5
Roman
Iwokeupfeelingmoretired than I had when I’d gone to sleep.
I’d been restless most of the night, tossing and turning, constantly replaying my decision to let Palmer into the house. What else had I been supposed to do? I hadn’t really considered that she might not have anywhere else to go.
I sighed and reached over instinctively for Hailey.
My hand met only air.
I shot upright in bed. The space beside me was empty. I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the blur of sleep, but the bed was unmistakably vacant.
There hadn’t been a single morning since my parents left for the safe house that Hailey hadn’t been there when I woke up. Sometimes, she fell asleep in my bed; other times, she snuck in during the middle of the night. But she was always there.
Always.
I wasn’t sure why the panic gripped me so quickly. I bolted out of bed, not even bothering to grab a shirt, and flung my bedroom door open. I went to my daughter’s room first. Her door was closed and when I pushed it open, calling her name, my stomach dropped. She wasn’t there either. Her bed was rumpled, her covers pulled back like she had just jumped out of it.
I headed for the stairs without another thought. She didn’t usually leave the second floor without me in the mornings, but maybe…
I halted at the top of the stairs as sounds drifted up from below.
A familiar bustling came from the kitchen, muted voices and the clinking of dishes.
I wrapped a hand around the banister, steadying myself. The breaking of the stifling silence made things feel almost normal.
Then, I heard it.
Laughter. Hailey was laughing, and it nearly stopped my heart.
God, I’d missed that sound these last few weeks. Something warm and sharp lodged itself behind my ribs. Hailey had been so somber since my family left, a shadow of her usual, bubbly self.
I forced myself to move and walked down the stairs slowly. When I reached the wide arched entry into my mother’s cozy, well-equipped kitchen, I paused once more.
Another burst of laughter reached me, and I recognized it as Palmer’s. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but it was distinct and definitely belonged to her.
I peeked into the kitchen, eyes widening.
Palmer stood at the stove with a spatula in hand. Hailey was beside her on a step stool, clutching some kind of squeeze bottle.
My heart swelled.
Pure elation lit my daughter’s features. She was more like the joyful little girl she’d been before everything had gone sideways.
I leaned against the archway, watching the two of them work together. I couldn’t see exactly what they were making, but they were having a blast. Eventually, Hailey noticed me and did a double take.
“Daddy!” she squealed in delight.
Palmer’s back straightened, and she spun around to face me. Her cheeks flushed, though I assumed it was from the heat of the stove.
“Come look at this!” Hailey said. “Palmer and I are making artful pancakes! It’s amazing!”
I tilted my head at my daughter. “Artful pancakes?”
What the hell was an artful pancake?
Hailey nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I’ll show you.”
