Accepting the Fall Read online

  “No can do, bucko. Your kid’s causing trouble again.” Dunnellon raised his eyebrows, the ‘when isn’t she’ left unsaid.

  Zander closed his eyes. If he pretended he was sleeping, maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Savanah stayed with Kevin’s wife whenever Zander was working, and she was always causing trouble. He didn’t know what to say other than sorry. It wasn’t like she listened to him.

  “Dude, she’s your kid.”

  Okay, so Kevin wasn’t going to disappear. Zander sighed. “I know that.”

  “Are you going to do something?” Attitude was definitely making its way into Kevin’s tone.

  “What am I supposed to do? Call and yell at her?” From experience, he knew yelling led to crying on Savanah’s part, and then Zander ended up feeling like an ass. A guilty one.

  Kevin dropped Zander’s iPhone onto his chest. He made sure to not be gentle about it. “Call her. Maybe don’t yell, but you need to talk to her. You know Maria isn’t actually her mother. She’s not our kid. She’s doing you a favor. Do you know what one of those is?”

  It was something he was going to owe a lot of people by the time Savanah was done with him. “I’ll call.”

  “Right now.”

  Don’t brain your coworker, that leads to assault charges and job loss. “Yes, right now.” He had to start the call before Kevin would leave the room. What a mother hen. Curling under his blanket, he listened to the ringing of the phone and half-wished Maria wouldn’t pick up.

  She did. “Zander,” she said, clipped and irritated.

  “Maria. What’d she do now?” He was starting to get a sense of déjà vu when it came to their conversations.

  “I had to pick her up early because she decided to bully a boy on the playground.”

  He rubbed his cheek on his pillow and thought wistfully of sleep. “Are they sure it was bullying? She might have just been trying to play. Boys can be rough.” He was starting to think the people at Ridgedale Elementary were a little too sensitive.

  “Zander, this is the third time this week I’ve had to deal with complaints from the teacher or the office. They’re asking for you to come in, you know? Savanah’s teacher wants to have a conference.”

  Zander grimaced. A parent-teacher conference was low on the list of things he wanted to do. “Can’t you handle that?”

  Maria cursed him up one side and down the other. “She’s your kid!”

  “I’m really busy with work, and honestly you handle more of her school stuff—”

  Maria’s growl—an actual, honest to God growl—cut him off. “Zander Brooks, you shut your mouth right now. She is your child and you will make time for her. I take her to school. I pick her up. I feed her when you’re on shift, and I’m the one helping her learn the alphabet. I think it’s time you start doing something.” The click that followed was ominous.

  Zander pulled the iPhone from his ear to glance at the screen. Yep. She’d hung up.

  There were times when Zander looked at Savanah and saw himself. It was in the way she clenched her jaw when she was mad or upset and the spark in her eyes when she was spoiling for a fight. Unlike him, she wasn’t a shouter. Savanah’s tantrums came in the form of mostly silent condemnation and glaring.

  When he picked her up from Maria’s at the end of his shift, she was in fine form. Lips pursed and nose tilted up, she ignored his open arms and slid into the car unassisted. She grabbed the door handle with both hands and managed a decent slam.

  Zander glanced to the sky, hoping for some kind of divine help, but none came. “Savanah,” he said, trying to engage her after he’d buckled in.

  She turned to stare out the window.

  He curled his fingers on the steering wheel. Everything with her felt like running into a wall, and he knew it was his fault. He just didn’t know how to fix it. It wasn’t as if his upbringing was something to be replicated. Zander knew enough to know the way he’d been raised wasn’t good. What did he pull from, then? Maybe he should get some parenting books.

  “Are we just going to sit here?” demanded Savanah, breaking his train of thought with her bossy tone. “I’m hungry.”

  He started the car, shoving his frustration down. He wasn’t doing enough to expect more of her. Zander was a lot of things, but he tried not to be a hypocrite. “What do you want to eat?”

  Her dark gaze narrowed on him. He knew the expression. She was calculating just how much she thought she could get away with. “Ice cream,” she said finally. “Chocolate.”

  “Maybe after you eat an actual meal.” He stopped at a red light. “I think we’ve got a frozen pizza. How about that?”

  She muttered something under her breath.

  “What?” he asked, startling when the car behind him honked. Right, he got it, the light was green now. “I didn’t catch that.”

  “I’m going to turn into pizza,” she said grumpily. “It’s all you ever make.”

  Were five-year-olds normally so sassy or was Zander a lucky duck? He bit back a sigh of irritation. “Well if you want something else, we can stop and I’ll get it.”

  “I want grilled cheese.”

  They already had the stuff for that, and Zander could make it no problem. “All right. See, all you have to do is let me know what you want and I’ll try.” He smiled, hoping it would ease the scowl from her face.

  It didn’t.

  She supervised from a stool placed at his side as he made her food. Her heels kicked the rung repeatedly, and she was a fountain of criticisms.

  “That’s not how my mom did it.”

  “It’s going to burn.”

  “Why is the cheese white? I like yellow.”

  Zander was going to tear all his hair out by the time Savanah finished with him. “You’ll like this cheese.”

  “No. I won’t.” She crossed her small arms over her chest.

  “I don’t have American or cheddar cheese.” He ripped a piece of the mozzarella and held it out. Her shirt had wrinkled and it appeared as if even Hello Kitty was frowning at him. “Just try it.”

  “No.”

  “But you might like it.”

  “I won’t.”

  He moved the two sandwiches she’d let him complete to the fridge. He’d eat them later. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hefted her from the stool. “All right. Let’s go to the store.”

  Savanah was a drill sergeant when it came to grocery shopping. She sat in the cart and imperiously pointed to what she wanted, and Zander had to stop at every sample station for her, otherwise there was hell to pay. She had no compunction about causing a public scene. Zander wished he could meet her mother—properly, not as a one-night stand—so he could blame Savanah’s behavior on someone other than himself. Zander did not remember being like this as a child, but then again his father would have kicked his ass.

  He’d fully intended to leave with only the cheese and ice cream. Yet somehow, he had a cart full of Pop-Tarts, dinosaur chicken nuggets, fruit gummies, cereal composed of nothing but sugar, and a whole bunch of other things. The cashier’s eyebrows flew up as she was scanning everything, and she smirked widely, winking at his daughter who giggled.

  Great.

  Once he’d made the correct grilled cheese, and Savanah was on her second bowl of ice cream, Zander figured it was time to bring up the problem.

  “Maria said she had to pick you up early from school.”

  Savanah nodded and kept eating.

  Zander scratched at a chip in the black marble counter. “She said you were bullying another student. Is that true?”

  She sucked her spoon clean with a loud slurp, and it clattered against the glass as she dropped it into the bowl. “No.”

  “No, you weren’t bullying anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  Would it scare her if he slammed his head into the counter? Why, why God, did she have to be so difficult? Couldn’t she see that he was trying? “Can you stop one-word answering me?”

  Her gri
n took him by surprise, and he thought, maybe… just maybe, he was finally getting through to her. He started to smile back in response, and then she said, “Nope.” If she were someone else’s kid, he’d be laughing at her attitude. Savanah had it in spades. But she was his, and mostly she made him want to claw his eyes out.

  He wished she’d come with an instruction manual.

  Chapter 2

  At the end of the day, when the children had fled the room in favor of waiting for their parents to pick them up or catching the bus, Savanah still sat at her desk. She didn’t look as if she planned on moving anytime soon. Her pointy chin was propped up by her palm, and every few seconds she sighed loudly.

  Cole gingerly sat himself in the chair at the desk beside hers. His legs wouldn’t fit under, so he had to twist sideways. Savanah’s workbook was still open on her desk, and her pencil was beneath her chair. He rolled it closer with his foot and bent to retrieve it. “Is something wrong, Savanah?” She didn’t thank him for returning the pencil to the groove in the desk.

  “No.” She kicked her foot into the leg of the chair and nudged her pencil off the desk at the same time.

  Cole was starting to suspect Savanah’s favorite word was no. He left the pencil for now. “How come you’re not at parent pick-up?”

  She dropped her chin to the desk hard, causing Cole to wince. It couldn’t have felt good, even if she didn’t so much as blink in discomfort. “Daddy’s coming in,” she said, the words mumbled as she barely moved her lips.

  It took Cole a minute to parse that and the sullen expression on her face. “To talk to me?”

  Savanah rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

  “That’s not how you speak to adults,” he said calmly. Explaining to her that her father was supposed to call and schedule a conference ahead of time wouldn’t change anything, so he didn’t bother. At least he’d finally get to meet and chat with the man responsible for Savanah. “It’s very rude.”

  “But adults do it.” She twisted a strand of her black hair around her finger, cutting off circulation and changing the pigment. When she released it, the color came rushing back.

  “Your dad tells people ‘duh?’”

  She shook her head, dragging her chin over the desk and sending her workbook to join the pencil on the floor. “Mommy did. She liked to yell.”

  Cole’s chest did the thing where it felt like it was shrinking, squeezing him too tight. He opened his mouth, not sure exactly what he’d say but knowing he should say something, when someone knocked on the open door. Savanah swiveled to look, resignation flittering across her features. She didn’t appear at all excited. Cole didn’t know what he expected Savanah’s father to look like. He didn’t really have an image in mind as he stood, turning to face the entry.

  They stared.

  Cole abruptly felt sick, as if he’d been thrown back to being an insecure teenager. The man in the doorway was both familiar and not. His dark hair was on the longer side for him, yet still styled into perfect order. His cheekbones were a shade more prominent, time giving him a harsher appearance, the lingering baby-fat of youth gone. From across the room it was hard to tell if his lashes were still thick and long, if his so-brown-they-were-nearly-black eyes had stopped looking so sad, or if his face was lined from whatever the last seventeen years of his life had held. He was still tall, though maybe with an extra inch or two in height, and while he was still on the leaner side, he’d bulked with muscle. Gone was the gangly teenager who hadn’t fully grown into his frame. His t-shirt, a fire rescue one, clung to him and strained around his biceps. His jeans hugged long legs and firm thighs.

  Time had done nothing to dull Cole’s memories of Zander Brooks, though he wished it had. His stomach rolled, and he had to lock his knees to keep upright. Breathe, Cole, you’re being dramatic. Of all the places for them to see each other after nearly two decades…. It was some consolation, a very small amount, that Zander appeared equally as shocked to see Cole. He stood in the doorway, unmoving and silent, his lips parted. Cole could feel Zander’s gaze on him like a physical touch. It made his skin prickle, his heart skip a beat. He was supposed to be over this.

  Cole needed to find his words. He was a professional, and whatever personal history they’d had, it was just that. History. It was irrelevant in this room. He played pretend with his class sometimes. He could do that now. He cleared his throat, feeling a bit like a cat with a hairball. “Hello, Mr… Emerson?” It was less confident than he’d been going for, but it would have to do. Zander took a minute to noticeably reorient himself. He walked into the classroom slowly. His pace could even be considered hesitant. Cole tried to ignore the observation, the nagging surge of satisfaction that he wasn’t alone in being off kilter.

  From behind him, Savanah snorted. Cole glommed onto the excuse to look away from Zander and turned to her. Savanah’s pert nose was scrunched. “Can I play outside?” she asked, gaze darting between Cole and her father.

  Jesus. Zander was a father. Zander was the father who Cole had been wanting to meet. If Cole didn’t regulate his breathing, he was going to have a full blown panic attack. He’d been in love with one of his student’s fathers. He’d had his heart broken for the first time by him. Seventeen years later and it somehow still stung. “No, but you can use one of the stations,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too strangled. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, damp from sweat. He thought it was possible he’d had a nightmare like this before.

  Savanah pouted but went in silence to the reading corner. She made sure to scuff her shoes over the carpet on the way.

  “It’s Mr. Brooks,” said Zander, sounding much closer. His voice was the same, deep and smooth like velvet. It sent parts of Cole’s insides fluttering in a way he hadn’t experienced in years.

  Cole retreated under the guise of picking the workbook and pencil off the floor. Savanah had Goldfish crumbs littered around the legs of her desk. “Ah, I see. My apologies.” He aligned the book and pencil symmetrically on the scarred desktop. A few of the workbooks pages were crinkled now, folding in on themselves. He tried to smooth them down and noticed in the process that Savanah had been working ahead. He made a mental note of it.

  He was going to have to stop delaying and face Zander eventually. Could he play this off like he hadn’t recognized Zander or was that cat long out of the bag? “Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll be right with you.” He cupped his hand at the edge of Savanah’s desk and used his other to sweep eraser crumbs into his palm.

  “Uh.” Zander coughed, shuffling his feet and rustling his jeans in the process. “Here?”

  Cole managed to look at Zander at last. His lips even twitched into a half-smirk of their own accord at the picture of Zander squeezed into a child sized seat. The smirk didn’t last long. Zander was too close. Cole could make out the nearly golden striations in his irises, could see the slow progression of his pupil taking over the brown. He had a scar at his temple now, a jagged slash from hairline to the arch of his eyebrow. Stress lines looked to be permanently etched in the dark brown skin at the corners of his eyes and mouth. If Cole didn’t know better, he’d have said he was staring at someone in their forties. The years they’d been apart had not been overly kind to Zander.

  Strangely the realization left Cole with a hollow feeling, a tinge of… disappointment, maybe. He’d been angry with Zander with every fiber of his teenage being, but buried underneath had always been a quiet hope that Zander would figure out how to be happy.

  Clearly he’d not.

  Cole shook his head to attempt to get his thoughts on track. It didn’t matter. None of it did. Zander wasn’t now, nor would he ever be, a concern of Cole’s. It was Savanah that mattered. “At my desk,” he said, finally. “There’s a full sized chair.” He tilted his head in its direction, and he absolutely did not watch Zander’s backside as he crossed the room.

  Compose yourself, Cole Whitaker.

  He felt a little more in control—little being the key word�
��when he took the seat behind his desk and came face to face with Zander. Surprisingly, it was Zander who spoke first. “Is this going to be a problem?” His features were set determinedly. Whatever unease he’d been feeling was apparently gone.

  With the question of the hour answered—they wouldn’t be ignoring this—Cole straightened his spine and hardened his resolve. “Of course not. It was just momentary surprise.” Unseen, his right leg bounced and shook with his nerves. He put a hand to his knee to try and stop the movement before it could jar the desk. “So, Savanah’s your daughter?”

  “She is.”

  Cue the awkward silence.

  Cole was starting to have flashbacks to improv lessons in college where they’d stuck them in front of the class and told them to act out how they would manage stressful situations in the workplace. Going against everything he’d been taught, Cole picked up a pen and began to flick the cap. The rhythmic motion helped settle him.

  This was like any other parent-teacher conference. Cole took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “She’s a bright student, but we are having some problems.”

  “Some problems” was the understatement of the hour. Zander swallowed back what he thought might be a hysterical laugh and mentally shored up his thin veneer of calm. Inside he was falling apart, memories he’d shoved deep into old, dusty boxes banging on the lid and rattling the locks, threatening to break free and overwhelm him.

  He hadn’t ever thought he’d see his biggest mistake—his biggest regret, if he was being honest with himself—again. He certainly hadn’t expected him to be his daughter’s teacher. The statistical odds of something like this coming to pass had to be highly unfavorable. This felt like a personal attack on Zander by the universe.

  Cole had grown into himself. No longer was his face an open book, showcasing all of his emotions to anyone who cared to look. His blue eyes were as brilliant as always, dark and crackling with a temper Cole had always kept restrained. His hair no longer flopped, instead it was styled into loose waves and curls, framing his pale features. He wasn’t a beanpole anymore, though neither was he full figured. He had the appearance of someone who was active but didn’t go out of their way to be fit. He was still a good half foot shorter than Zander’s 6’4 frame. The air of innocence which had hung around him back in the day was gone, a wariness in its place instead. Zander supposed that was better than cynicism.