I watch her over my coffee and try not to let the anger show. Not at her. Never at her. At the world, maybe. At the fact that my kid is six years old and already learning the skill of shrinking.
“How you feeling about today?”
She nods without looking up. “Good.”
Too fast.
I don’t push. I’ve been trying not to. I’ve been trying to listen without turning it into a damn interrogation. I keep thinking if I do it right, she’ll tell me what’s going on.
But it’s as hard as trying to catch smoke.
Delaney moves quietly around the kitchen, packing Sadie’s lunch. She’s got that calm competence that makes everything feel less sharp. She slides an apple into the bag, checks the zipper, then sets it beside Sadie’s backpack, just another part of the routine.
Sadie looks up at her and smiles. Real this time.
That makes my chest kick painfully.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
Sadie hops down, backpack already on. “Yep.”
She’s halfway to the door before she stops and turns back.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re picking me up today, right?”
The question punches straight through my ribs.
“Always,” I say immediately. “Same time. Same spot.”
Her shoulders loosen, just a fraction. She nods once, satisfied, and bolts out the door as if she didn’t just gut me with one sentence.
I don’t move.
Delaney’s gaze flicks to mine with quiet concern. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.
I grab my keys.
The drive to Mountain Ridge is quiet. No radio. Just tires on pavement and pine trees blurring past. Sadie hums under her breath, twisting the strap of her backpack.
When we pull into the parking lot, the usual madness is already in motion. Kids spilling out, parents clustering in their little groups. The same routine. The same noise.
And there she is.
Carol Spence.
Perfect ponytail. Clipboard. That sharp, polished smile she uses as a blade.
She’s laughing with another mom near the entrance, voice pitched just loud enough to carry. Eli is beside her in one of those collared shirts that’s probably never met grass. He’s got that same pinched little expression, always taking notes on who matters.
Sadie stiffens the second she spots them.
Her hand finds my sleeve without thinking.
That does it.
