“Graham,” I said.
I held a brief staring contest with the little girl until a smile broke across her face.
“Take the cookies,” she said.
“They’re for you, after all,” Cindy said.
“You didn’t have to make them,” I said.
“And you didn’t have to help my daughter,” Cindy said.
“I guess she does get her feistiness from you.”
Another moment passed between us before I reached my hand out to take the plate of cookies.
“How’s your knee?” I asked.
“It’s fine. Mommy put me in a bath, and it really hurt, but I was brave,” Lily said.
“It’s good to be brave. Sometimes we have to be, even when we don’t wanna be,” I said.
I watched the small girl light up with pride, and it reminded me of my son. That same kind of pride and that same strong stance. Whoever Cindy was, she was raising her girl well, raising her to be strong and independent like I’d tried to do with my son. Memories of him came crashing back. Us working on the truck together and running around in the yard. I remembered his first skinned knee and how much he wanted to cry as I cleaned it up.
But no matter how much he wanted to cry, he didn’t.
He had been so brave.
Just like Lily.
I pushed the thoughts of my son away before they threatened to take over and set the cookies on the counter. I was still concealing the gun in my hand behind the door as I stood in the cracked doorway. The three of us were awkwardly standing there, not knowing what to do.
“I hate to cut the pow-wow short, but I got somewhere to be,” I said finally.
“We didn’t mean to keep you,” Cindy said.
I wanted to slam the door and lock them on the porch, but the look on Lily’s face stopped me from being a complete asshole. “Thanks for the cookies,” I managed.
“You’re welcome,” Cindy said. “Come on, booger. Let’s give Graham some privacy.”
“But I wanna stay and play,” Lily said.
“No. We need to go. He’s got places to be,” Cindy said.
The two of them walked away, and I watched until they were safely inside their house. I shut my front door and disengaged my firearm, sliding it across the counter toward the cookies. I locked the door and shut off the lights, doing whatever I could to ward off any other visitors.
Taking out my phone, I called Daniel. I needed a distraction, someone to talk to so I could get my mind off things.
The phone rang.
“Graham. My man. What’s up?” Daniel asked.
“Not much,” I said. “You?”
“Something must be up. You never call just to talk.”
; “Wanted to let you know I got a job in town,” I said.