Nights Under the Tennessee Stars

She could have broken down on the way to Heartache. A pervert could have stopped under the guise of helping...

Remy’s chest constricted.

“That’s the thing.” Sarah swiped her eyes, which were a different shade of green than her mother’s had been. Her biological father was a high school classmate of Liv’s and he’d wanted nothing to do with Liv or Sarah after he’d found out Liv was pregnant. Later, the guy had used his computer skills to hack a system that should have been secured by the Department of Defense, and had been in jail for as long as Remy had known Liv. “Just tell her I had your permission. Like it was a family emergency or something and you left a message that she must have just missed.”

Remy heard Erin making small talk with her customers and greeting a few more who walked into the store. He watched her stride off toward the back to retrieve something off a nearby shelf. He kept his voice low as he spoke to his daughter.

“If you’re going to ask me to lie, I think I have the right to know why.” He’d really thought Sarah was on track with school after the bumps in the road at the end of her junior year.

Mouth falling open, she gave him a look that suggested he needed a brain transplant for asking the question.

“To see you!” She jabbed one finger onto the wooden workstation as if making a point. “How many times have you said you wished you could stay closer to home for your work?”

Guilt pummeled him even as he felt Erin’s gaze on him again. “It’s not easy, Sarah—”

“I get that.” She shrugged at him. “So I made it easy for you. I don’t need to be on that field trip since I don’t care about college. I want field experience in television and who better to shadow for a week than my own dad?”

Remy had spent enough years on the winning side of a conference table to recognize when he’d been beaten. Either his daughter had a great point or she’d just played him extremely well. But at this moment, it truly didn’t matter. She was here—five hundred miles from where she was supposed to be—and he didn’t have time to leave the job and personally escort her home. Just thinking about all the things that could have happened to her on the road alone threatened to send him back into another panic attack. His forehead broke out in a cold sweat.

“Remy?” Erin called from the other side of a clothing rack. “Can I talk to you for one quick second?”

He glanced up, in no mood to think about anything but Sarah at the moment.

Erin waved him over.

Stepping away from his daughter, he regretted having this discussion with Sarah here. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

“What?” He was terse, but not nearly as terse as he felt.

“I have no right to make a suggestion, but I’m going to advise you not to lie for her or she’ll never learn how to be accountable for her own actions.”

Remy shook his head. “Seriously? You’re giving me parenting advice? Do you have kids?”

She frowned. Bristled. “You looked like you were drowning. I thought I’d send you a lifeline since you didn’t seem to know what to do.”

And didn’t that just get on his last nerve? How many times had he struggled with not knowing how to string words together in the year after Liv had died? With losing his train of thought in the middle of talking? He thought he’d kicked both those problems pretty damn well, so it ticked him off that Erin was finding fault when he was holding it together just fine.

“I know what I’m doing,” he said between gritted teeth.

Her shoulders straightened. “Fine. I’m sure I know nothing about teenagers since I have no kids of my own.”

She stalked off, back ramrod straight.

He’d won that battle, but now he was going to have to make nice with Erin all over again if he wanted her to stay on board for the show. He turned back to Sarah and drew her deeper into the back room.

“Daddy, please,” she started, her pleading tone grating when he had already decided to do what she’d asked.

He just wasn’t going to lie for her.

“This discussion is not finished,” he barked at her. “I’m going to call Ms. Fairly and deal with that end of the problem, but I have a major issue with you deciding to leave school on your own. You may be eighteen, but you’re still under my roof, which makes you accountable to me for your actions. We’ll revisit that later.”

The relief on her face—her wide smile exactly like her mom’s—reminded him of when he’d first met Sarah as an outgoing eleven-year-old. She’d charmed him even then, inviting him to her dance recital after he’d applauded her pirouettes on Liv’s kitchen floor when he had visited their place to buy an original painting from the up-and-coming local artist—his future wife.

Later, her art had expanded to gardening and then perfumes, her creativity knowing no boundaries. Remy had wanted to give her every opportunity she’d never had growing up or while raising Sarah alone, so he’d tried to help her develop her talents.

On impulse, he leaned over to brush a kiss on Sarah’s forehead.

She maintained a weary, indulgent smile. “Seriously, though. My teacher will freak out unless you sweet-talk her.”

While Sarah punched in the number and dialed, Remy’s eyes found Erin. She was accepting an armful of clothes on hangers from a woman wearing a bright orange caftan and head scarf. He wondered what drove Erin to be such an activist even as he told himself to stay away from her. She was going to be on one of his television shows. Nothing more.

He didn’t appreciate her telling him how to parent his daughter when she had no idea what Sarah had been through. Bad enough the girl had a felon for a biological father. Now she had no mother and her adoptive father was coming up short on the parenting front.

He switched into father mode as Sarah’s teacher answered the call. He made excuses and apologies for Sarah’s absence, keeping his explanation as vague as possible until he’d had time to talk to his daughter’s counselor about their next move. He didn’t doubt for a minute that the school would expel her if she got into any more trouble, especially considering some of the stunts she’d pulled the year before. He would talk to her about it. Make sure she was level or send her back to the counselor.

Maybe it was just as well she was here where he could keep an eye on her since he was spending half his time worrying about her anyway. He couldn’t afford anything happening to her while he was gone—like another drinking episode. If Sarah was this serious about needing his attention, he planned to make certain she had it.

By the time he finished speaking to the teacher—assuring her he’d come in for a meeting to discuss the issue as soon as he returned to Miami—he noticed Sarah had her head down on the table, arms folded.

“All set,” he told her, passing back her phone.

Only to realize she’d fallen asleep right there.

Crap. Now what?

A stress headache promised to level him any moment now. He gripped his temples and squeezed tight.

“Everything okay?” Erin asked, appearing at the open entryway between the back room and the rest of the store.

She stared at Sarah and then at him, her new bronze highlights catching the overhead light. He told himself to pull it together. Now that Sarah had passed out on Erin’s table, there was no pressing need to get out of the store.

“I suppose everything is all right. Until the next crisis that comes with having a teenager.” He tucked Sarah’s phone in his pocket for safekeeping. “Sorry I didn’t get to introduce the two of you before she conked out. That’s my daughter, Sarah.”

Erin watched him with a wariness that he hadn’t seen in her before. She carried an armful of clothes on hangers.

“You’re married?” She spoke the words carefully, enunciating each syllable with an awkwardness that felt uncomfortable.

Or was that just his imagination? Sometimes he felt as though the whole world must know he was a widower, as if that grief had been permanently etched into his features at all times. He knew he should probably get out of Erin’s store and take Sarah with him, but finding out what his daughter had done had thrown him for a major loop. He was exhausted, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Besides, Sarah looked as though she could sleep for three days straight, her right arm pillowing her head and her braid draped over her chin.

Poor kid.

“I was married. My wife died two years ago.” Because of him. Even then, he’d been on the road too much. Was the answer to quit his job? To make sure Sarah was safe and stayed out of trouble for the rest of her senior year?

Too bad he couldn’t come close to affording it. He needed to work to bring his finances back in line to pay for Sarah’s college tuition.

Erin’s expression shifted in predictable ways. Empathy, sympathy, a trace of pity.

He’d become adept at picking out all three in people’s faces. More so once they’d heard how she’d died.