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Tara giggled to my right. “I bet you’d rock an apron. Christmas is around the corner, just saying.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Shit. You would.” I groaned. “You’re prematurely grounded.”

My daughter jabbed an elbow to my ribs, hard enough to make me wince. The girls had a Radiohead CD playing in the background as the countertop fell victim to flour dust, butter puddles, and a slew of dirty pots and dishes.

The doorbell rang, and Tara straightened to a statue, the color draining from her face. “Oh, God…it’s Josh. Josh is here. To eat food. With me.”

“That was the plan,” I mumbled, eyeing the door across the way and watching his shadow move behind the distorted glass.

Her fucking date.

Nothing in the parenting books and Dad manuals could prepare me for the feeling of dread that came along with watching my teenage daughter navigate the merciless world of dating.

Whit had told me she’d put her on the pill.

I wanted to puke.

“I’ll get the door.” I swiped my hands down the pair of blue jeans I’d changed into.

“Like hell you will. Move aside.” Tara shoved past me, barreling ahead toward the foyer.

I sighed, watching her prance away as she fiddled with her freshly permed hair. “I don’t like him,” I muttered to Whitney.

“Of course you don’t. Prince Charming could walk through that door, and you’d still say, off with his head.”

“Yep.” I mashed the dough with more force than necessary. “Princes are overrated and never charming.”

“You know what I mean.”

Whitney washed her hands in the sink before sending me a smile and joining Tara at the front door.

Left alone in the kitchen with Halley—me, stewing in my toxic fatherly instincts, and Halley, filling perogies with potato-infused filling—I pressed forward on the countertop and sent her a narrowed glance. “Thoughts on Josh.”

Her chin popped up as she blinked over at me. “He’s cute.”

“No. Something else.”

A smile slipped, and she swished a piece of rogue hair out of her eyes with a jerk of her head. “Okay, well, he’s on the honor roll. He carries her books for her in the hallway at school,” she told me. “Oh, and yesterday he shoved some jock up against the lockers, after the guy made a suggestive comment about her.”

My eyes thinned to slits. “So, he’s violent.”

“Protective.”

“I hate him.”

Halley giggled, her easy laughter relieving my tension and softening my rigid stance. I hadn’t heard her laugh much lately; she’d been so focused, driven, and serious. Preoccupied with her job at the animal hospital, schoolwork, and self-defense training. She wasn’t the wilting flower I’d come to know months ago, but shadows still curled around her, suffocating her bright spirit.

I latched onto the lighter mood. “Will you be my eyes when I’m not around?”

“Your eyes?”

“Yeah. My wing-woman.”

Her cheeks pinkened as she swiped a smear of flour off her cheekbone. The action only added more flour. “Nope. Sorry. My loyalty lies with Tara.”

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