I can’t help but glance at him again and wonder if she was right.
Chapter 20
Cody
I roll out of bed a minute before my alarm is set to go off. Typical. It’s Sunday morning and also Father’s Day.
I rub the back of my neck and sit here for a second, letting the silence of the lodge settle in. This is the third Sunday I’ve woken up here instead of at my place. Feels weird, but not in a bad way. Just different.
The new routine since Karissa and Emma came home has been to help her first, make sure she’s got what she needs, then work out, shower, eat breakfast, and on a Sunday, head to church. Today’s a little different, though.
After lunch, I’ll head out fishing with Mason, Jesse, and Dad for a few hours. Just the guys. We always fish on Father’s Day. Been doing it for as long as I can remember. Jesse won’t stay long. Ella has something planned for him, being it’s his first Father’s Day and all, but still, I’m looking forward to it.
When I open my door, I expect to hear Emma fussing or something. Instead, I find Karissa in the kitchen, already moving around. She’s still in pajamas—soft gray shorts and an oversized blue T-shirt with a few milk or spit-up stains on it. Her hair’s tied up and she’s focused on whatever she’s reading on her phone.
She startles when she hears me. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”
“No.” I step into the kitchen, observing the slight mess. “Couldn’t sleep?” I ask.
“No, I slept okay. I need you to get the cast iron, though,” she says, pointing to the opened lower cabinet.
I bend down and grab it. “You know, I was gonna make breakfast after I showered,” I remind her, not because I mind that she’s doing it, but because she doesn’t need to be on her feet. “Like usual,” I add.
“I got it,” she says quickly, pouring milk into a mixing bowl.
Before I can press, she reaches across the counter and slides a piece of white paper toward me.
When I see what’s on it, I freeze. There are two tiny footprints of pink paint stamped in the shape of a heart. Below them, her handwriting reads:
This is not your typical Father’s Day card.
It’s a thank-you-for-stepping-up-when-you-didn’t-have-to card. We appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.
– Emma & Karissa
Tears sting the backs of my eyes and I blink. I’m still holding the cast iron in one hand, suddenly unsure what to do with it. A quiet breathy laugh escapes me.
“Aw.” I smile over at her. She’s biting the corner of her nail, watching me like she’s not sure how I’ll react. “Thanks,” I say, keeping my tone playful on purpose, so I don’t make it heavy. I set the pan down and hold out an arm.
She only hesitates for a heartbeat before rounding the counter and leaning into me. I hug her carefully, mindful of the soreness she’s still carrying.
Then her arm slips around my waist and she lets herself relax against me.
I lower my chin so my mouth is close to her temple. “You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur.
“I know,” she says. “But I wanted to.”
She pulls back after a second and goes back to the bowl like the entire gesture didn’t just knock the wind out of me.
I set the card aside, face down, like that’ll help me forget what it said. It won’t. I already know I’ll keep it forever.
* * *
A few hours later we’re piling into my truck for church.
It’s Karissa’s first time going since Emma was born and I can tell she’s nervous. She looked through the diaper bag four times before she finally let me carry it out.
She’s got Emma in a pale-yellow dress and a matching bow on her head, one that’s easily half the size of her skull.
