I call Kailyn on speakerphone to let her know I’m on the way to pick her up.

  “How was dance drop-off?”

  “I have no idea how fathers do this. Between the makeup, the screeching, the perfume, and the boys, I’m surprised any parent survives this. And did you know Emme’s already had her first kiss?”

  Kailyn laughs. “You were probably the same age when you had your first kiss.”

  “My first kiss was on a set in front of a camera crew, and it was not awesome. My costar had just finished eating a Big Mac and didn’t think brushing her teeth was necessary after extra onions.” I slap the steering wheel. “That’s what I should’ve done! I should’ve fed Emme garlic and onions for dinner.”

  “It’ll be fine. It’s a school dance. There’s nowhere for them to hide and make out.”

  “I hope not, or I’m going to spend a few years in prison. Oh, and thanks for letting me know you’d had the sex talk with Emme.”

  “I told her she was special and all of her firsts should be with someone who cares about her.”

  “Oh, well, that was a lot better than what I would’ve said, and it’s a little disturbing that you’ve already had that talk with her and she’s only in eighth grade.”

  “There are a couple of girls in her class who have had sex already.”

  “Please don’t tell me things like this when I’ve just left her in a gym full of hormonal boys.”

  “She’s not interested. You’re safe. For now.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. I’ll have a beer waiting for you when you get here to offset the anxiety.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

  “I might need something stronger.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Less than ten minutes later I pull into Kailyn’s driveway. It’s not too far from my place, but in a more modest subdivision. She lives in a bungalow with pretty flowers lining the front walk. Everything is neat and well maintained, as I’d expect from her. Her cats eye me suspiciously from the windowsill inside the house.

  The anxiety over Emme and the dance is forgotten as soon as the door swings open. Kailyn is wearing a very sexy royal-blue dress that hugs every single one of her very lush, very hot curves. She’s barefoot on the hardwood floor. She holds out a wineglass. “Sadly wine is the strongest thing I have.”

  “This right here is the ultimate in archaically sexist male fantasies.” What I wouldn’t give to be greeted every damn day of my life by this exact sight.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Nothing. Thank you. You look incredible and I care about you and I think you’re very special.” I pluck the glass from her hand and set it on the side table so her hands are free and I can kiss her. “I also think it would be a very good idea to call the restaurant and push our reservation back so I can show you exactly how special I think you are.”

  Kailyn grins against my lips. “Don’t think you can manage making it through dinner before you see what kind of panties I’m wearing?”

  “Are they cheekies?”

  She laces her fingers through mine. “Why don’t you come upstairs and find out.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dinner Date Disaster

  Kailyn

  Dax does a very thorough job of showing me exactly how special he thinks I am. We don’t leave for the restaurant until almost nine. My hair is a little wild from his hands having been in it, but he’s much more relaxed and I’m feeling pretty damn fantastic myself.

  He takes me to a lovely, very exclusive restaurant that I would never be able to afford. We talk about my pro bono case and how excited I am that it looks like this little boy will have a permanent home soon. I love Dax’s attentiveness and enthusiasm for the things I’m passionate about. He makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room when we’re together like this. Despite the attention he sometimes gets, I never have to fight for his. As difficult as the road ahead of us may be, I can see a future unfolding with him.

  We’re halfway through our meal when he gets a call from Ainsley’s mother. I assume it’s to let him know they’re home from the dance. At least until his expression becomes incredulous.

  “They got caught with what? Where did they get it? Emme? Are you sure? We’re on our way. No. No. I’m so sorry. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  He throws his napkin on the table and shoves his chair back.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  “They got caught with alcohol at the dance.”

  “The girls?”

  “Yes. We have to go. I need to settle the tab.”

  I put a hand on his arm. “You get the car, I’ll settle the tab.”

  His phone rings again; this time it’s the school. He purses his lips and nods, bringing the phone to his ear as he heads for the door. I quickly pay the bill, leaving our half-eaten dinner at the table, and meet him in front of the restaurant. If I hadn’t been on my second glass of wine, I would offer to drive. I check my phone and find the school has also called me.

  Dax grips the steering wheel. “I can’t believe this. How is this happening? How the hell did I miss this?”

  “What happened? Where did the girls get alcohol from in the first place?”

  “All I know so far is that they found a bottle of vodka in Emme’s backpack.”

  “That doesn’t sound like something she would do.”

  Dax runs an anxious hand through his hair. “Where would she even get a bottle of vodka?”

  “Do you have a liquor cabinet at home?”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t go in it. At least I didn’t think she did. Now I have to wonder what else I don’t know.” He hits the brakes when the light turns red and slams his palm against the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.” I put a hand on his forearm but he shakes me off.

  “What kind of reasonable explanation can she possibly have for stealing a bottle of vodka?”

  “I don’t know, Dax, but you need to calm down before you go in there. Otherwise it could make the problem a whole lot bigger.”

  He doesn’t respond, just grips the steering wheel tighter. I don’t want to interfere, but going in elevated isn’t a good way to manage what will be a sensitive situation. He pulls into the parking lot and screeches into an empty space.

  Before he can get out of the car, I curve my palm around the back of his neck. “Dax.”

  His jaw clenches but he turns his frustrated gaze on me. Dax has never been silent, and I don’t like not knowing where he’s gone in his head.

  “I need you to take a breath. Emme is a good kid going through a rough time. You’re a good brother learning how to be a dad. Find out all the facts before you react to the few you know.”

  He closes his eyes and exhales a slow breath. “I’m trying, Kailyn.”

  “I know you are.”

  “All I wanted was a night to be me.”

  There’s so much more in that single admission. His guilt over wanting that time fills the space around him, and I’m certain he’s already blaming himself for what’s happened. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have that.”

  His phone buzzes again. “I need to go in there and find out what’s going on.”

  “I can come with you, if you want.”

  He nods and I look away, hiding my relief. I want to be there in case he loses his cool, which seems likely based on how edgy he is. We enter the school through the front doors. The lot is mostly empty and the school is fairly dark, apart from the front foyer.

  We head for the office. A group of adults mill around the front desk, including a set of police officers, while four girls sit in the chairs, none of them talking.

  “Dad!” Emme shoots up out of her chair and rushes over to Dax. Surprise registers when she realizes I’m with him. Her eyes are red rimmed and puffy, the makeup she put on while we were on video chat smudged.

  She throws her arms around him and for a moment he just stands there, frozen. And then I realize why: She called him Dad, not Dax. It’s an easy slip, especially in a state of duress. He hugs her back, his face tight and ashen.

  “You’re finally here. What took you so long, Daxton?” His aunt Linda steps out from behind one of the police officers. While I haven’t seen her since the last school-related incident, I still receive weekly emails inquiring about the safety of the trust and whether the funds are being allocated properly. We’re still waiting on a date for the custody hearing, hoping Linda’s going to drop it, although it seems unlikely at this point.

  “I came as soon as I was called, which was only twenty minutes ago.”

  “You live minutes from the school,” she points out.

  He motions to his dress pants and tie. “I was out for dinner, not that it’s any of your business. Why are you here?”

  Linda presses her hand to her chest. “I volunteered to supervise the dance, and when they couldn’t reach you at home, they asked me to step in.”

  “Let’s go into my office where we can discuss the issue in private.” Mr. Proctor motions to his open door.

  There’s a murmur of agreement and we file into the office. It feels claustrophobic with the solemn police officers and so many people stuffed into the room.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Hughes.” Mr. Proctor offers.

  “I’m good standing, thanks.”

  I put a hand on his arm, a silent warning to keep his cool before I take a seat next to Emme. Dax stands behind her, a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  “I’d like an explanation for what’s happened here,” Dax says.

  According to the principal, Linda was on door duty and noticed the girls going back and forth to the bathroom a number of times. Emme’s locker is near the girls’ bathroom and there’s no locker access during the dance, which makes sense, but Emme went to hers twice, so they performed a locker search. “And this is what we found.”

  The principal withdraws a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose—expensive for thirteen-year-olds—from the backpack on his desk.

  “I didn’t steal that, Dax, and Ainsley and Marnie and Sasha said they don’t know anything about it, either,” Emme says.

  Linda sighs from her seat next to the principal. “How did it get in your locker, then? Are you passing out your combination to your friends? You know we’ve talked about that.”

  “I didn’t give my combination to anyone! I swear, Dax. I don’t know how it got in my locker! I just went in there to get…girl stuff,” Emme mumbles, cheeks turning red.

  “Girl stuff?” Dax seems confused.

  “Sasha got her period and didn’t have anything with her. I wasn’t trying to make trouble, I swear.”

  “It still doesn’t explain how the alcohol got in your locker, Emme,” Linda says.

  “Does this bottle look familiar to you?” The principal gestures to the Grey Goose, looking tired and frustrated.

  “I don’t know. Maybe?” Dax runs a hand through his hair, faltering as he looks between Linda, Emme, and the bottle.

  I silently will him to stop being Dax the brother/father and be Dax the lawyer, who would never incriminate himself this way.

  “Do you keep alcohol in the house?” Linda asks.

  “What kind of question is that? I’m an adult. I can drink responsibly.”

  “What about Emme? Do you let her drink at home?”

  “What?”

  She arches a knowing brow. “She might have mentioned that you let her try your beer, and that sometimes she’s allowed to have wine at dinner.”

  Betrayal flashes across Dax’s face and he looks to Emme. “A sip, not a glass, which has nothing to do with this.”

  “Maybe it does. It’s possible your permissive parenting has led to this situation, Daxton.”

  “Permissive parenting?” His voice rises, and the officers observing from the corner straighten and frown. “Who the hell are you to talk? You have two kids who live on the other side of the country because they couldn’t get away from you fast enough. And didn’t Samantha get pregnant before she was even done with high school? Before you start dissecting my parenting skills, you might want to take a look at your own.”

  “Mr. Hughes, please lower your voice.”

  Dax turns his angry glare on the principal. “My sister is being accused of bringing alcohol to a dance and she said it wasn’t hers, so I’d like to know how the hell it got there.”

  “Emme, could you please take a seat in the waiting room?” Mr. Proctor’s smile is tight.

  “Yes, sir,” she mumbles. Her wide, scared eyes find mine before she leaves the office.

  I put a hand on Dax’s arm and nod to the seat next to me. He gives me an unreadable look, but drops down beside me, knee bouncing with agitation.

  “Mr. Hughes, I know things have been difficult for Emme, and I’m sure they’ve been equally difficult for you, but this isn’t the first time we’ve had problems with Emme since she lost her parents. I realize she may be acting out, but the facts remain that the bottle was found in her backpack in her locker. It’s difficult to argue with hard evidence.”

  “You may want to consider the impression drinking in front of Emme has on her, and how offering her alcohol may normalize it for her,” Linda offers.

  “What exactly are you trying to say, Linda?”

  “I’m sure this new responsibility is stressful for you. You might want to look at exactly how much you’re drinking.” She cocks her head to the side. “Have you been drinking tonight? Is it even safe for Emme to ride home with you?”

  Dax grips the arms of the chair as if he’s about to push out of it. “Are you kidding me?”

  I slip my fingers between his, hoping to help keep him in check. I’ve never seen Dax go off, but I have a feeling that if he’s pushed much further, he will. “Dax had a single glass of wine with dinner. He’s perfectly capable of driving. As for the bottle of vodka, he’ll clearly talk to Emme about the origins. I think needling Dax is unnecessary, and it would be more helpful to discuss the consequences of Emme’s actions. We have officers present, and I’m curious as to their role here.”

  “We’re here to mediate, ma’am.”

  “Mediate?”

  “Ms. Thrasher indicated there might be some hostility over her presence.”

  And of course Dax walked right into that trap.

  His fingers clench around mine and I squeeze back, a silent message to keep his temper on lockdown.

  “Well, based on the accusations here, I think there might be some legitimacy to that hostility.” I motion to the people in the room. “Can we discuss the consequences for possession of alcohol?”

  “She’s facing a three-day suspension minimum.”

  “And there’s an appeal process?” I ask.

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  I cut the principal off midsentence. “As the conservator, I speak for Emme, so I’d like to request that you forward that information to me and Daxton. In the meantime we’ll take Emme home and see if we can’t get to the bottom of this on our own.”

  “Is Daxton fit to drive? Are you?” Linda spits out.

  “As I said, Daxton had one glass of wine with dinner.” I am concerned about how agitated he is, though.

  “Maybe a Breathalyzer test would be advisable, considering the circumstances.” Linda looks to the officers with wide, imploring eyes. “I only want to keep Emme safe.”

  Daxton barks out a humorless laugh. “Of course you do.” He looks to the officers. “Since Emme’s safety is always my top priority, I’ll gladly take a Breathalyzer test.”

  I’m relieved he doesn’t put up a fight, and we follow the officers, with Emme in tow, to the police car. Dax passes the test. While they’re at it, they test Emme as well, twice. It appears she hasn’t consumed any alcohol, but it still doesn’t explain where the vodka came from. Dax is fuming as we cross the parking lot, the situation having pushed him to the edge.

  “Are you calm enough to drive?” I ask when we reach the car.

  “I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth.

  I open the door and slide the seat forward—Dax drove the Audi tonight, the non-family-friendly vehicle. Emme gives me an imploring, tearful look as she gets in.

  “I’ll sit in the back with Emme.”

  Dax wears an impassive expression as I awkwardly fold myself into the back seat, then closes the door.

  “I really didn’t steal the vodka. I don’t even like the way it smells, Kailyn,” Emme murmurs through her tears.

  “We’ll get it figured out.” I squeeze her hand in reassurance, wanting to provide whatever comfort I can.

  Dax climbs into the front seat, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as he buckles himself in and starts the car. I note the nearly imperceptible shake in his hands as he grips the wheel.

  We start out heading toward Dax’s place, but when he makes a right a few blocks earlier than he should, Emme perks up anxiously. “Where are we going?”

  “To drop off Kailyn,” Dax says flatly.

  “Can’t she come home with us? Can’t you come to our place?” Her eyes are watery, bottom lip trembling.

  “Kailyn’s already done enough tonight. We need to deal with this as a family, Emme.”

  The words feel like bricks dropping on my chest.

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t take the vodka! Please, Dax. Someone must’ve put it in there when I was in the dance! You have to believe me. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

  Tears stream down her face, and I put a consoling arm around her. When we’re stopped at a light, I try to catch Dax’s gaze in the rearview mirror, but he’s stone-faced, hands on the wheel, eyes fixed straight ahead.

  “Can you think of anyone who might have your locker combination?” I ask quietly.

  Emme sniffs, picks up her bag from the floor and rifles through it. “I keep my lock code in my agenda, maybe someone got it from there? Maybe I left it in one of my classes?” She looks so hopeful, but it disappears as soon as she finds her agenda in her backpack. Her frown deepens as she continues to rummage. “I’m missing a book. My journal isn’t in here.”