“Cal.” I’m on autopilot as I clutch her small palm. The size difference between us is comical, but her grip is strong as she shakes my arm like a pool noodle.
“Hi, Cow-l.”
“Cal,” I repeat slower this time, emphasizing the ah sound.
“Cam-eee.” She drags out her name while pointing at her chest, instantly making me feel like an idiot for trying to teach her how to properly say my name.
Who cares how she says it? Just get out of here.
“Well, it’s been great talking to you…” I take a step around her.
“Wait.”
Jesus, take the wheel and drive me off the nearest cliff please.
She runs ahead and stops in front of me, blocking my path toward the car. “You owe me a dollar.”
I blink down at her. “For what?”
“The swear jar.” She holds out her hand. “Dinero, por favor.”
“The swear jar? What the hell is that?”
Her big eyes stretch wide. “Uh-oh. Now you owe me two dollars.”
“I see they’re teaching extortion from a young age.”
“What’s extorshee-on?”
I give my head a good shake. “Forget about it.” I sidestep her and put five feet between us before she is chasing after me.
“Hey! What about my money?”
I shut my eyes and count to five. Sweat begins to slide down my neck from my internal temperature spiking. I have absolutely no experience with children besides encountering and avoiding the occasional kid in public. Until Declan and Iris have one of their own, I’m grossly underprepared to deal with any of this.
Just give her the money and go. I check my wallet for singles but come up empty. “Sorry, kiddo, but I don’t have any dollars.”
“How about that?” She points at the stack of hundred-dollar bills with big eyes.
“Do you even know how much these are worth?”
Her blank stare doesn’t give me much to go off.
“Fine. Whatever. Here you go.” I give her one of the bills.
“But you said two bad words.”
“These are worth more than a dollar.” I tap the numbers to emphasize. “That’s a hundred. See?”
Are you really trying to reason with a kid?
Her brows scrunch together as she stares at the bill. “Hold on. Let me count to make sure… One…two…three…” She traces each number in the air like she is writing on an invisible sheet of paper.
For fuck’s sake. At the rate of her counting, I’ll spend the whole morning here.
I grab another hundred and pass it to her. “There.”
She pokes her tongue through the gap where one of her front teeth should be. “Oooh.”
“Bye.” I give her a half-assed salute and resume my walk toward my car.
“Will you play with me?” She follows behind me like a shadow.
“I can’t.”
Almost there. The blurry numbers on my license plate get clearer with each step closer to my car.
She runs to keep up with my long strides. “Why not?”
“I’ve got somewhere to be.” You’re so close. I dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door.
Maybe if you throw another hundred on the ground, it will distract her long enough for you to get away.
“Where are you going?”
Anywhere but here is preferable at the moment. “A meeting.”
“Oh.” Her smile falls. “Will you be back?”
“Uhm…maybe?” My skin itches.
“Yay! Next time you will play with me.” Her hands clap.
The kid needs meds or a muzzle. That much is obvious. She reminds me a lot of myself at that age, bouncing with energy and endless rambling. It’s a mystery how my brothers didn’t try to suffocate me in my sleep.
“Sorry, kid. I’m not here to play with you.”
“Oh. But Wyatt plays with me.”
Gravel kicks up underneath my shoes from my sudden stop. “Who?”
“Wyatt? It’s a spelled like Y-A-T.”
“What’s his last name?”
Her shrugs. “Umm…deputy?”
That’s his damn job, not his name, but it’s all the confirmation I need. Lana and he used to bicker like siblings whenever they were in the same room, and for the longest time I thought they hated each other.
To think you once considered him a friend.
My ears pounds from the blood rushing through my body, bubbling beneath the surface of my skin. Of all the people I thought I could trust, Wyatt was pretty high up on that list. We spent most summers together, and he even visited me twice in Denver while I was attending university. When Lana and I were together, whether we were just friends avoiding the inevitable or officially starting to date, he never seemed the least bit interested in her.
Probably because he was biding his time until you fucked everything up indefinitely.
My muscles strain underneath my shirt as I allow myself to acknowledge the emotion I have no right to feel.
Jealousy. It has a mind of its own, devouring all rational thoughts. Deep down, I know that I have no right to be jealous when I’m the one who left. Except I trusted Wyatt to watch after her for me.
Sounds like he did a lot more than that.
I’m glad Wyatt and I aren’t friends anymore. It’ll make it all the easier for me to kick his ass once I get a hold of him again.
What if he is the man who you saw kissing Lana outside of Last Call Bar two years ago?
“The fucking snake,” I blurt out.
Cami gasps.
I flinch. “Shit.”
Her mouth drops open.
“Damn?” My voice cracks.
She shakes her head back and forth. I sigh as I pull out my wallet yet again and hand her three more hundred-dollar bills. The way her eyes light up as she squeezes the money is kind of endearing.
You’re into kids now?
No, but their fascination with money is pretty funny.
“Are you okay, Cow-l?”
Get a hold of yourself.
I unclench my fists. “I better get going.”
She follows behind me like a shadow.
“Camila!” Lana shouts.
We both look up to find Lana stomping down the front steps.
“Busted,” Cami mumbles under her breath. She looks identical to Lana with how she averts everyone’s gaze when in trouble.
Lana rushes over to us and props her hand on her hip like her mother did whenever she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Which, no thanks to me, was a lot.
“Why do you insist on talking to strangers after everything we have talked about?”
Being referred to as a stranger shouldn’t sting, but it does, especially after learning that Wyatt is involved in Lana’s daughter’s life now that I’m out of the picture. It proves that no matter what history Lana and I have, it’s just that.
History.
“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Cami rocks back on her heels.
Lana squats down and looks Cami in the eyes. “You can’t go talking to everyone you meet—even if they look nice or answer your questions.”
“You think I look nice?” I plaster on my usual grin, hoping if I fake being happy for long enough, I can erase the uncomfortable feelings swirling inside of my chest.
That’s what you always hope.