After All by Kristen Proby Page 0,54
is not set to private, to tell her she’s cute. To ask for more photos.
And she fucking sent them.
No nudes that I can see, thank Jesus. But more selfies. Lips puckered. Sly smiles.
She’s twelve, not twenty-three, for fuck’s sake.
One guy by the name of JaCoBsLaDdEr2001 seems to be her favorite. She’s chatted with him for days. Going back before she even asked if she could have the social media app.
It seems she downloaded it long ago, then asked if it was okay.
I guess Gabby goes by the motto of ask for forgiveness, not permission.
Some of the content has expired, so I can’t see exactly what she’s said, but then I see that he gave her a phone number.
So I close out of the app and look at her texts.
Yep, there he is.
New York number.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter. He’s sent tons of photos, including dick pics, and asked her for the same.
But she refused.
She did, however, tell him that her dad is out of town and offered him this address so he could come over.
I’ll sneak you in, she says.
“Like hell you will.”
I want to call this asshole and tell him to stay the fuck away from Gabby. I’ll kill him before I’ll let him touch her.
But before I can, the doorbell rings.
“You’re an idiot to ring the bell.” I stomp to the door and jerk it open. “You can’t exactly sneak in, you little son of a bitch, when you ring the bell.”
But it’s not a pedophile standing in the doorway.
It’s Finn.
“Not sneaking,” he says with a frown.
“Sorry.” I step back and let him in, then return to the couch. “What’s up?”
“Carter asked me to check in with you. Rather than call, I thought I’d stop by. Are you okay?”
“Just peachy.”
He stands and watches me for a moment. “I’m going to check on our girl.”
“Help yourself. Good luck that she doesn’t throw something at your head or try to slap you across the face.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters as he walks away. He’s only gone a few moments when he returns. “She’s out cold.”
“I’m sure the tantrums she’s thrown all day exhausted her.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
I shrug one shoulder, then pass Gabby’s phone to Finn. “First, have a look at this.”
He starts to read, then his brows plummet in a scowl as he pages through.
“Open Instagram, too.”
“I didn’t think she was allowed—”
“She’s not,” I interrupt and offer him an ironic grin. “Seems she does what she wants.”
Once he’s had enough of the phone, he sets it aside and rubs his hands over his face. “Do you have any more of that wine?”
“Sure.” I move to go get him some, but he shakes his head and gestures for me to stay where I am, then stands to get it himself.
“What else happened today?”
“So much. I didn’t find out about the phone stuff until just before you arrived. And trust me when I say, I don’t feel guilty for invading her privacy by going through her phone.”
“Nor should you,” he says, his voice calm again, as he sits across from me with his wine. “She’s twelve, Nora. And you’re here taking care of her. You didn’t invade anything.”
“I got a call from the school today.” I walk him through the day’s events, telling basically the same story I told Carter earlier this evening.
When I’ve finished, he sets his wine aside and leans his elbows on his knees.
“I can’t believe she was going to strike you.”
“She was so mad,” I murmur, shaking my head in disbelief myself. “I’ve never seen her like that.”
“Well, you did everything right.”
“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” I admit and stand to walk to the wall of windows and stare out at the city. “I mean, I know that Carter’s a package deal. I’ve been around for a long time. I guess I just didn’t realize how different it would be to fill a parent role, versus helping and picking up the slack when Carter needed me as his assistant.”
I turn to look at Finn. He’s so calm, so collected.
“Obviously I’m doing something very wrong because Gabby’s done nothing but show me that she can’t stand me being in her life for the past week. I don’t know what happened. It’s like a switch flipped, and she’s just angry all the time. That little show she put on at Maggie’s during dinner yesterday is just the tip of the iceberg.”
“It’s a phase,” he says.
“What if I’m not cut out to be a mom?”
There. I said