His brow lifted. “Mostly?”
“I promise she’s fed, clean, and loved,” I said. “We just added a little fun.”
There was a pause, then a huff of laughter.
“Figures,” he said. “Guess she could use that.”
So could I.
That night, after Harper fell asleep curled against me, I carried her to bed, tucking her in the way I imagined he would. When I stepped back into the house, I paused, letting the realization settle fully this time.
Caring for Harper wasn’t just filling time.
It was healing something.
I pressed my hand to my chest, grounding myself in it.
“You’re just babysitting, Dani,” I whispered.
But even as I said it—
I knew that wasn’t true anymore.
Chapter 17
Logan
The job site was calm in a way that kept my shoulders tight.
I felt the faint pinch of the Kevlar at my collarbone and every ounce of tension in my shoulders felt heightened. It was easy to become hyper-aware of every sensation on jobs like this, where there were too many open sight lines, too many exits, and way too much time to think.
I leaned against the railing overlooking the lot, sun beating down on concrete and steel, while the radio clipped to my vest hummed with radio chatter.
I checked the time again. It was mid-afternoon so Harper would be out of school by now and probably at Cami and Hunter’s with Dani. That thought alone led to equal parts relief and irritation.
I told myself it was about Harper. At least that was the truth I stuck to as I stepped into the shade on break and pulled my phone out, thumb hovering for half a second before I hit call.
Hunter answered on the third ring. “Hey, Carter.”
“Tell me you’ve got eyes on my kid,” I said.
He snorted. “She’s right here, man. You’d think she lived at our place with how often she’s over.”
I could hear kids in the background: high-pitched laughter, something crashing, Cami’s voice calling out reminders about shoes and snacks.
“You alive over there, old man?” Hunter said, clearly grinning over his own humor.
“Watch it. I’m not that much older than you.”
“A couple of years counts when your knees sound like Rice Krispies,” he shot back, then shifted the phone. “So, you calling to check on your girl?”
My chest tightened at the phrasing, even though I knew what he meant. “I’m callin’ to check on my kid.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Well, you’re gonna have to be more specific. Which one?”
I scowled. “Don’t start with me.”
Hunter laughed, that familiar sound that had carried us through worse places than this.
