Second Chance Lane (Brockenridge #2) - Nicola Marsh Page 0,69
his mind and to his mates. It made him feel better to be the injured party, the guy who’d been robbed of a say in the future of their unborn child: poor Kody. But a small part of him had known, even back then, that he’d been secretly relieved Tash had made the choice for both of them. He hadn’t wanted to be saddled with a kid, not when his career had the opportunity to take off. And he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to make the tough decision whether to stay and be a father or head overseas for a chance at the big time. So he’d channelled those shameful feelings of relief into resentment and anger towards Tash. Easier to deflect than face the hard truth: that she’d made the right call in letting him off the hook.
Being older, wiser and having enough money to give Isla the life she deserved was a far cry from that stubborn, self-centred idiot he’d been back then. Time to stop blaming Tash for something he’d secretly wanted all along and be thankful for what she’d given him: a second chance at fatherhood.
A melodic knock at the back door signalled Isla’s arrival and he called, ‘Come in.’
The door opened and Isla appeared, grinning. She dropped her backpack, kicked the door shut and made a beeline for him.
‘Hey, Dad. School sucked but it’s good to see you.’
He laughed and accepted her hug, loving her demonstrative nature, amazed that she didn’t seem awkward when they were still establishing some kind of relationship.
When he released her, he said, ‘Good to see you too, kiddo. Tough day?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Double period of maths, and no PE or drama.’
‘Will a banana milkshake and choc-chip cookies improve your day?’
‘Only if you add extra ice-cream in the shake,’ she said. ‘How’s the ankle?’
‘Not so sore.’
‘What have you been up to?’
Kids asked a lot of questions. He’d witnessed it firsthand with Daz’s two and when the band had done impromptu high school visits. Kids never held back, and their bluntness was a blessing and a curse. You can’t bullshit kids; they see right through you. But still, there was no way he’d reveal how he’d spent his week to Isla.
‘Not much,’ he said, scooping ice-cream into a blender, adding milk, a banana, and a dash of cinnamon. ‘Watching TV, reading, looking at the view.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘That sounds almost as boring as all the homework I’ve had to do for some stupid tests.’
‘Homework is important.’ He held back a smile at his hypocrisy—he’d barely done a night’s homework in his entire schooling life and the plethora of Es and Fs on his reports proved it.
‘Sport and drama are important, the rest of that stuff like algebra will never be used in real life once I finish school.’
Her cute pout was so reminiscent of Tash he had to flick on the blender to stop himself mentioning it. That’s another thing the psych had helped him with: confronting his jealousy that Tash held pride of place in their daughter’s affections because of the time he’d missed out on. Crazy, because Isla had been nothing but keen to welcome him into her life. But that didn’t mean he’d release all his resentment towards Tash at once.
Switching off the blender, he said, ‘Do you have any idea what you want to do after school?’
‘Not really.’ She perched on a stool at the island bench and rested her chin in her hands. ‘I’ve got plenty of time to decide, though I’d like to go to uni in Melbourne.’
Kody forced a smile even as he felt like yelling, ‘No! You’ll meet too many young guys who’ll take advantage of an innocent country girl.’ Which was crazy, considering he’d never taken advantage of Tash. Sure, he’d been more street smart than her, but their attraction had been mutual. The thought of his daughter encountering the big, bad world beyond Brockenridge scared the shit out of him.
‘Or maybe I’ll be a muso like my dad?’
She’d said it to test him; he saw it in the mischievous glint in her eyes. Once again, he wanted to warn her off, to explain the nebulous nature of the music industry, the constant rejections, the pitfalls of unscrupulous agents, the effort required for little return. He was one of the lucky ones, he knew that, but for every success story in this business there were another hundred talented musicians who’d never make it.