“I’m trying to.”
She nods. Such a serious gesture. Deliberate. “Are you here to stay?”
My eyes lock onto Hunter’s. He doesn’t say a word, and his face reveals nothing. He remains a statue, leaving it in my court.
“Yes.”
She takes a tentative step forward, Hunter’s hands slipping from her shoulders. “Do you promise?”
I shouldn’t. I should backtrack, let her live a life that doesn’t involve me. A place where I can’t hurt her the way my father hurt me. Perhaps not physically, but there are worse things. Mental manipulation rewires the brain in ways that physical pain couldn’t hope to do.
What if I can’t help but be just like him?
“I promise.”
Another step closer. Her shoes have badly drawn skulls all over them. Some have “Pirate V” scrawled underneath. And… fairy wings. An interesting combination.
“Do you want to play Captain Toad with me? Two people can play; you don’t have to wait for your turn.”
I have no idea what Captain Toad is, but I’ll play any games that she wants me to. I’ll do anything to ensure that she never looks at me with hatred in her eyes. The way Hunter did with me for so long. He followed me without thought once, too, and he paid for it.
Olivia turns her gaze on Miles. “Do you want to play?”
“Not really.” A clear rejection but softer than Miles would normally present.
“That’s okay. My friend Sammy doesn’t like video games either. We go outside to kick the ball instead.”
It was smart of Hunter to have his planted garden enclosed, with the open space further into the backyard for child shenanigans. He’s always three steps ahead, thinking of everything.
“A sound compromise,” Miles says. “I don’t want to kick the ball either.” Clarification so that she can’t rope him into that either.
She smiles toothily. “We’ll find something.” Caught hook, line, and sinker.
“It’s almost dinnertime,” Hunter says. “Why don’t you save it for afterwards?”
“How long?” she asks, like she’s had this conversation a thousand times over.
Hunter sighs. Definitely a common debate. “Twenty-five minutes.”
“I could play for twenty minutes,” she says reasonably. I’m impressed; I need to bring her into the boardroom during negotiations.
“Make it fifteen minutes; you need to set the table.”
Olivia beams. “Yes! Let’s go—” She stops. “Dad says I shouldn’t use adults’ first names. Mr. Snow’s first name is Matthew—I saw it on a form—but I call him Mr. Snow.”
Ah, Matthew. Miles isn’t wrong. He has two days, and then we’ll talk.
“Very polite.”
“I don’t want to call youDad.”
“I understand.” I’m not sure that I’m ready for that either. Having her within arm’s reach is surreal enough. I’m quite content with baby steps.
Her face scrunches in concentration. “What about Daz?”
That’s… a choice. I’m not sure what kind of one. “May I ask why?”
“It’s short for Dad Xavier.”
