She nods her head furiously like we are discussing the most serious topic of the day.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the little duck I saved from getting smashed at the Cage. Mila snags it, wrapping it in her tiny fist. “Mila’s ducky.”
“Mila’s ducky,” I agree.
I rest my chin on her head as she runs her fingers over her new trinket. I’ve never been a believer in signs, but this duck is making me one. She stands up and carefully tucks it in her pocket, mimicking me once again.
Her eyes dart behind me as someone approaches, and she quickly wraps herself around me.
“Rage sent me out here to tell you to come up for supper,” Carson says, stopping a few feet away from us.
My gaze goes to the horizon. “Is it that late already?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“We were just watching the ducks,” I tell him.
He glances toward the lake. “The little ones are cute as fu … dge, aren’t they?”
Mila smiles up at him. “Mila’s duckies,” she tells him.
It’s odd that Mila doesn’t seem to be as afraid of Cole or Carson as she does Rage.
“Oh my gosh. How lucky are you? You have your own family of ducks.” He ruffles her hair. “Do you want to go get a hot dog?” he asks her.
She jumps to her feet. “Hot dog!”
He holds his hand out to her and unbelievably she takes it. His big hand engulfs her tiny one, and they begin to walk toward the house. She looks over her shoulder, making sure I’m following.
“You have to cook it on a stick first,” he tells her. “But I’ll help you.”
When we get to the deck, I notice Rage has a fire going. Mila guides Carson around him to the far side of the pit. I’m trying to be angry at him, but it’s hard to hold onto when all I see is hurt on his face.
Cole and Carson both get to work loading up their skewers and helping Mila with hers. She’s so interested in what she’s doing that it gives me a minute to step inside and use the restroom.
When I come out of the bathroom, Rage is leaning against the wall waiting for me.
“Why is she scared of me and not them?” he asks.
I sigh and lean against the wall opposite him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Is there a chance she remembers you at all? Did you ever have a fight with your mom in front of her?”
He runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, but she was just a baby.”
“I don’t know, Rage. Maybe her subconscious remembers you.”
“How do I fix it?”
“Well, first of all, you could fix your scowl.”
It deepens. “I don’t have a scowl.”
I take a step toward him and press my finger between his eyebrows. “What do you call this then?”
He rubs where I just touched.
“You’re tense. She can feel it. I can feel it. Maybe you should take your own advice and go visit the Cage.”
“Will you go with me?”