Page 68 of Timber Ridge
Taking a breath, I tap lightly on the door. “Amanda?” I call.
The crying stops momentarily, then resumes, softer now. I take that as an invitation, pushing the door open to find Amanda curled up on the bed, her face buried in my pillow. She's shaking with sobs, her body racked with the weight of her emotions.
I step inside, closing the door quietly behind me. Approaching the bed, I sit down cautiously at the edge, giving her space yet offering my presence as comfort.
“She hates me,” Amanda gasps out between sobs. “My own daughter hates me.”
I shake my head, feeling a mix of annoyance and sympathy. Amanda often reacts like this, and it always frustrates me. Her dramatic, emotional outbursts seem to demand a response I'm never quite sure how to give.
“Hailey doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t know you,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. “You can't expect a few phone calls and random visits to fill the gap of several years. She's spent more time with Timber these last few weeks than she has with you her entire life.”
Amanda turns, her eyes red and swollen. “So, what am I supposed to do?”
Inside, there is a familiar pang of helplessness. I know she wants me to offer a solution, to tell her what to do, but I don’t have all the answers.
“We start by taking it slow,” I suggest, trying to be as supportive as possible while suppressing my own unhappiness. “Spend more time with her. Be there consistently. Show her that you care. You can’t walk in here and expect it to be all rainbows and butterflies. It’s going to take time. She doesn’t trust you.”
“She doesn’t or you don’t?” Amanda shoots back, her voice sharp.
Her question cuts deeper than I want to admit. I’ve never said a bad word about her in front of Hailey, always hoping she’d shape her own opinions. But Amanda’s erratic presence has always left scars. “I guess we both don’t. You always have an angle, Amanda. Do you truly want to get to know Hailey, or are you just killing time between assignments?”
She shakes her head, her expression turning weary. “I’m getting too old to flit between continents. It’s time I settled down. But it looks like I’m too late.”
Her words hang heavy in the air, and a surge of bitterness wells up inside me. “Do you know how many times she’s asked why you’re not around? You’ve missed most of her life events like birthdays and Christmases. It’s not just about being late, Amanda. It’s about the damage already done.”
Amanda wipes her face, the anger giving way to despair. “I just ... I thought it would be easier. That she’d be happy to see me.”
“She was happy to see you,” I admit. “But building a relationship, especially with a kid, takes more than just showing up with presents. It takes time, effort, consistency. It’s not too late, but it won’t be easy.”
“What about Timber? Who is she to you?” Amanda’s voice is almost a whisper, but it carries a weight that makes me pause.
I think about it for a minute, the answer clear as day. “She’s everything.” My voice cracks slightly, the emotion too strong to hide.
Amanda’s eyes flash with something I can’t quite read—regret, jealousy, maybe both. Then she drops the bombshell. “I’m planning to stay, Kane. I want to be here for Hailey. For us.”
A mix of shock and anger surges through me. “There is no us, Amanda. There never was. I tried to do the right thing once, and you left. You don’t get to mess up your life and then come back and screw up mine. You think you can just waltz back to town, and everything will be fine? After all this time? You think there’s still a chance for us?”
Her eyes well up again, and I can see she’s struggling to hold it together. “I know I’ve made mistakes. But I want to make things right. I want to be part of Hailey’s life. And ... maybe yours too.”
I stand up abruptly. “Amanda, you can’t just decide this now. It’s not fair to Hailey, and it’s not fair to Timber. Or me.” I glance back at her, my emotions a turbulent mix of anger, regret, and confusion. “Get your shit together.”
As I leave the room, the weight of Amanda’s presence presses down on me, making it impossible to focus on anything else. The conversation with Timber will have to wait. Right now, I need to navigate the storm Amanda has brought into our lives.
Chapter Thirty
TIMBER
I lie awake with Kane next to me. His breaths are even, and deep, and comforting. Tonight, he came to me, desperate, loving me as though he might lose me tomorrow. Yet, when morning broke, words of love or invitations to stay remained unsaid. He comforts and confounds me.
I understand Kane’s struggle to open up. The wounds of his past are not easily healed, and his protective instincts are heightened now with Amanda in the house. Perhaps it’s on me to make the first move, to voice the deeper emotions and commitments we’ve shied away from. Do my own fears keep me quiet?
Amanda had slept in Kane’s room alone, a constant, uncomfortable reminder of their shared past. The thought of her presence just a few rooms away had created a sense of urgency, a desperate need to affirm our connection despite the shadow of his ex.
Facing Amanda the next morning is awkward. She steps into the kitchen, fully dressed but wearing one of Kane’s old shirts, making the scene even more surreal. She looks tired, her eyes red-rimmed, yet there’s a determination in her stance as if she’s gearing up for a battle.
Kane and I prepare to leave for the day, him to the docks and me to the community center. Getting ready brings a comforting routine. As I help Hailey gather her small backpack, filled with snacks and her favorite coloring books, Amanda says, “I'm going to keep Hailey home today.” Hailey pauses and looks up at her, then over at me.
The words hit like a sharp stab to my heart. My eyes shift to Kane, searching for support or perhaps a challenge to Amanda's plan, but he only nods. “Okay,” he says, his voice neutral.