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Sage streaked through the kitchen, severing the look between us. Probably good that she did because the fact that I registered any sort of reaction to a look between us had my brow furrowing as I took my last sip of coffee. The day before, with the almost touching her hair and the tripping on a rock and the strange visit to the woodshop, I’d worried that I’d crossed some invisible line. But when I got home after that fucking photo shoot, she was completely fine.
She was acting completely normal on the couch watching a movie, wrapped in the big white blanket, and she even invited me to sit with her.
“Romcom mood?” I asked her as I settled onto the opposite end of the couch.
She hummed, eyes locked on the screen. “Studying some story beats,” she said.
As I didn’t know what the hell that meant, I just nodded, and eventually my eyelids got heavier and heavier.
“Need a nap, old man?”
I grunted. “No. I’m awake.”
She nudged me with her foot, and when I tried to snatch it, she laughed and backed farther into the corner. “Movie not doing it for you?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I laid my head back on the edge of the couch and stretched my legs out onto the upholstered coffee table I’d added last week. “Movie’s fine. Two hot people dancing around each other when everyone knows they’re in love, and they’re the last to admit it. They always end the same.”
Harlow’s gaze was heavy on the side of my face, pressing like a gentle nudge, and I kept my eyes shut. She spoke quietly, and if I had been sleeping, I may not have heard it. “Like dude movies aren’t predictable either,” she whispered. “Oh what a shock, the good guy kills the bad guy in the end.”
A reluctant grin curved my lips. She was right. My eye cracked open. “You want me to wake up and watch, Harlow?”
She sniffed. “No. Take your nap.”
So I did. She left to get Sage from her sister’s, and the rest of the night was football on the couch.
Whatever had happened at the shop was a fluke. An aberration. The ebb and flow of our morning was completely normal. Sage snagged the lunch out of the fridge, then bounced on her toes. “Mom, can you bring me to school early?”
“Why don’t you want to ride the bus?”
Sage shoved the lunch bag into her already stuffed backpack. “So I saw a flyer yesterday. They’re doing a winter indoor flag football league, and I really want to see if the coach will let me play on this one.”
Harlow crossed her arms, the edge of her hip leaning against the counter. “Do you want me to email him or call the school or something?”
Sage shook her head. “I can ask. It’ll be more persuasive coming from me.”
Harlow and I traded a look. We both knew it wouldn’t, but I had to give the kid credit for wanting to take ownership of it.
“How’d the fall team do?” Harlow asked. “The one you were too late to join?”
“I wasn’t that late,” Sage pointed out. “I only missed one game.”
“Fine.” Harlow sighed. “How did the team do that wouldn’t let you join because you missed one game?”
“Terrible. I think they only won one game.”
“Nowhere to go but up, then? That’s … good.”
Sage didn’t look so convinced. “Or they could lose all their games, so they could actually do worse.”
Harlow patted her on the head. “That’s my little pessimist.”
“Wonder where she got that from,” I muttered. With the simple narrowing of her eyes, Harlow had me clearing my throat. “Actually, I can drop you off, Sage.”
“Sweet!” She tore up the stairs. “Just gotta get my sweatshirt. I’ll be ready in a second.”
Harlow watched me tug my work boots on. “You don’t have to do that if it’s out of your way.”
“It’s not out of my way.” I glanced up briefly while I tied the laces tight. “I drive right past the school heading to this house.”
