off a bandage. It still stings, but there's a strange sense of relief too. Maybe it’s acceptance, or maybe it’s just realizing that I’m better off without someone who couldn't see my worth. I deserve more than someone who’s only in it for the moment.
Thinking about his new life, a pang of something—regret, maybe?—surfaces. But it's not for losing him. It's for the time I wasted trying to fit into a life that was never meant for me.
“He was an idiot,” Kane states bluntly.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because he left you.” Kane’s gaze is unwavering as he meets my eyes.
Insecurity creeps in, and I say, “I’m no great catch.”
“As an expert on great catches, I’d say you’re wrong,” he insists, sending a flutter through my chest.
“Who am I to correct an expert?” I say with a nervous chuckle, taking another sip of wine to mask the rush of emotions coursing through me.
“Exactly,” he agrees, his expression unreadable as he turns away, leaving me to ponder the significance of his words. He rolls his glass in his palms, the movement so effortless it mesmerizes me. And then I notice how big his hands are, how they dwarf the delicate wine glass, making it seem almost fragile in his grasp. That’s how I felt when he hugged me—delicate, fragile, and cherished.
“Before I head to bed,” Kane continues, interrupting my thoughts, “I want to thank you for all you’ve done since your arrival.”