My heart sank when I didn't see her. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn't looking for Rissa. I was here for Elle, and Elle alone.
I couldn't shake the hold she had on me. The way she'd gotten under my skin, into my head.
Elle bounded up to the car, her backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hey, Dad!" she chirped, sliding into the passenger seat.
I forced a smile, trying to push thoughts of Rissa from my mind. "Hey, kiddo. How was school?"
As Elle launched into a story about her day, I tried to focus on her words, on being present in the moment.But even as I listened, I had the nagging feeling that something had shifted, irrevocably, the moment Rissa had walked back into my life.
And I had no idea what the hell I was going to do about it.
"Dad, practice was so hard today," Elle complained, her ponytail swishing as she gestured animatedly. "Coach is making us run more because Kayla keeps missing jumps. And I swear, if Kayla forgets the routine again?—"
I chuckled, amused by her dramatics. "Maybe she just needs more practice."
Elle scoffed, rolling her eyes. "She needs a new brain."
I shook my head, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. God, she was so much like her mother. Mira had been the same way—passionate, opinionated, never afraid to speak her mind.
The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath. Mira. It had been years since her death, but the pain still felt fresh, raw like a wound that refused to heal.
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the grief that threatened to overwhelm me. I couldn't let Elle seeme like this. I had to be strong for her, had to keep it together.
But even as I fought to maintain my composure, I couldn't escape the guilt that gnawed at me. I was betraying Mira's memory by thinking about Rissa and feeling drawn to her in a way I couldn't explain.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. I had to get a grip. I had to focus on what mattered—my pack, my daughter, my responsibilities.
Rissa was a distraction, a temptation I couldn't afford to indulge. No matter how much I might want to.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to push thoughts of her from my mind. I had to be the alpha my pack needed, the father Elle deserved, even if it meant ignoring the part of me that longed for something more.
Elle's voice broke through my thoughts. "Dad?"
I blinked, realizing I'd been silent for too long. I forced a smile, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled over me. "Sorry, baby girl. Long day."
She eyed me skeptically, her brow furrowing in concern. "You sure you're okay?"
I nodded, focusing my attention back on the road. "I'm fine, Elle. Just tired."
She didn't look convinced, but she let it drop. I was grateful for that. I didn't have the energy to explain the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside me.
As we drove home, my thoughts drifted back to Mira. She would have been so proud of Elle, of the strong, confident young woman she was becoming. Mira would have loved cheering her on at competitions, helping her pick out dresses for dances, and talking her through the ups and downs of teenage life.
But Mira wasn't here. She'd never get to see Elle grow up and never get to share in these moments. The realization hit me like a physical blow, leaving me breathless with grief.
The car filled with an aching quiet, the weight of Mira's absence pressing down on us both. I knew Elle felt it too, even if she didn't say anything.
And then, like a cruel twist of fate, Rissa's teasingvoice from the other day echoed in my mind. "Grumpy dad."
Damn it. Why couldn't I get her out of my head? Why did every thought of Mira lead me right back to her?
I gritted my teeth, my grip tightening on the wheel. I had to get a handle on this. I couldn't let myself get distracted, not now.
I stared down at my hands, still gripping the steering wheel long after Elle had disappeared inside the house. With a sigh, I finally forced myself to open the door and step out onto the driveway. The evening air was warm against my skin, carrying the scents of damp earth and pine.
I made my way inside, hanging my keys by the door with a soft jangle. The house was quiet. Elle had already vanished upstairs. Probably texting her friends or working on homework.
I stood there for a moment, feeling adrift, unsure what to do with myself. My gaze landed on the closed door to my bedroom, and I felt a sudden, irrational urge to go in there. To open that small box I knew was tucked away in the back of a drawer.
