“Hey, pumpkin,” he said softly. “You can’t run out here, cars come and go too fast. You could get hurt.”
Ellie crossed her arms, shook her head side to side, and muttered, “No.”
Ava pressed her lips together. “Terrible twos,” she murmured, half to herself.
Deacon glanced up at her with a sympathetic raise of his eyebrow. Then he turned back to Ellie. “You can hold my hand or Mama’s, but you’re not running off. We don’t want you to get hurt. Which will it be?”
Ellie’s little brow furrowed in thought. After a long blink, she sighed, stood, and took Deacon’s offered hand. The three of them strolled across the asphalt toward the low building, the heat radiating from the pavement under their sneakers.
Inside, Ava took Ellie’s hand and led her into the bathroom. Ava unfolded the changing table, wiped the molded plastic clean with a scented wipe, and clicked Ellie’s shoes off. The toddler wriggled as Ava peeled back the wet pull-up, but it was only damp. Within moments, a fresh pull-up and a quick spritz of powder later, Ellie was buttoned into a clean outfit and giggling as she bounced on her toes.
After washing their hands, Ava took Ellie’s hand and steered her out the door, and into the small lobby where a tall, backlit rack of glossy brochures stood. Deacon was leaning against it; one foot casually crossed over the other. He straightened and smiled when he saw them.
Before Ava could speak, Ellie slipped free and dashed to him, arms outstretched. “Dad-dy!” she squealed as he scooped her up.
He kissed her forehead. “Hey, baby girl.”
“I need to use the restroom. I won’t be long.” Ava smiled.
“Okay, darlin’, we’ll be outside.” Deacon nodded toward the exit.
Ava ruffled Ella’s curls. “Be good, sweetie.”
“Bye-bye, Mama,” Ellie called, waving one pudgy hand.
Deacon nodded, then carried Ellie outside. Through the glass, Ava watched his strong stride and Ellie’s contentment being carried. The sun streamed behind them, painting the ground in golden patches. She smiled at her daughter’s tiny, eager face, and for a moment, the rest stop felt more like a small oasis on their long journey, before the road called them onward.
****
Deke stepped off the gravel beside their vehicles onto the early-morning grass, flecked with the first chill of autumn. He gently set Ellie feet down on the asphalt. “You can run here close to the truck, but nowhere else. The grass is too damp,” he said, sliding onto the worn plank of a picnic-table bench, its wood gray and cracked from years of sun and rain.
Ellie’s curls bounced as she nodded, then she took off in delighted circles, her small sneakers skimming the asphalt. Deke rested his elbows on his knees and watched her tumble onto the ground, then spring up and continue her joyful dance. He felt a warm ache in his chest as her laughter rang out against the backdrop of rustling leaves and a low wind that carried the scent offallen pine needles.
A soft voice broke his reverie. “Is that your little girl?” Deke looked up to see a woman standing a few feet away. Her red hair caught the sunlight in fiery highlights, and her green eyes shone with curiosity.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, rising to his full height.
“She’s gorgeous. She has your eyes.” The woman smiled, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.
“She does.” Deke’s lips curved into a pleased grin.
“How old is she?”
He smirked. “Two.”
The woman laughed, a clear, warm sound. “Oh, I just went through that. My husband and I have three children: two boys and a girl, ages seven, five, and three.”
“How do you manage all that?” Deke shook his head in admiration.
She shrugged playfully. “We both work at it.”
A man’s voice called from down the road. “Darlene?” Both Deke and the woman turned to see a tall man approaching, his stride relaxed, a well-worn baseball cap on his head. The woman glanced back at Deke.
“That’s my husband, Brian.”
Brian stopped beside them, offering a smile. “I should’ve known you’d be wherever kids were,” he teased, then nodded at Deke. “She loves children. We’d probably have ten more if it were up to her.”
Deke laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Ten more?” He looked around at the empty clearing. “Where are yours?”
