‘Fine,’ she spits in that lovely Darcy way before stomping off across the gravel and quickly disappearing into the house.
‘Ryan, I’ve never laid a finger on her before,’ Casper says, setting about fixing himself, too. ‘I snapped. The frustration. The stress.’
‘The circumstances have nothing to do with me. I couldn’t give a flying fuck. Just don’t ever touch her like that again.’ I head back to my truck, but something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. ‘Alex?’ I call, stepping closer to the pillar outside the canopied driveway as she ducks back behind it. I sigh and pace over, my trainers crunching across the gravel, and round the tall stone column. ‘You’d make a crap spy.’ Clearly she hasn’t inherited my stealth moves. I steer her by the shoulders back to my truck. ‘How much of that did you catch?’ I ask, opening the passenger door and motioning for her to get inside. I bend and brace my hands on the edge of her seat, leaning in.
She pouts as she pulls off the black patent-leather ballet pumps and tosses them into the footwell. ‘All of it.’
Shit. ‘Sorry you had to see that.’
‘Don’t sweat it.’ She shrugs. ‘Shit happens.’
I don’t admonish her, not this time, just tug the band from her ponytail and toss the ruffled scrunchie thing on the dashboard. ‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Nah.’
I give her one last long look before I shut the door, then head around to the driver’s side. This conversation isn’t over by a long shot, but I’ll give her some breathing room for now. I start the engine and pull away as Alex rummages around on the floor for some suitable footwear. She finds some beaten-up old red Converses and wrestles them onto her feet.
‘How’s Hannah?’ she asks.
I look across to her, my expression wary. ‘Fine.’
‘That’s what adults say when they’re not fine. Mum’s always fine.’ She waves her arm back, indicating the mess we just left behind. ‘Clearly, she’s not fine.’
I can’t argue with that. ‘Hannah’s good,’ I tell her instead. Very good. That’s as much as she’s getting. I take the bottle of water from the holder between us and twist off the cap with my teeth. I spit it off in Alex’s direction, smiling when she catches it.
‘How good?’
I swallow and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. How did we get onto Hannah, anyway? ‘I thought we were going to talk about your mother and Casper.’
‘No, you were going to talk about my mother and Casper. I want to talk about Hannah.’ She helps herself to the water in my hand and swigs. ‘So talk.’
‘You’re nosy, you know that?’ Fuck me, I’ve faced some uncomfortable situations in my time. Have maintained my expert poker face when on a job, have kept my cool. Yet when my daughter interrogates me about my love life, it all goes to shit.
‘We’re dating,’ I mumble.
‘Dating, my arse,’ she says.
‘I didn’t raise you to talk like that.’ I toss her a displeased look. I know it’ll have zero impact, but still. Who’s the parent around here? ‘Now, back to your mother.’
She looks away, staring out of the window. ‘I just want everyone to be happy.’
My heart drops like a stone in my chest. ‘Cabbage, you can’t control other people and what they do. Life will throw you curveballs all the time. It’s how you deal with them that shapes who you are.’ She scuffs her Converse on the dashboard, her face sulky, and I reach across to squeeze her leg. ‘Mum will be fine.’
‘If you hate her so much, why’d you rough up Casper?’
I don’t know how many times I have to tell her. ‘I don’t hate your mother. I just find her . . . challenging.’ Good choice of word. ‘I might not love her, but I care about her.’
‘Because she’s my mum?’
‘Exactly, and without her, there would be no you.’
I park up outside the cabin and Alex skips across to the shed where Hannah’s bike is. ‘I think we should give it to her later. I’m gonna put the bell on today. And polish it up.’
‘Anything you want.’ I hope Hannah is a good actor. I head inside, toss my keys on the counter, and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. ‘Wanna go chop some wood for the fire?’ I call back as I stride to my bedroom.
‘Yes! Dibs on riding shotgun in the wheelbarrow!’
‘You don’t ride shotgun in a wheelbarrow, Cabbage. I’ve told you before.’ I swap my shorts for some combat trousers and shove my feet into some boots, pulling on a fresh T-shirt as I head back out.
‘Yeah, but it sounds real cool,’ she says as I pass, making me laugh my way out of the cabin. She’s in quick pursuit, racing past me to make it to the barrow. She falls in, her legs dangling over the edge, and collects one of the axes from beside her, pointing it forward. ‘Charge,’ she yells.