For Lucy

“When you were a little girl, we grounded you after you used permanent marker on your mom’s computer screen, and you blacked out all of her keys. You ran to your room and screamed just how much you hated us. We knew you didn’t really hate us. It was a knee-jerk reaction.”

Lucy nods. “I understand.”

“Listen, Luce … I made a decision the day Austin died. And I knew that decision would likely change my life forever, but I was okay with that. I’m still okay with that. It’s not fun watching your mom fall in love with another man. But today … when you walked with very little assistance, I didn’t think about Austin and I didn’t think about your mom marrying Josh. All I could think about and all that mattered was that girl walking toward me with so much pride in her smile.

“So here’s my point … tell your mom. Don’t tell your mom. But whatever you do, it has to be for you and only you. Not for me. Not for your mom. Not for your therapist.”

She nods again. “Okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“How do I look?” Lucy asks, her hand on her cane a little more shaky than usual.

“Too good for this skate park kid,” I say without a smile.

Tatum scoffs. “Oh stop. She looks amazing, and yes, too good for any boy, but we’re going to be nice to said boy when he arrives. Right?” She shoots me a stiff smile.

Lucy’s too skinny. She needs to build up the muscles in her legs. And what if she trips or falls … is this kid going to catch her? I don’t like this. I’ve never been a fan of her dating. And now that I know she has sex on the brain, it makes this situation even worse.

“The boy has a name. It’s Racer. And he’s very responsible.”

I’m certain no boy named Racer can be responsible.

“And what are you and this Racer kid doing?” I ask, my eyes narrowed.

“Not Racer kid, just Racer.” Lucy makes her way to the front window to watch for him. “We’re grabbing dinner, then we’re going to hang out with some other people.”

“A party?” I ask.

“No. Just hanging out.”

“Emmett, you need to relax a bit,” Tatum warns as she sits in her paisley chair, hands folded in her lap like she’s not at all concerned about Lucy’s date.

“Will there be alcohol?”

“Dad …” Lucy says my name, dragging it out in a long, exasperated sigh.

“Sex?” There. I said it.

“Emmett!” Tatum’s jaw drops. “Would you please stop? This is our daughter you’re talking about. She’s not going to have sex on a first date. Why would you even ask her that?”

I can only see Lucy’s side profile as she keeps watch at the window, but she’s grinning because she knows why I asked. “He’s here.” She turns and heads toward the door.

“You’re not running out to his car. He’s coming to the door to get you.”

“Dad, I can’t run yet. And you have to promise to not say anything but ‘Hi. Nice to meet you.’ Can you handle that?”

As she wraps her hand around the doorknob, she eyes me with that secretive smirk still stuck to her face.

“Do you need me to give you a condom?”

“Oh my god! Emmett!” Tatum jumps out of her chair, enraged over my question because she doesn’t know what motivated our little girl to walk, but I do.

Just before opening the door for Racer, Lucy turns to me and rolls her lips between her teeth to hide her knowing grin. “I’m good, but thanks.”

“Ignore your dad, Lucy.” Tatum wedges herself between us and hugs Lucy. “Just have a fun time. You look beautiful. And if you get tired and need me to come get you, just call. Okay?”

“Thanks, Mom.” She opens the door.

Racer has long blond hair just past his chin. It looks like he doesn’t make a great effort at combing it. His jeans ride too low, and his shirt is three sizes too big. But what do I know? I’m just the dad.

“Racer these are my parents, Emmett and Tatum. This is Racer.”

“Nice to meet you. Enjoy your evening.” Tatum rests her hands on Lucy’s shoulders. “Oh, do you need some money?”

“Dad gave me money,” Lucy says.

“Be safe,” I say, eying only Racer. “Be smart.”

Lucy shakes her head at me. “Let’s go, Racer.”

We stand at the open front door until they’ve pulled out of the driveway in his pimped-out Ford Focus.

“What was that all about?” Tatum turns toward me, arms crossed over her chest.

“What was what all about? The sex talk? The condom offer? It’s called I know my daughter is seventeen. I know what seventeen-year-olds do. I was seventeen once. The question is what’s wrong with you? Do you prefer to turn a blind eye to the obvious?”

“She’s recovering from a spinal cord injury, Emmett. I don’t think she’s thinking about sex.”