Page 63 of Timber Ridge
TIMBER
Amanda stands there with effortless grace, somehow making old jeans and a man’s suit shirt, tied neatly at her waist, look like they belong on a runway. The casual outfit, meant to be simple, on her looks intentionally stylish, her sandy blonde hair perfectly tousled as if she's just stepped out of a fashion magazine’s “effortlessly chic” spread.
I catch myself stealing a glance down at my own attire—comfortable, practical clothes that now seem plain next to her curated casual look. My curves, which I usually embrace, are overly pronounced, and so different from her lithe figure. I’m suddenly self-conscious, the familiar weight of insecurity settling in my stomach like stones.
“Hailey, sweetie, come to Mommy!” Amanda calls out with a tone that seems both heartfelt and rehearsed.
But Hailey doesn’t move toward her. Instead, she tightens her grip on my hand and ducks behind my legs. Her little body pressed against mine sends a wave of protective affection through me, mingled with a spike of anxiety. I wonder, will Hailey’s reluctance reflect badly on me in Amanda's eyes? Does she see me as an obstacle?
I glance down at Hailey, whose eyes are wide with a mix of confusion and caution. I try to offer her reassurance, but my nerves are frayed.
“It’s okay,” I whisper down to her, as her fingers clutch at me. Her response is to cling even tighter, seeking comfort in the familiar.
Amanda’s smile wavers as she watches this interaction, then quickly recovers. She straightens and, with a quick, confident step, approaches Kane.
She kisses his cheek as if she had never been away, treating it like the most natural thing in the world to do. The others pause, but Amanda doesn't seem to notice their reaction. She greets Kane warmly, lingering just a moment with her hand on his arm, showing how comfortable she is with him.
“It's good to see you,” she says cheerfully, her demeanor relaxed and familiar. Watching them, I’m uncomfortable. They have a past that doesn't include me. The others look on, exchanging glances, clearly sensing the change in the air but saying nothing. Amanda's friendly manner, however, leaves an undertone of tension.
“You could have called,” Kane says.
“I never do. You always liked my unpredictability.”
“That was before you gifted me with a child and left.”
Amanda rolls her eyes. “It’s been years, Kane. Let it go.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t and I won’t.”
Amanda then turns her attention to me, her gaze curious yet measured. "And you are?" she asks, her tone friendly but with a hint of surprise. The way her eyes scan me makes it clear she's trying to place me in the context of her daughter's life—a puzzle piece she hadn't expected to find.
“I’m Timber,” I say. My voice is steady despite the churn of emotions inside me. “I've been ... helping out with Hailey.”
“Helping out?” Amanda echoes, a slight tilt of her head suggesting she's piecing together the information. Her look is not unkind, but it's analytical, as if she's reassessing the scene before her based on this new data.
“Yes,” I continue. Hailey's grip tightens further, a plea for security in the midst of uncertainty. “I’ve been filling in temporarily for Eliza since she had Cody.”
The mention of Eliza’s baby doesn’t seem to register with Amanda. She doesn’t even look to see the baby Eliza is holding.
"Timber belongs here," Kane says. His tone is brusque yet protective, leaving little room for doubt. He glances my way, trying to reassure me. Despite his efforts, a sudden mix of emotions—jealousy and insecurity—unsettles me.
Kane clears his throat, gently pulling away from Amanda's lingering touch. “You've actually walked into a family send-off,” he informs her, his voice carrying a hint of firmness.
Amanda's brows lift in mild surprise. “Oh, I see. Then, I'll catch up with you at home later,” she responds casually, assuming that the familiarity of their past gives her the same privileges as before.
Kane shakes his head, the lines of his face hardening. “You can’t stay there, Amanda. It’s not just my place anymore.”
“Why not?” Amanda’s voice sharpens. “Hailey is there, and I’m her mother. I need to be by my daughter.”
From the side, I watch the exchange, a knot tightening in my stomach. The way Amanda asserts her role strikes a nerve, reminding me of the temporary nature of my own position within this new family dynamic. How much I'll miss being part of this household tugs at my thoughts. Even though Kane is not welcoming her with open arms, I wonder if in my absence they will bridge this gap between them. Maybe it would be good for Hailey, I tell myself, trying to find consolation in the possibility.
Kane looks visibly conflicted, his eyes flicking toward me briefly before returning to Amanda. “Things have changed, Amanda. We need to talk about arrangements that work for everyone. You can’t assume things will go back to how they were.”
The tension between them hangs in the air, and I'm both protective of our shared life with Hailey and deeply anxious about the impact of Amanda's return.
Kane turns to Finn. “You got any space in your cabins?” he asks.
Finn rubs the back of his neck, looking apologetic. “Not for a few weeks,” he responds, his tone indicating he wishes he could do more.