Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Yeah, they’re right over here,” he replies crisply, gesturing with an arm to guide me away from Grace, who’s happily oblivious and searching for fabric to add to what’s likely going to become her new favorite skirt.
Once we’re alone in an aisle, I turn to face him fully and invite him to do his worst. “Go ahead, let me have it.”
Cameron bends down, nearly looming over me, and demands, “What. The fuck. Was that?”
His entire body has gone hard as stone and his eyes stare into my soul. I don’t flinch, and I don’t back down. Hell, I might actually lean into it… just a little. Because on some deep, dark level, I’m testing him to find out where his edge is. Everyone has one and if I know where Cameron’s is, I can stay away from it.
Or push him over it.
Keeping my voice between us, I say, “JT Morrison, nine years old.”
His brows slam down in confusion at my non-sequitur response. “What?”
“I was nine years old, standing in the kitchen, getting a drink of water because I’d been outside playing all day and was hot. That was the first time I heard the word ‘whore’.” I throw my voice, mimicking the foster dad I’d only had for a short while, “Those shorts are way too short, girl. Got half your ass hanging out of ‘em like a whore for the whole neighborhood to see.”
He blinks reflexively at my course language but then narrows his eyes, his gaze hard and unyielding. “I hope you are not suggesting that I would call anyone—least of all, my daughter—such a thing.”
“Of course not. But what you say has power, especially to Grace, and can have unintended purposes.”
Cameron swallows roughly, and I swear he’s pushing down a thousand questions. Finally, he asks one. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
I didn’t expect that to be his concern, and normally, I wouldn’t share this much of my backstory with anyone—especially my boss—since I try not to dwell in the past. But I’m the one who started this, so I might as well finish it. “Yeah, I dealt with that a long time ago.” I wave a hand dismissively, leaving it all where it belongs—behind me. “In the moment, I asked another kid what it meant and she told me. To be fair, the shorts probably were too small, and he probably didn’t mean anything sexual by it, but they were the only ones I owned, so I sweated my ass off in jeans for the rest of the summer. I can’t even tell you what he looked like anymore, but his words echo in my head, and to this day, I still don’t wear shorts.”
“I’m sorry, truly, that you went through that, but that’s not what’s going on here,” Cameron bites out.
“I know,” I agree, softening my approach. “But that was an opportunity to empower Grace to decide for herself, not just declare the skirt to be a ‘no’ off-hand, when all that demonstrates is that you have zero trust in her decision-making abilities.” The accusation of what he was this close to doing is as clear as day.
Cameron’s head whips back like my words are a slap. “You are not her parent. I am.”
“Agreed.” And I could leave it there, but of course, I don’t. This is too important—for Grace. And for Cameron too. I want him to understand why I did what I did, and maybe understand me a bit more too. “But Grace is growing up, and part of that is learning to trust yourself. Sometimes, that starts by falling in love with a ridiculously tiny skirt that you have to perform miracles on to make work. Maybe she’ll learn to choose something easier next time, or maybe she’ll learn the work is worth it when she loves the result. And yeah, that’s a great lesson for life in general too, especially in regard to people.” I eye him like I’m trying to decide whether he’s worth the work I’m putting in here, but deep down, I’m pretty sure he is. Grace definitely is. “Either way, she’ll learn to sew, which is a skill that’ll serve her well for the rest of her life.” I look him directly in the eye and fight to keep my voice steady as I say, “But most importantly, she’ll learn that her dad trusted her enough to not rush in and override her before she’d even had a chance to think it through.”
My breathing is so fast that I’m nearly panting, my heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m certain I just got myself fired. Not because I’m wrong, but because I’m not sure Cameron is ready to hear what I’m saying. I get it… to him, Grace is his little girl and he wants to protect her from everything, even herself.