“Maybe for not doing as you’re told?”
Ronnie’s lips squish to one side. “Nope.”
What a childhood that would be. A pang of longing spreads through my chest. It’s a useless fantasy where I came from. But there’s something even the likes of me can ask for.
“Well, I could use a cup of coffee.”
“Oh, yay! I’ll make it for you. C’mon!” The bubbly bundle of exuberance turns and takes off faster than I can follow.
“Let me help,” I plead. “There’s no fooling my caffeine addiction with pretend. It has to be the real deal.”
Or else I’ll be even more worthless while Ronnie runs circles around me.
It’s mid-morning when I step out onto the porch in search of my daughter and her new sidekick. They’ve been busy doing who knows what while I’ve been handling Chance’s latest fuck-up at the auction barn. I spy them under the large oak, the bare branches doing little to block the fierce wind. Frankie is sitting on the cold ground as Ronnie skips in a circle, pretending to pat invisible heads.
“Duck, duck, duck,” my little girl chimes. Her bouncy gait continues until she reaches her nanny. “Gray duck!”
Ronnie takes off at a sprint, squealing her excitement. A low groan escapes from the other player. My lips roll between my teeth to trap a chuckle. The woman is in her early twenties andstruggling to get up off the frozen grass. It’s clear she’s reaching her limit.
And not just from hours of keeping up with Ronnie. The pair is bundled up against the late November chill. Frankie’s cheeks are noticeably red and not in the bashful shade I’d prefer to see.
“Hey, Ronnie,” I call across the yard. “Time to come in for a snack.”
“Yipppppeeeeee!” my daughter cheers. She grabs Frankie’s arm and practically drags her toward the house. “C’mon, Frannie. Daddy is gonna feed us.”
Laughter bursts out of me at hearing her nickname for the surly ex-con. Except this isn’t the same badass who swung herself out of the back of a squad car. There are no sharp edges to be found at the moment. She’s been worn down into a flimsy shape from Ronnie running all over her.
My little girl ditches her exhausted nanny to run full speed at me. I bend and scoop her into my arms, swinging us around. Her carefree giggle is pure joy. My chest expands as I try to recall the last time I heard it.
“Are you having fun, cupcake?”
Her small but mighty arms squeeze me tighter. “Yes! This is the best day everrrrrrrr!”
Emotion burns my eyes and I bury my face in her jacket, soaking in this moment. “That’s really great to hear.”
“We found her, Daddy.” There’s awe in her voice. “Now she’s taking my sadness away.”
I get choked up, struggling to breathe normally over the lump in my throat. “My sweet girl. I love you so much.”
“Love you too, Daddy. Gotta wash my hands!” And then she’s pulling away to race through the front door.
While I compose myself, Frankie relies heavily on the railing to help her up the porch stairs. She’s going to need something stronger than coffee and fruit when the working day is done.
I hitch a thumb in the direction Ronnie went. “You’re receiving high praise, little menace.”
“Better be. I can’t feel my legs.” The redhead trudges along as if there’s concrete in her boots.
It’s a challenge to smother my smirk. “Rough morning?”
Green flames threaten bodily harm when she glares at me. “You should be a detective.”
“Somebody needs to take a load off.” I guide her inside, swerving from the foyer to the kitchen.
Frankie drags the wool hat off her head, leaving her hair a mess. Her coat is unzipped next and gets carelessly tossed on the table. A pained groan wheezes from her chapped lips as she lowers herself onto a stool. She slumps across the granite island like it’s a pillowy mattress.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“You’re right. It’s worse,” she whines.