“The backyard is fenced in,” I tell her. “And I’ve got security cameras out there. Plus, there are alarms on the fence that’ll go off if it’s tampered with.”
When Angel frowns, I belatedly worry that I shouldn’t have said anything. If Angel doesn’t want her daughter going outside when it’s starting to get dark, who am I to interfere? “Sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean?—”
Angel flashes me a quick smile. “It’s fine.” She pauses. “So you think it’s safe out there?”
“I know it’s safe,” I reply. “Alec helped with the security. And you can watch the cameras from inside.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and open the security app, then navigate to the feeds for the backyard. “See? You can see everything.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? And what about Murphy? If it’s too cold for him…”
As if he knows we’re talking about him, Murphy comes trotting into the kitchen and sits down with a loud thunk at our feet. Then he gives me a look that mirrors the one Haley just gave us. With a laugh, I say, “He won’t be cold. He loves playing outside. In fact.”
I walk over to the drawer next to the sink and open it. Inside are at least twenty pens, several pairs of scissors, a small screwdriver set, and the much-loved laser pointer. Taking the latter out, I show it to Haley. “Murphy loves playing with the laser pointer in the snow. We call it the magic red dot.”
“Ooh!” Haley bounces on her feet. “Mom. That would be so much fun. Can I play with Murphy outside? Please?”
Angel gives me a questioning glance. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m sure,” I reply. “But if you’d prefer, I can go out there, too. Or we all can.”
“Mom,” Haley drags out the word. “I’m nine. Almost ten. I can go in the backyard by myself. Especially when there’s a fence and security, like Ronan says.”
Angel hesitates for a second. Then she laughs. “Okay. Okay. You can go outside. But—” Her voice dips on the last word. “You do not go outside the fence. And you need to wear your hat and mittens. And zip up your coat. Got it?”
Haley nods quickly. “Got it. I promise.” She darts forward to give Angel a hug. Then she turns and hugs me lightning-fast before dashing back into the living room. As she jogs away, she calls over her shoulder, “Thank you! Come on, Murphy, I just have to put on my coat and we can go play with the magic red dot.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat once Haley’s outside with Murphy. “I didn’t think.”
Angel glances up from my phone, which is lying face up on the counter as it streams the camera feed from the backyard. Onthe screen, Haley is laughing like crazy while she sends Murph racing in circles. “Sorry for what?” Angel asks.
“It wasn’t my place to tell Haley that it was okay to go out back,” I explain. “If you didn’t want her going out there, by me saying it was alright, it put you in an awkward situation.”
“A little,” she concedes. “I’m not used to anyone else being a part of my decisions. Not when it comes to Haley. At least, not since my mom passed.”
Shit.
“I’m really sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” Angel grabs the block of parmesan sitting on the island and looks at me in question. “Do you have a cheese grater? I should have asked while we were at the store.”
“I think so.” I rummage through a few cabinets before coming up triumphant. “Not sure why I have it. But here it is.”
As Angel takes the grater from me, she says, “I’m not upset about it, Ronan. I think…” Her forehead creases. “I tend to be a bit overprotective with Haley. When I first had her, I was so worried about messing things up. People assumed I would, you know. Because I was so young, I couldn’t possibly be a good mom. I wanted to prove them wrong.”
“Your age has nothing to do with it. There are plenty of bad parents who are ten, twenty years older than you. Older than that.”
Angel smiles. “I know that. Now. But back then, I wasn’t as confident in my abilities to raise a child on my own.” She stops to grate the cheese for a few seconds. “I think it’s easier to be overprotective when it’s just me. When my mom was around, she’d tell me if she thought I was going overboard.”
I move beside Angel and hold out my hand for the grater. “Let me do some of it. This is something I’m pretty sure I can do without messing it up.”
Angel looks at me with laughter in her eyes. “Are you that bad of a cook?”
“I’m not terrible. But I’m not great, either. I’d say I’m a solid C student.”
“Okay.” She hands me the grater. “You do the cheese. I’ll start chopping the garlic.” As she picks up one of the cloves of garlic, she adds, “Anyway. I’m not upset that you said something about the backyard. If you hadn’t spoken up, I would probably have told her no. And she wouldn’t be having a great time out there right now.”
“Still—”
Angel gives me a warm smile. “It’s fine, Ronan. Really. Don’t worry about it.” She leans against me and repositions my hand to change the angle of the cheese. “So. I saw a diploma from the University of Maine in the living room. Were you in ROTC? Or did you join the Army afterwards?”
