Big Boss by Cassie Mint

Eight

Jacob

This is a nightmare. Not… not how I wanted this to go.

I knew it would be messy. Knew Kate would be horrified, that my daughter might never see me the same way again.

But I never imagined she’d look at me like this.

Like a stranger.

Like a villain.

“Have you screwed my other friends, too?”

That’s the question that breaks me. I slam a palm down on the kitchen counter, because I won’t have that shit said near Daphne. Won’t have her painted as one of many, just another dirty secret.

“Enough.”

Kate blinks, finally shocked into silence by my outburst. I draw in a shuddering breath and turn to Daphne, ready to reassure her.

She’s gone.

“What—where did she go?” There’s a sickly feeling in my chest. A horrible, swooping feeling, like going over the drop on a roller coaster.

Kate scoffs. “Oh, you care about her, do you?”

“Be quiet,” I snap. I grind the heel of one palm into my eye. “I love her. You’d know that if you let me speak.”

“You…” Kate’s voice is quiet. She stares around the empty kitchen, looking lost. Like Daphne might leap out from behind the bread bin. “She said that too.”

She did?

My sweet girl said that she loved me… and then heard all that awful shit?

“We’re done here.” I turn on my heel. “We’ll discuss this later.”

Daphne’s not in the living room or my study. Not in her guest room or my bedroom. I check every room in the house, pulse thudding in my ears, then yank on my coat and stride out to the gardens.

It’s fucking freezing out here. Dread coils in my gut as I search, calling quietly at first, then bellowing loud enough to shake the trees.

“Her things are gone.” Kate calls to me from the back door, her socked feet curling against the tiles and her arms wrapped around her middle. “I think she left.”

My daughter doesn’t sound pleased. She sounds wrecked, too.

“Where would she go? To her parents’ place?”

“No,” Kate whispers as I push past. Snow drops off my boots in clumps as I march through the kitchen. “No, they’re not close. They never invite her for the holidays.”

We burst into the living room together and pause. The piles and piles of homemade gifts she brought us stare at us from under the tree.

“Oh my god.” Kate sounds sick. The feeling is mutual. “Her—her apartment. She’ll have gone home. She always hides away when she’s upset.”

“Send me the address. Now.” Kate’s already typing, her thumbs dancing furiously over her phone. I dig mine out of my pocket, waiting for the buzz before I start for the front door.

“Wait!”

“We’ll discuss it later,” I grind out, not slowing.

“No—give her this.” Kate whirls around, hovering for a second before tearing a gift tag off one of the boxes under the tree. She snatches a pen off a nearby bookcase, pressing the tag against the wall and scribbling a note.

“Kate, I swear to god, if that’s not begging her to come back—”

“It is.” She thrusts it out. “Dad. It is.”

I shove it into my pocket and turn on my heel.

I need to find my girl.

* * *

Daphne lives in a shitty apartment building on the other side of the city, with graffiti sprayed on the walls and about three hundred cats clustered on the fire escape. I shove my hands in my coat pockets as I stride to the entrance, her address already burned into my brain.

I press the buzzer for her apartment. There’s no light. No sound. The buzzer’s broken.

Figures.

I could text Kate for her phone number—fuck, how do I not have Daphne’s number? But there are ugly, bitter feelings churning in my chest, and I don’t trust myself not to say something to my daughter I might regret.

I’ve screwed up enough for one day. Time to set things right, not make things worse.

It’s still morning, but the clouds are so dark overhead, bellies heavy with snow, that it might as well be late evening. As I hover on the front stoop, flurries of snowflakes begin to fall, and I weigh my options before gusting out a curse.

The door sticks under my palm, hanging crooking on its hinges so one corner drags along the floor. But it’s not locked, and one good shove scrapes it open.

Daphne lives here?

No more. Not if I have any say in it.

Faint sounds drift through the hallway as I stomp upstairs: the distant wail of a baby. A barking dog. Blaring television sets and bursts of laughter.

It’s a lot of noise for a shy girl like Daphne. No wonder she can’t sleep.

My lungs are burning by the time I reach her floor—high enough in the building that snowflakes whistle through an open window, blowing fast like I’m on a mountaintop. I stride to her door, then pause to catch my breath, scrubbing both hands over my face.

What if she won’t answer the door?

What if she refuses to come back?

Only one way to find out. Fuck.

My fist thumps against the door, rattling it on its hinges, and I wince. Knock more gently.

“Daphne? Are you in there?”

I pause, heart in my throat. The wind howls. House music blares through a wall.

“Daphne?” I knock again, movements stiff. Someone pokes their head out of an apartment down the hall, eyes widening at the sight of me. The big motherfucker come to pound down tiny Daphne’s door.

I force a nod, heart thumping against my ribs. The neighbor just stares.

“Daphne.” I slap my open hand against the wood, shoulders sagging. “Please, sweetheart. Answer the door.”

A floorboard creaks inside her apartment. I turn to stone.

Her steps are slow. Cautious. Like she’s arguing with herself every inch of the way to the door. I wait, straining to hear, sweat prickling over my skin.

I need her. Need to see her. Need to get this fucking door out from between us and make this better, make this right.

The door handle rattles. I watch, throat tight as it turns.

“Hi, Mr Callahan.” She sags in the doorway, like all the stuffing’s been knocked out of her, but her voice is strong and she forces a smile. “I’m sorry to leave like that. I didn’t mean to be rude. But I—I’m not feeling well. I think perhaps it’s better if I spend the holidays here—”

“Daphne.” Her name is scraped from deep in my chest. Her eyes are red rimmed, and I did that. “Please, sweetheart. Don’t.”

She glances nervously to the side. Like she’s planning an escape. So I speak quickly, bracing my palm against her door.

“I’ll leave if that’s what you want. But first you need to know—I love you, sweetheart. I should have said that right away. I should have already told you. And I’m sorry about all the shit you heard, but it’s not true. None of it’s true, and Kate knows that. Please come back.”

Her eyes are damp, but she’s not moving. Just watching me, unsure.

“Kate…”

“She’s sorry too.” Like a lightning bolt, I remember the gift tag stuffed in my pocket. I dig it out and thrust it over with a shaking hand. “She asked me to give you this.”

Daphne plucks it from my hand like it might explode. She turns it over slowly and reads, color flooding back into her cheeks.

Her forehead creases. She huffs out a breath and reads it again, frowning deeper. Then she pinches her lips together and shakes her head. Hides a wobbly smile.

“What does it say?” I crane my neck to read it, but she flips it around. Holds it up to show me.

Daph,

I was shocked, but it’s okay. It’s not like you didn’t warn me. Please come back.

Kate

PS. Don’t forget my pony.

I bark out a surprised laugh, and Daphne’s smiling too. Rolling her eyes, still damp from tears. She takes the gift tag with both hands and holds it to her chest. Clutches it there, like it’s something precious.

“You warned her, huh?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Sort of. She always knew I had the biggest crush on you.”

The biggest crush.

And I can’t wait any longer—can’t go another second with all this dead air between us. I lunge forward with a growl, snatching Daphne off her feet and holding her against me. Pressing my face to her cheek, her temple, her silky hair.

Her arms and legs wrap around me too, clinging just as fiercely, and I mutter her name over and over as I stride into her apartment.

I kick the door shut behind us.