I shake my head, slumping back in my chair. “Nothing.”
“Uh-huh…”
I smile. “I just got invited to a birthday party for my friend’s kid, but I’m on call this weekend.”
“So? Just go anyway. Not like you can’t leave a birthday party if you need to.”
“They’re kayaking at Weeki Wachee. That’s an hour and a half away.”
“Oh…”
I nod. “Yeah.” With a sigh, I start typing back a text, but Stacy stops me.
“Hey, I’ll take your on call.”
I frown. “But you were on call last weekend.”
“Just switch me. I’m supposed to have family in town for Thanksgiving, my fiancé’s siblings and parents. Maybe you could cover for me then? I don’t have any cases scheduled, but I’m sure something will come up.”
“Deal,” I say a bit too quickly, a bit too excitedly, and I’m already texting David to tell him I’ll be there as Stacy chuckles.
“Why do I feel like there’s more than just a kid’s birthday involved here?” she teases.
I just smirk, which is answer enough for her that she’s right.
It’s a chaotic mess when I arrive at the kayak rental shack the next morning.
Tucker is screaming as Julia battles him into an infant lifejacket, his little face red from where she just slathered him in sunscreen. David is trying to figure out who will go with who in which kayaks, and the employee trying to get us going is annoyed and at the end of his rope of patience. I offer to help, but end up just being more in the way, so I tuck myself in between our cars and wait for orders.
Amanda won’t look at me.
She seems better than she did last Friday night after her date, but there’s still a haunting sadness in her golden eyes, a self-consciousness in her stance as she folds her arms over her middle and stands away from everyone. She looks like she doesn’t even want to be here.
I’ve tried to give her space, to stay out of the way, to respect the obvious vibe she’s given off. But the longer I stand there with nothing to do, the more I can’t help but look at her. And the more I look at her, the less I want to fight to stay away.
Her hair is messy, tied in a crazy bun with aviator sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. A simple orange crochet sundress is all that covers her swimsuit, the fabric thick enough to where I can’t see the details of her bikini, but the neckline of it low enough to reveal her ample cleavage. Her tan skin glows in the morning sunlight slipping through the trees, and even though it’s the middle of November, she looks like a hot summer day.
“Fuck it,” I mumble to myself, and then I’m heading toward her.
Her eyes snap to mine, something between a warning and a smile plaguing her features.
But then, an old Cadillac whips into the parking lot, gravel crunching and dust clouding as it pulls in right next to David’s Subaru.
I cough against the dust, waving it out of my face as Tucker screams even more. I’m ready to lay into whoever this asshole is, but the moment he steps out of the car, all ability to speak leaves me.
The last time I saw Josh Parks, he was drunk out of his mind, eyes red and glazed as he screamed at Amanda in their kitchen. I remember the scene like it happened just last night, the way his hands made an indent in the flesh of her arms, how her head smacked against one of the kitchen cabinet handles on her way down to the ground when he threw her.
My entire body tenses at the memory, fight or flight kicking in — with a particular emphasis on the fight side of things. And when Josh shuts his car door and hangs his arm over the top of his car with a shit-eating grin, a toothpick in his mouth and a beer can in his hand, I have to turn away to stop myself from following through with that gut instinct.
“Well, well,” he says as I march toward David. “Isn’t this the picture-perfect family affair?”
“Hey, Dad,” David says. “I’m just getting the kayaks situated. Give me a sec—whoa!”
I grab him by the arm and pull him out of earshot, keeping my back to the rest of the family as I lower my voice.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
David shrugs out of my grip. “What do you mean? He’s my father, Greg. It’s his grandson’s birthday.”
I grit my teeth, because I have no right to be upset or fight him on this. He’s right. It is his dad. It wouldn’t be fair for him not to be included today.
But it’s not fair to Amanda that he is.
“What about your mom?”
David shakes his head, confused. “What about her? She knew he was coming.”
I blanch at that. “She did?”
“Of course.” David smiles a little then, clamping his hand over my shoulder. “Hey, I know she’s like a mom to you, too.”
I grimace.
“And I appreciate you being protective. But she’s stronger than you think. She can handle being around him for a family event.”
I let out a slow exhale, turning just enough to glance at Amanda, who’s watching me in return.
David squeezes my shoulder again, forcing my attention back to him. “It’s all good, alright? Now, let me get this situated so we can get on the water.”
He releases me, and I stand there where he left me, nodding and trying to calm myself down. Josh doesn’t even attempt to hide his obvious glare at Amanda. He just hangs there on his car, drinking and letting his eyes rake over her with a sneer on his face.
I’m about two seconds away from blackening both of his eyes so he can’t see anything anymore when David comes back with lifejackets, and he hands one out to each of us.
“You don’t have to wear them, but you need to have them in the kayak with you,” David says. “Also, there was a mix up with the reservation, and we got two tandems and one solo instead of one tandem and three solos.”
“Tandem?” Amanda asks.
“A two-seater,” Julia explains.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to work out with them, to fix that, but they’re completely booked today. So, we’re just going to have to make do.”
“Amanda can ride with me,” Josh offers, a smiling baby Tucker hanging on his hip now. The sight of him drinking a beer and holding a baby makes me grit my teeth.
Amanda immediately scoffs, then forges ahead toward where the employee has the first tandem kayak ready to go. “I’ll ride with Greg.”
She doesn’t wait for me to respond, just marches straight past me and hops into the front of the kayak. I jump into action as soon as she’s in, slipping in behind her and strapping both of our life jackets to the space behind me.
“Just idle over there and we can all head out together,” David says, pointing to a part of the river.
Amanda nods, and then the employee pushes us off the ramp and into the water.
Weeki Wachee is a crystal-clear river fed by a spring, the water always seventy-two degrees no matter what time of year it is. It’s a refreshing dip on a hot summer day, but on a day like today, when it’s only in the low eighties and the trees cover most of the river with lush shade, it’s nicer to just look at than to submerge into.
We glide along the top of the water, Amanda steering us toward the spot David told us to wait while I give us the power in the back. We work together to stay as still as we can against the current as the rest of the family gets launched from the dock.