Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
The little girl looks up at her mom and smiles. “But please, Mommy, can I play with her?”
“I see some future besties,” Sally says with a smile.
Ava glances at me, then Ella. “Is she—”
“My daughter. Yes. Ella, can you say hi to Miss Ava and June?”
But Ella, being the shy little bird she is around new people, curls into Wyatt’s chest.
“Ella.”
I can tell by the way Ava’s expression flickers that she’s putting two and two together. She had to have seen the tattoo I have on my arm, but she didn’t ask about it.
“Hey, cutie. I’m Ava, and this is Junie.”
“Hi, Junie.” I give her a little wave.
She smiles and waves back.
Goodness, she’s cute.
“She’s three years old,” Ava continues. “How old are you, Ella?”
Ella blinks, pouting her lips.
“You know how old you are. Hold up those fingers,” I say, wagging my brows. “Maybe I’ll bite ’em.”
Her pout morphs into a grin. “You won’t bite me, Daddy.”
“Wanna bet?” I take a step forward.
Ella screams, laughing. “Uncle Wy, tell him no! Don’t let him bite me.”
“I won’t.” Wyatt shifts her onto his hip. “But you gotta tell us how old you are.”
Ella holds up her fingers. “I’m free.”
“That’s perfect!” Ava pulls her hands out of her pockets. “So is June Bug. Y’all are the same age, so I bet you both like—”
“Cake!” Junie shouts. “I like cake!”
The whole barn laughs at that.
“I like cake too,” Ella says, wriggling in Wyatt’s grasp until he sets her down. She immediately makes a beeline for me, wrapping her arms around my legs.
“June is new here.” I put a hand on Ella’s back. “Think you could show her around?”
Ella shakes her head, tightening her grip on my legs.
Dear Lord, give me strength. How many hours until bedtime?
Speaking of bedtime: Ella’s recent bout of separation anxiety has been keeping me up way past mine. She does not want to be put to bed, and she definitely doesn’t want to sleep in her room alone. She’s been visiting me more often than not in my bed at all hours of the night.
Apparently it’s very common, but I can’t help but feel responsible. Guilty, even, because I’m raising her in a broken home. A nontraditional one, at least. Lizzie and I have a decent enough relationship as co-parents—as the lead singer of a country band, she’s been on the road pretty much nonstop since Ella was born—but ultimately, we’re not together.
Ella’s never lived in a home with a dad and a mom, and I hate that. My parents weren’t perfect. They did, however, have an incredibly strong bond until the day they died. My childhood was magical, and I worry all the time I’m not giving my daughter the life she deserves.
“How about this, Ella?” Ava drops into a crouch, resting her elbows on her knees. “Since you like cake, and June likes cake, maybe we can all get cake together?”
“Yes!” June teeters on her tiptoes. “But not the chicken, Mommy, okay? Just the cake.”
I cross my arms. “You’re missing out. That chicken is good.”
“No chicken,” Ella says softly.
Ava purses her lips, like she’s giving the proposal serious thought. Since when is she so fucking adorable?
Looking up, I see one of the Wallaces’ ranch hands checking her out. I give him a death stare, mentally hurling knives at him until he takes the hint and gets back to work.
“Okay, fine,” Ava says. “No chicken.”
“Yay!” Junie shouts, making me chuckle.
I can already tell this kid’s got a lot of personality.
I smooth Ella’s hair out of her face. By now I’ve become a pro at ponytails. But like me, she’s got so much hair that it ends up all over the place. Maybe braids might be better? I need to work on my braiding skills.
I wonder if Ava would teach me.
“You hear that?” I ask. “Miss Ava says you don’t need to eat chicken first. Would you like to go and get cake, then?”
Ella nods. “Yes, please.”
“Listen to those manners!” Ava pops up to standing, her eyes catching on mine. “Good job, Dad.”
I blink away the slight but sudden pressure behind my eyes. It’s a simple compliment. A small one. But when you’re a parent, people always seem willing to point out what you’re doing wrong. The compliments are few and far between. I appreciate Ava noticing this tiny but significant thing, my daughter being polite.
I appreciate being noticed, period. A counselor once told me that I was very much a typical middle child—I didn’t want to draw attention, but at the same time I always wondered why nobody paid more attention to me.
Here’s Ava, paying attention. Because I wasn’t obsessed enough with her already.
That’s another thing that keeps me up at night—memories from Austin. Our chemistry was pure fucking fire.
Still is, if my body’s reaction right now is any indication.
I keep waiting for that fire to go out. I haven’t had a ton of one-night stands, so my experience is limited. But none of them have stayed with me the way my encounter with Ava has. I’ll regularly sweat through my sheets thinking about the thoughtful, intentional way she put her hands on me.