Page 48 of Freefall

I put my earbuds in, hoping my run will give me a break from the incessant highlight reel of noises Harper made last night. If I couldn’t get her out of my head before, now it’s damn near impossible. Slipping my phone into the case on my armband, I head down the street.

I’m only ten minutes into my run when it buzzes, and any hope I have of getting a break disappears when I see her name on the screen.

Harper

Can you meet at Tucker’s Park at 2? Daisy will be with me

Harper

And this isn’t because of last night

Harper

I really don’t want to keep her from you

What should feel like relief is actually panic settling in my chest. I hate that she can change her mind whenever she feels like it. That she has this control over when, if, and how I get to see my daughter. It makes my palms sweat. I need to figure out a plan for moving forward, but first I’m going to take whatever crumbs she throws me, like the beggar I am.

I’ll be there.

A few hours later, I’m showered and standing at the park entrance, wondering if she changed her mind again or came across another bunny she had to photograph.

Either way, she’s ten minutes late, and I have to take several cleansing breaths because the last thing I want is to scare Daisy when she and Harper do finally get here. The thought only serves to make me more nervous because what if she doesn’t like me? What if she wants nothing to do with me?

Five minutes later, I see a little blonde head bobbing up and down, her wavy hair tied into a long braid that matches Harper’s. They are both wearing denim overalls. Harper’s wearing a forest green shirt underneath, whereas Daisy’s is bright bubblegum pink.

This time, Harper doesn’t offer an excuse for being late and simply says, “Hi” when they get close enough to me.

“Hi,” I say back.

She crouches down so she’s closer to Daisy. “This is Nate. Remember him from the other day?”

Daisy tilts her head, her little gray eyes studying me, tracking down my face until they land on the book in my hands. “What’s that?” she asks, ignoring her mother’s question.

I hold it out to her. “I remember you saying you were writing the other day.” I squat in front of her, mimicking Harper’s position. She turns the paperback over in her hand and starts flipping through the pages. “They’re all blank,” I explain. “I thought maybe you could use it to write your story.”

Only a few seconds pass before her face splits into a wide, toothy grin. There’s a gap on the bottom right where she must have recently lost a tooth, and it looks like the front two on top are still growing in. “This is so cool. Thank you!” she chirps. “Do you want to see my bar routine?”

Just like that, my nerves disappear. Harper smiles, standing up, and I follow. “She was taking gymnastics classes back in Denver,” she explains.

Denver.

Where she ran away to, pregnant and alone. Did she know before she left, or did she find out after?

Of course, I knew she had ended up in Colorado. I also broke down and checked her social media more than once while we were apart. She didn’t post anything about her pregnancy, but she did post a graduation picture. Daisy must have been a little over a year old at the time. I wonder if she was there and, if so, who was holding her. Who took care of her when Harper went to classes? I have so many unanswered questions and only one person I can ask, but I won’t. Not until it feels right.

Instead, I nod at Daisy, my pulse skipping a beat when her warm little hand slips into mine. “Come on!”

I watch, mesmerized, as she pulls herself up on the silver bar that spans the edge of the jungle gym and flips over until she’s balanced at the top. She kicks her legs out a few times, and my heart lurches when she suddenly swings forward. I instinctively reach out to help her down, thinking maybe she didn’t mean to do that, but she’s giggling. “What did you think?”

“That was incredible,” I say honestly. “You’re really strong.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says, and then pauses, her eyes narrowing. “Well, not as strong as Mommy. She still has to help me down sometimes if I get stuck.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“She is nice,” Daisy agrees. “Is that why she’s your girlfriend?”

A lump forms in my throat at the question. I’m about to answer when Harper beats me to it.