Hendrix - Kelsey Clayton Page 0,35

the morning.

“She looks just like you,” Asher tells me. “That picture was a little hard to tell, but seeing her in person, there's no question.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Out of everything she got from me, though, I could have gone without the dimples.”

He snickers into his glass. “Why? They're the best thing about you.”

“I know, but they make it practically impossible to say no to her.”

“Now you know how everyone feels about you.”

I playfully elbow him in the side, but he has a point. I'm no stranger to using my secret weapon for my own personal gain. The fact that Brenna has them too can only mean one thing—trouble.

“Stinky-Pants!” she shouts excitedly after looking in the handheld mirror. “Look at my hair!”

I smile brightly at her. “It looks great, B.”

“That side might,” Tessa chimes in. “But if you don't stop moving, the other side will look like a bird's nest.”

Brenna giggles. “Oops.”

Looking back at Asher, he seems deep in thought. “Stinky-Pants?”

I exhale, still finding it amusing. “She asked me last night what she calls me now, Dad or Colby.”

“And you said...Stinky-Pants?”

“No, you douche,” I huff. “I told her it was up to her, and that she could call me anything she wants, even if it's Butthead or Stinky-Pants.”

Realization crosses his face, and he nods in understanding. “And that's not going to bother you? If she doesn't call you Dad?”

“Eh,” I answer. There's no point in lying to this guy, so I don't even bother. “It stings a little, but I just want her to be happy. That's all that matters.”

The corner of his mouth raises into a smirk. “Look at you, being all fatherly and shit. Who would've thought?”

Honestly? Not me. But here I am, and even if I could, I wouldn't change it for the world. Now if only I could figure out what to do about Saige, because this whole parenting thing isn’t going to work well if the two of us are constantly against each other.

11

SAIGE

Being away from Brenna is absolute torture. I never knew being away from someone for a couple of days could hurt so badly. I even slept in her room the second night because at least then I felt like I was near her.

“She hates me,” I sigh, massaging my temples.

Maddie frowns. “She doesn’t hate you, S. You’re her mom.”

“Then why won’t she come home?”

Originally, she was only supposed to spend one night at Colby’s, but when he tried to bring her home the next day, she was a mess and refused to get out of the car. He did the responsible parent thing and told his coach he would miss practice, and kept her for another night. With every hour that passes, however, I worry even more. Is she eating enough? Is she okay? Does he know what he’s doing?

“Because she’s mad at you, and she’s not mad at Colby.” Maddie grabs her drink off the table and shrugs. “You need to go over there and talk to her. She’s five. You’re the adult here, not her.”

She’s right, but the idea of going to talk to her and being rejected scares the hell out of me. Brenna has never been this mad at me. Not when I took away her iPad for a week because she stayed up all night secretly playing it. Not when I yelled at her the other night for breaking the bowl. She will barely even say goodnight to me through the phone when Colby tells her to.

“It would have gone so much better if Colby and I just told her.”

She shrugs. “I don't disagree, but it's too late for that now.”

I take a deep breath and convince myself I can fix this. “Okay, I'll go over there today.”

Her grin widens. “That's my girl.”

PULLING UP TO COLBY'S, I don't think I've ever been so nervous. What if she doesn't want to see me? What if she tells me she hates me and never wants to see me again? My stomach churns at that actually being a possibility. It's always been Brenna and me. We've always had each other. And now? I can't say for sure that she wouldn't rather have Colby.

I grip both my hands into fists to find some ground and ring the doorbell. It only takes a couple minutes before it opens and Colby stands there looking just as hot but somehow more responsible. He looks like a protective father.

“I just want to talk to her,” I tell him.

He nods and opens the door further to let