“Thanks for today, Caleb,” Zane said. Caleb didn’t comment on how awkward it felt to hear him sound anything close to grateful. He wasn’t about to ruin his good mood. “I know you have Bea this week.”

Right, well, he had Bea every week since he was a single father, but he doubted Zane cared enough to know. Caleb wasn’t exactly interesting, though, so he wasn’t holding it against him. “Anytime.” Except helping out meant he was now late to picking Bea up from practice. Again. Caleb hurried to put the box down. “I gotta get going. Are you good from here?”

Zane waved him off, already immersed in whatever he was doing. Memorizing lines maybe. Caleb liked theatre just fine—he’d randomly joined his middle school’s club and kept getting sucked back into it—but he wasn’t as dedicated as Zane. Maybe at one point he was. Caleb used to want to be on stage before he started doing sound. He’d landed the role of George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life during his senior year of high school despite his million doubts. His mom had even taken him out to Denny’s to celebrate despite not being able to afford it.

And then he had to go fuck things up.

He’d never call Bea a mistake. His biggest accomplishment in life was being her father. He could talk endlessly about her to anyone that’d listen. The circumstances of her birth, the timing, maybe even her mother, were all things he’d go and redo if he could. Becoming a dad his last year of high school wasn’t part of his life plans; neither was dropping out of the play to help the mother of his child. Caleb had to get a job to support them. He didn’t have time for something as childish as high school theatre. He’d never see his mother so furious.

“I wanted you to be better than me,” she’d told him, tears in her eyes. Caleb hadn’t realized how tired she looked recently. “You were supposed to do better.”

Just like her, he’d become a parent at a young age, the very thing she’d constantly caution him against. His mom—despite her grief—had offered to let his ex-girlfriend stay with them when her parents kicked her out. Lyla’s family were the uppity sort. Caleb hadn’t liked them when they were together, and, years later, still found himself rolling his eyes at them. They adored Bea, though. He wasn’t going to deprive his daughter of her grandparents.

Okay, yeah, it helped they were rich. Sue him. Lyla had given up custody when Bea was two, he needed all the help he could get. They’d even offered to cover Bea’s basketball expenses and new school clothes every year. With Caleb going back to college, he couldn’t afford to turn them down. Bea only really stayed with them on Friday anyway.

The drive from Foxglove University was, thankfully, only a seven minute drive from where Bea had practice. That didn’t help the fact he was nearly twenty minutes late to pick her up.

“I’m so sorry,” he babbled the moment he waked into the gym. “Beatrice, get your stuff please.”

“You’re late,” Bea accused, frowning at him. “You said you’d be on time today.”

“I know, anak, I’m sorry. Daddy got caught up at work.” Bea hadn’t called him anything other than Dad in the last year or so—she claimed being eight meant she had outgrown that—but old habits died hard. She’d always be the little red, wrinkly baby he’d skipped school to visit.

Bea gave him a look, lips pursed and looking too much like her mother, before she strode off to grab her bag. Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. Between working at The Pearl—a little shitty bar—and practice for the upcoming play, he just found himself losing track of time. His mom kept telling him to set reminders on his phone. Maybe he should start.

“Thank you for staying with her,” he said to you. “Seriously. I feel like I should bake you muffins or something.”

Just his luck it was you and not the older, less attractive coach. Caleb had recognized you immediately from high school, but he never brought it up. It wasn’t like you were friends.

“Or a gift card. Uh, you like coffee?” He gave you a hopeful look. “There’s this nice place a block from here.”