Page 4 of Resisting the Fall

A runt of a girl with two blond braids sticking out from beneath a hat that was too big for her.

“She’s not coming with us, is she?” Tate asked.

“’Course not.” I watched as Dad aimed a kind smile at the woman who had appeared in the doorway behind them. “What girl do you know that wants to go fishing?”

While the adults spoke, Dad glanced down at the girl now standing in front of him, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. With one backward glance toward us, he nodded and gestured both kids toward the Suburban, lifting a hand in farewell to Ms. Price.

“Looks like she is coming,” Tate said, scooting across the seat to make room for the others.

As they made their way across the lawn, a ball of disappointment grew in my chest. This was supposed to be a boys’ trip. An opportunity for Tate and me to spend time with Dad. It was bad enough to have another boy along, but a girl? She was going to ruin everything.

The side door opened and Dad ushered the two inside, waiting for them to get situated before making introductions. “Carson, Maven, this is my oldest son, Bennett—” he pointed at me, then to my younger brother—“and my next oldest, Tate.”

“Hey.” Carson gave a brief wave, but Maven’s eyes locked on me, her smile widening. Why was she looking at me so weird?

“Hi,” I said half-heartedly.

She kept her gaze locked on mine. “Are you old enough to ride in the front seat?”

“I’m ten,” I informed her as my dad ducked his head to hide his smile, then shut the door.

Maven buckled her seatbelt. “Mama says you need to be at least twelve to sit in the front. She’s a nurse at the hospital, so she’s seen what happens if⁠—”

“I’ve been sitting in the front seat for as long as I’ve been going fishing with my dad.”

“Just ’cause you have doesn’t mean you should.”

Carson’s nudge to his sister’s side thankfully quieted her just as Dad climbed inside. You’d think if her mom was so concerned about car safety, she’d have her daughter in a booster. There was no way the scrawny thing was older than six.

Which reminded me. “Dad, don’t you have to be eight to come on one of our fishing trips?”

The expression Dad threw me as he eased the Suburban forward told me he knew where I was going with my comment and he didn’t like it one bit. “That’s a rule I have in place for my boys, but you can fish at any age, and since Maven is our guest⁠—”

Maven gave an irritated huff. “I’m eight and a half.”

“How was I supposed to know? My kid brother’s almost as big as you and he’s only five.” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. At least I regretted saying them in front of my dad.

Dad’s next look in my direction had me stilling in my seat. “Is that how we treat our friends?”

“She’s not a friend⁠—”

“Bennett.” Dad’s voice had turned hard, the way it did every time I had some correcting that needed done. “Unless you’d like me to head home right now and drop you off, I would suggest a swift change of course.”

My cheeks burned with equal parts embarrassment and anger, and I was just glad it was still too dark for anyone to notice. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“I’m confident you can do better than that, son.”

Reluctantly, I turned in my seat to face Maven, but the smirk lifting her lips had me pressing my own lips together. There was no way I was apologizing to some know-it-all pest of a girl.

Instead, I turned back around and crossed my arms.

I could feel Dad’s eyes on me. “Bennett?”

My choice was made. I set my gaze out the passenger window, watching as the scenery slowed to a stop before Dad flipped a U-turn back in the direction of our farm.

“I’ll let you explain to your mother why you’re not coming fishing with us today.”

Turns out there was something I’d intentionally do to disappoint my dad. But I’d take his disappointment over being forced to spend a whole day with that girl.