I smiled, even though my heart still hadn’t stopped racing. “Yeah, baby. I’m okay now.”
Her eyes brightened, and she poked one of my half-dried pink nails. “You ’nored weally loud, Daddy.”
That got a real laugh out of me. “Did I scare you?”
She shook her head. “You not a monster. You Daddy!”
Smiling, I lifted her to her feet so she didn’t slip on the wet floor. “Think we should go to the bakery? Maybe get some cupcakes with unicorn frosting?”
“Yay, bakery!”
I quickly cleaned up the water, then brought Ivy to her bedroom to change her, since she was all wet. She wriggled on the bed while I dug through her drawer for her favorite T-shirt. The one with the glittery heart that had mostly flaked off in the wash.
“Pink shorts or the rainbow ones?” I held them both up.
She pointed. “Wain… rain…”
“Rainbow?”
“Yes!”
“You got it, Bug.”
As I helped her step into them, she wrapped her arms around my neck, holding on a little longer than usual. And I let her, tightening my grip around her tiny back.
Because yeah, I was still rattled. Still felt guilty as hell. I’d fallen asleep, and anything could’ve happened.
But it hadn’t.
Because Ivy was brave and smart.
And I was gonna spend the rest of my life making sure she never had to clean up alone again.
Ivy sang all the way to the bakery. Her voice was clear, sweet, and off-key, belting out every word to the “Happy Horses” song like she’d written it herself. But when it came to talking, especially with new people, the words got stuck. She got anxious, and when she got that way, she sometimes clammed up.
She’d fumble, pause, twist her fingers in her shirt, trying to sound things out. Whole sentences lived inside her, but sometimes they didn’t want to come out.
But singing?
Singing made her brave.
It was like the words didn’t scare her when they had a melody to ride on.
As we rolled down the quiet main road, past the flower shop and the coffee shop, Cole’s Cuppa with the crooked OPEN sign, I found myself breathing easier. That was the thing about Bristlecone Springs. It made space for people like Ivy. For people like me.
It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t fast. But it was steady. Folks looked you in the eye when they asked how you were, and they stuck around to hear the answer. Kids still rode their bikes past sunset, neighbors brought you soup when you were sick, and nobody cared if your truck was old as hell so long as it got you where you needed to go.
There was honesty in this town. Kindness too. The quiet kind that didn’t need a show.
And after everything I’d crawled through to get here, it felt like the safest place in the world to raise my daughter.
That comforting thought lasted right up until I caught sight of a man about a decade older than me across the street. Our eyes met for half a second, long enough for him to give me a smile that wasn’t friendly so much as smug. Grant.
He clapped a hand on his husband’s shoulder, leaning in to say something that made both of them laugh, and bile crept up the back of my throat. Grant always rubbed me the wrong way, even before I learned the full story, before I found out he’d married Lawson’s ex, the one who’d stolen from him. I’d dealt with him when I was setting up my bank account, and there was just something slick under his skin, like oil on water.
I pushed the thought down and guided Ivy into thebakery. As we stepped inside, the bell above the door jingled, and Ivy gasped like she’d walked into Disneyland. Probably the closest she would get to visiting. And that made me fucking depressed.
“Smells like… like ’ake dweems!” she squealed, pressing her face to my leg.
