flashed me back to the woman with the butterfly tattoo the other night. Her pout had done shit nothing to me, but this little girl had me reaching out to pick her up. Maybe the only difference was Emmaline was actually a little girl and could pull off the pout, but it seemed bigger than that. Somehow, this girl already had me wrapped around her finger and I would probably never see her again.
As I carried her back the way I came, Emmaline got good and comfortable in my arms. Her little head moved around to take in the new vantage point before giving me a good, long look.
“How old are you, little princess?” I asked.
“Three, but my birthday is real soon.”
Three, nearly four—close to the same age Ash had been that first day we met. Shit, I really needed to stop going there.
Stone and Roadrunner were still in the kitchen and both smiled at Emmaline in my arms.
“What’re you doing out of bed, baby girl?” Roadrunner asked.
So, they knew whose kid this was. But “out of bed”? That didn’t make any sense. Unless they just made up one of the beds while Mom got her rocks off or something.
“Thirsty,” Emmaline explained.
Stone immediately turned around to the cabinets for a cup. Roadrunner came over and grabbed hold of Emmaline. I wasn’t even going to think about why I felt bereft as he took her from me. Not touching that with a ten-foot pole.
“Where’s your mom?” Roadrunner asked, as if I were too fucking dense to think of that question.
“I think she might’a gone outside,” Emmaline replied.
Stone handed over a pink sippy cup he’d filled with water. Emmaline took it with a smile and started drinking. I was busy staring at the cup. Why the hell was that thing in our kitchen? Did her mom bring it with?
“Let’s get you back in bed,” Roadrunner said as he headed out of the room with her.
I just stared after them, totally fucking lost. Something wasn’t adding up. If that bottle of Lagavulin weren’t still sealed shut, I’d have thought I was three sheets to the wind already.
Stone must have noticed my confusion because he cleared his throat. Once he had my attention, he spoke. “She’s Ash’s.” I just kept looking at him. “Emmy,” he said, nodding in the direction Roadrunner went, “she’s Ash’s.”
Emmy. I liked that…
She’s Ash’s.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Those words finally took on meaning in my head. Emmaline—Emmy, was Ash’s daughter. Ash had a fucking daughter. Ash…
“Three, but my birthday is real soon.”
Ash had a three-nearly-four-year-old daughter.
Ash left me almost five years ago.
I’d stopped doing the math on it, stopped tracking how long it had been since she had left me. I did the math then, though. Four years, seven months. Emmy was nearly four, plus nine months of pregnancy.
Fuck.
No.
She wouldn’t.
I tore out of the kitchen and flew through the hallway where I’d found Emmy, past the stairs, and out to the back deck.
Ash was there, standing in the middle of the yard, facing away from me. She looked different, the silhouette of her body more curved than I remembered and her curly blonde hair falling farther down her back. Still, I would have known it was her anywhere.
All around and in front of her, little sparks of light flashed and died away. Fireflies. She was watching them flicker around the yard.
Indian had called Ash firefly since before I knew her. He used to say it was because her smiles weren’t constant given how introverted she was, but when one came out, it was like a light shining out of her.
He wasn’t exaggerating. Not one fucking bit.
For a moment, the image of her transfixed me. I wanted to break out my sketchpad and commit the sight to paper so I would never lose it. I wanted to ink it into my own skin so it would always be with me.
Then, I remembered Emmy.
The rage returned, burning underneath my skin. Storming across the yard, I clenched my hands at my sides. I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t be
As I carried her back the way I came, Emmaline got good and comfortable in my arms. Her little head moved around to take in the new vantage point before giving me a good, long look.
“How old are you, little princess?” I asked.
“Three, but my birthday is real soon.”
Three, nearly four—close to the same age Ash had been that first day we met. Shit, I really needed to stop going there.
Stone and Roadrunner were still in the kitchen and both smiled at Emmaline in my arms.
“What’re you doing out of bed, baby girl?” Roadrunner asked.
So, they knew whose kid this was. But “out of bed”? That didn’t make any sense. Unless they just made up one of the beds while Mom got her rocks off or something.
“Thirsty,” Emmaline explained.
Stone immediately turned around to the cabinets for a cup. Roadrunner came over and grabbed hold of Emmaline. I wasn’t even going to think about why I felt bereft as he took her from me. Not touching that with a ten-foot pole.
“Where’s your mom?” Roadrunner asked, as if I were too fucking dense to think of that question.
“I think she might’a gone outside,” Emmaline replied.
Stone handed over a pink sippy cup he’d filled with water. Emmaline took it with a smile and started drinking. I was busy staring at the cup. Why the hell was that thing in our kitchen? Did her mom bring it with?
“Let’s get you back in bed,” Roadrunner said as he headed out of the room with her.
I just stared after them, totally fucking lost. Something wasn’t adding up. If that bottle of Lagavulin weren’t still sealed shut, I’d have thought I was three sheets to the wind already.
Stone must have noticed my confusion because he cleared his throat. Once he had my attention, he spoke. “She’s Ash’s.” I just kept looking at him. “Emmy,” he said, nodding in the direction Roadrunner went, “she’s Ash’s.”
Emmy. I liked that…
She’s Ash’s.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Those words finally took on meaning in my head. Emmaline—Emmy, was Ash’s daughter. Ash had a fucking daughter. Ash…
“Three, but my birthday is real soon.”
Ash had a three-nearly-four-year-old daughter.
Ash left me almost five years ago.
I’d stopped doing the math on it, stopped tracking how long it had been since she had left me. I did the math then, though. Four years, seven months. Emmy was nearly four, plus nine months of pregnancy.
Fuck.
No.
She wouldn’t.
I tore out of the kitchen and flew through the hallway where I’d found Emmy, past the stairs, and out to the back deck.
Ash was there, standing in the middle of the yard, facing away from me. She looked different, the silhouette of her body more curved than I remembered and her curly blonde hair falling farther down her back. Still, I would have known it was her anywhere.
All around and in front of her, little sparks of light flashed and died away. Fireflies. She was watching them flicker around the yard.
Indian had called Ash firefly since before I knew her. He used to say it was because her smiles weren’t constant given how introverted she was, but when one came out, it was like a light shining out of her.
He wasn’t exaggerating. Not one fucking bit.
For a moment, the image of her transfixed me. I wanted to break out my sketchpad and commit the sight to paper so I would never lose it. I wanted to ink it into my own skin so it would always be with me.
Then, I remembered Emmy.
The rage returned, burning underneath my skin. Storming across the yard, I clenched my hands at my sides. I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t be
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