Page 7 of Fierce Hope
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Deke dumped the charred remains into the sink. “I forgot to ask. Did you finish up your algebra during tutoring?”
“Uh huh.”
“Ms. Villanueva acted ...” He searched for a casual way to say it. “Different today.”
DJ’s eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“Nothing.” DJ’s voice went flat. “She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Can we not do this?”
The familiar knot of guilt tightened in Deke’s chest. Five years of deployed birthdays, missed parent-teacher conferences, arguments with Karen that ended with doors slamming and DJ hiding in his room with his headphones cranked. He’d failed his son so many times, in so many ways. And now here they were, trying to rebuild something neither of them knew how to fix.
Smoke continued to curl up from the sink, a perfect metaphor for his attempts at both cooking and parenting.
Deke scraped at the blackened remnants, his jaw tight, thinking about DJ’s latest transgressions. He shouldn’t go there. Not now. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. “Got an interesting call from school today.”
DJ’s posture shifted instantly, defenses snapping into place. “Here we go.”
“PE?” Deke kept his voice carefully neutral, though his grip on the spatula tightened. “Seriously, son? It’s the easiest class you’ve got.”
“You don’t know anything about it.” DJ’s voice cracked slightly.
“Then explain it to me.” The words came out sharper than he intended. Deke forced himself to breathe, to loosen his grip on the spatula before he snapped it. “Help me understand.”
“You want to understand?” DJ’s voice rose, trembling. “Fine. You try being the only kid who can’t skate. Or ski. Or whatever else these rich California kids do for fun. You try being stuck in this freezing place where everything’s about snow and mountains and—” He broke off, blinking hard.
The spatula clattered into the sink. Deke’s chest ached at the sight of his son fighting back tears, hands balled into fists.
“I hate it here,” DJ whispered. “I want to go home.”
Home. Orlando. Where it was warm and familiar and his friends didn’t spend weekends shredding powder. Where his mother?—
Deke’s jaw clenched. Karen didn’t want DJ back. She’d made that crystal clear when she’d dropped him here four months ago, too busy with her new life, her new boyfriend—her new everything—to handle a “difficult” teenager. But DJ didn’t need to know that. Didn’t need to carry that weight on top of everything else.
“I know this is hard,” Deke said softly. “But we can?—”
“You don’t know anything!” DJ’s voice cracked. “You weren’t there before, and now you think you can just ... just ...”
The acrid smell of burnt food filled the space between them. In the sink, the last wisps of smoke rose from the ruined dinner like a surrender flag.
“I’m not hungry anyway.” DJ spun and stormed out. His bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.
Deke stood in the smoke-filled kitchen, the echo of that slam feeling like a physical blow. He braced his hands on the counter, head bowed, and sent up a silent, desperate prayer.
Dear Lord, I need help here. I’m messing this up six ways from Sunday.
The silence that followed felt heavy with all the things he couldn’t fix.
His phone buzzed on the counter, but Deke ignored it. His thoughts drifted back to Jade, like they did with increasing frequency lately. She was beautiful, sure—all graceful curves and quiet elegance, with those deep brown eyes that caught the light like amber when she smiled. But it was more than that. The way she moved, precise and measured, like someone used to watching their step. The careful way she chose her words, weighed responses before giving them.
Today she’d been off-balance. Distracted. He’d caught the slight tremor in her hands as she’d shuffled DJ’s papers, the way her gaze had darted to the door whenever someone entered the community center.
Could be trouble at work, though he doubted it. Andreassen-Canning didn’t hire anyone less than exceptional, and Jade was clearly that. Could be relationship drama, but he’d never seen her with anyone, never heard her mention dating.
His phone buzzed again. Then again.
With a sigh, he picked it up.
