Page 30 of When We Are Complete

I finally pull up to the school, and there’s Adele, slumped on the front steps as though her world just ended. She’s wearing a hoodie with high-waisted jeans ripped at the knees, and on her feet are pristine white sneakers—the only thing she cleans religiously.

Her brown hair falls loosely over her shoulders, not messy exactly, but not brushed and styled the way her mom would’ve made sure it was before school. She’s wearing eye makeup and bright lipgloss, but it doesn’t hide her sad expression.

I see the attempt she’s making—to look older, not a kid anymore—but all I see is my little girl, caught between wanting to grow up too fast and not knowing how. The sight of her like this—half-child, half-teen—twists my gut in a way I can’t put into words.

Adele looks up and sees me. She stands, bag slung over her shoulder as she walks toward me. She gets into my truck, her eyes glued to her phone, thumb scrolling through images, screen angled away from me.

“Bad day?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, non-invasive.

Adele shrugs, doesn’t even glance up. “It was fine.”

Fineis teenage foreverything’s gone to hellbut I don’t push it. Instead, I watch her from the corner of my eye as I navigate the streets of Harbor’s Edge.

“You know, if you keep staring at that thing like a zombie, I’m gonna have to take it away,” I say, half-joking.

That gets her attention. Her head snaps up, and those brown eyes, identical to mine, shoot daggers. “You can’t just take my phone, Dad!”

“I’m not going to take it, but it’s time for me to do a spot check. We had a deal, remember? No phones at dinner, and if it becomes a problem—”

“Problem? What do you know about problems? You don’t understand anything!” she yells, going from zero to a hundred in the space of a few seconds.

“Hey, lower your voice.” I try to stay calm, but heat creeps into my words. “I get things are tough at school, but I’m here, okay? Talk to me. I can’t do anything to help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Whatever,” she mutters, turning her gaze back to her phone.

The rest of the ride is silent. When we pull into the driveway, she bolts out of the truck before I can kill the engine, storming into the house. I follow, slower, bracing myself.

“Here, snoop through my phone as much as you want.” Her cell lands with a thunk on the kitchen counter, and she’s already halfway down the hallway.

“Adele—” I say, but she’s gone, door slamming shut in that way only teenagers can manage.

I stare at the phone. This damn device has more of a connection with my daughter than I do. I hate invading her privacy, but we had a deal when we agreed to get her a phone—me and her mom can undertake spot checks whenever we think it’s necessary. I pick it up, thumb hovering over the unlock button before I open it and check the messaging apps and internet browser.

There’s nothing. A few memes sent from friends, a conversation with her grandma full of heart emojis. But her messages with, well, anyone else? Scrubbed clean. My stomach knots. What did she delete?

“Dammit,” I say, setting the phone down harder than I should. I lean against the counter, feeling helpless. The irony isn’t lost on me—a man who can fix anything but his own relationship with his daughter.

All I can do is keep offering stability and security and hope that things get better with time. I run a worried hand through my hair, gaze trailing across the empty room, before grabbing a soda from the fridge.

When did fatherhood become so complicated? I thought I had it all figured out, thought I knew how to be the dad she needed. A comfortable place to sleep. Food on the table, clothes to wear. A safe home where she’s always welcome. But these days, it’s not enough, and I’m fumbling, trying to keep up as the goal posts keep shifting.

Chapter 16

Kelly

The restof the day drags, my mind stuck on Jake—his familiar smell, the way the years have built up his body so he’s stronger, broader. The words he spoke to me.

I’m almost glad when it’s time to leave the office, and soon I’m on my bike and pedaling toward my old family home, the air growing colder with every turn of the wheel as dusk settles over the town. The streets are quiet, the sky painted with streaks of orange and lavender as the sun dips below the horizon. By the time I reach the familiar street, the temperature has dropped noticeably.

I lean my bike against the fence and stand there for a long moment, the past wrapping itself around me. The house looks the same as it did the other day, but there’s a light on in the kitchen and living room, and I can see two figures moving around inside behind the gauzy curtains.

“Hey, Mom,” I say quietly. “Today was weird. I never expected to be working side-by-side with Jake. It’s hard being around him again. I thought I could handle it, but it’s hard…”

The words trail off, hanging in the crisp evening air. Admitting it aloud makes it real—too real. I still have feelings for Jake, even after everything. I grip the handlebars of my bike and close my eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay focused. I promise. Just like you’d want.”

The wind picks up, a chill sinking deep into my bones, and it’s time to go. I close my eyes briefly, let myself picture her face, and whisper: “Still missing you every day.”

Then I’m back on my bike and pedaling home, whispering promises to myself to stay focused, to do this for Mom. She always told me to keep my eyes on the prize, never to let emotions get in the way. But as I reach Nora’s place, a quiet, nagging thought slips in—why does everything have to seem so damn unfinished with him?

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