Page 119 of Slapshot Bride

By evening, she’s in high spirits.

The drive home is filled with laughter and her rambling about seeing Rachel and Madison again. I soak it all up because every smile, every laugh, every friendship she finds again is another piece of herself falling back into place.

Piece by piece, she's becoming Riley again.

24

RILEY

All Mine

Easton tells me about Emma on a Thursday, casual as anything, standing at the counter with his coffee already halfway gone.

Theo’s road trip childcare fell through. He offered. Emma will be with us Friday through Saturday.

“I should’ve asked you first,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I mean, it’s Emma. That little lady has my heart.”

“Thought so,” he laughs.

He finishes his coffee and rinses the cup. He corners me at the counter, caging me with both of his arms.

“Gotta run for practice, sweetheart. See you soon.” He kisses me, hugs me a little tightly, and he’s gone the next minute.

The smile he leaves on my face stays there for the rest of the day.

Emma arrives Friday at noon with a backpack shaped like a dinosaur, a stuffed rabbit tucked under one arm, and absolutely zero hesitation. She runs into my arms the moment Theo places her on the ground at the driveway.

I lift her and press a kiss to her cheek. “Hi sweetie.”

She giggles.

I drop her, and she walks straight into the living room like she owns the place. I look back to see she’s settled on the couch, her eyes fixed on the kids’ show on the TV. I put it on the minute I heard Theo pull into the driveway.

I have the whole day planned for our little house guest.

Theo stares past my shoulder into the living room and smiles when his eyes return to mine.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Riley. I owe you one.” His face is apologetic, but I wave it off.

“Come on, Emma is a lovely kid, and I honestly don’t mind. Easton is gone till evening, and she’ll keep me company.”

“If you ever need anything, or something comes up, please call me. I have your number on speed dial. I’ll be home as quick as I can.”

“It’s fine, Theo. Really.”

He nods.

He’s gone a few minutes later, and Emma has already constructed something on the living room floor that she informs me is a castle. I crouch down to inspect it. She’s used every throw pillow in the house, two couch cushions, and one of Easton’s training socks she found somewhere.

“It needs water,” she says.

“Where are we getting water?”

She thinks about it seriously. Then she gets up, disappears into the kitchen, and comes back dragging the large mixing bowl from one of the shelves. She sets it in front of the castle and fills it with the remaining cushions.

“Not wet,” she explains.