she hadn’t been able to fit into her jeans yesterday morning. When Pops gave you one of his hard, long hugs, you knew you were loved no matter what.
“We can finish our game tomorrow,” she told him, her face pressed into his chest, her words muffled.
He gave her forehead a smacking kiss before letting her go. “Don’t you worry about that. You just enjoy spending time with your father and grandparents.”
She didn’t want to enjoy her time with them. She wanted the night to be over with already and it hadn’t even started yet.
Out on the porch, she sat on the top step with her back against the rail, her legs straight. Sliding her bag over to her, she unzipped it and pulled out her book, but when she realized she’d read the same page three times and couldn’t remember anything about it, she slammed it shut. Usually she had no problem losing herself in a book no matter what was going on around her. Until today.
And it was all her dad’s fault.
A bunch of kids she recognized from the school bus yelled and called to each other as they rode their bikes past Pops’s house.
Bree could be riding bikes with her own friend right now. Cailley had invited her to hang out at her house this afternoon but she hadn’t asked until after Bree had mentioned her dad was picking her up at three-thirty.
Bree picked at a paint chip on the rail with her thumbnail. All her classmates—and even some of her teachers—wanted to meet him. They were probably only nice to her because they thought she’d introduce them or get him to sign a stupid hockey puck or something. They all thought he was cool, just because he played a professional sport. They didn’t know what he was really like.
Come to think of it, Bree realized with a frown as she brushed the paint chips off her pants, neither did she.
Oh, he called her once a week—every Sunday night at nine, even though her mom had told him like a million times it was too late for long phone conversations.
That’s probably why he did it. Because he knew Bree wouldn’t be able to talk long.
And he sent these expensive, totally lame presents on her birthday and holidays. When he was in town, he did the whole Dad Thing of pretending he wanted to spend time with her when all they ever did was hang out at Grandpa Carl and Grandma Gerry’s house.
But it was better than when she used to fly out to Seattle. Her grandparents or Aunt Fay would go with her, saving her from being bored to death waiting for her dad to be done working. He never was. There were always games, practices and training, interviews and photo shoots for ads and commercials to be taped.
The worst times were when his last girlfriend had insisted Bree needed to spend more time with them. As if they were a real family or something.
She had the only family she needed right here in Shady Grove, thank you very much.
Gretchen was nice enough, and pretty as a movie star. But if she’d been hoping to get on Neil’s good side by being nice to his kid, she shouldn’t have wasted her time. They broke up after a whole three months of being together.
A fancy red sports car slowed on the road then signaled that it was turning into the driveway. Bree’s heart pounded. He was here.
She yanked open the book and held it so close to her face, the words were blurred. From the corner of her eye, she watched him get out of the car. The girls in her class all thought he was superhot, which was gross. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was Channing Tatum or something. He was just her dad.
“Hi,” he said as he approached, watching her warily. He did that a lot. Watched her as though she was some wild animal and he wasn’t sure if she was dangerous or not. Or how close he wanted to get. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and frowned. “You cut your hair.”
She touched the top of her head then curled her fingers into her palm. One of the actresses on Bree’s favorite TV show had short hair. It was all sleek and shiny with sharp edges that accentuated the actress’s eyes and long neck. Too bad the same style on Bree, with her round face and stupid lumpy body, made her look