“Uhh, hi there,” Travis saidbehindme, his voice carrying stunned surprise.
Twistingaround, I sawTravis staring at twolittlekidswho stood just outside. A little girl clutched her stuffed bunnynext to a boy a few inches taller. Their eyes shared the same round shape and brown color, andtheir matching fair hair madeit easy to peg them as siblings.
Before Travis or I could utter a word, the small girl’s mouth dropped as she stared up at Travis in awe then she threw herself at his legs, tightly holding onto him.
The older boy cleared his voice. “Wow, it’sreally you.”
3
Istared down at the little girl clinging onto my legs, not sure what to say or how toextractmyselffromher tight grip.Her ash-blonde hair was up in askew pig tails, and she wore a dark grey hoodie that swallowed her tiny body.
“Wow,Trav,”Krystansaid from behind me. “You never thought it was important to share with your partner that youspent your days dodgingyour illegitimate kids?”
I was about to turn and tell heroff,but the boy frowned and said, “We aren’t his kids. We’ve just been looking for him.” The boy tried to look past me into the house. “Isthe prettyblondewoman, andthemanwho knows magic here?”
The little girl finally pulled back to look up at me with big, expectanteyeswith long lashes.Recognition dawned on my stunned brain.
“Sophie?” I asked.
She broke into a grin before hugging my legs again. I turned toKrystan, whose snark had left the building as she stared at the small girl cuddling me.
“They are talking about Calan and Emma,”I said toKrystan.
Judgingthe somber look on her face, Irealizedshe’d already guessed that.She only got that serious look in her eye when they were brought up.Krystanliked to pretend she wasn’t bothered by much ofanything, butlosing Emma had been hard on her.
“What are you guys doing here?” I askedthe kids, trying towithdrawmyself from the small girl but she was a stage-five clinger and I didn’t know how to get her off withoutusing force.
“Soph, come on,” her older brother said with some annoyance. Shereleased me, a pout on her face, as she clung harder to her bunny in lieu of my legs.
I remembered snagging Sophie just before she’d been devoured by a soul eater and running like hell. It went against every instinct I had at the time, but I couldn’t just let that little girl die. Something else in my brain had taken over, and I’d saved her. Her parents and brother hightailed itwhile Calan battled the Soul Eater, and I hadn’t stopped running with Sophie until I found our car, threw her in, and drove away until the danger had passed. We’d dropped her off at a fire station soon after,sothe authoritiescouldreuniteherwith her parents while we went on to save the world.
Well, I didn’t help save the world. Emma and Calan did. That’s what they always did. Saving Sophie wasactually oneof the few useful things I’d ever done.
“What are you doing here?” I asked a second time.
Sophie piped up in her tiny adorable voicethat carried a slight lisp. “We’re here to help you fight the monsters.”
Krystanwaspossiblythe worst cook on the face of the earth. Forget cook. Food put-togetherer, she was the worst food-put-togetherer. I leaned back against the kitchen counters, with my arms crossed, not even bothering to cover up the horror on my face as she finally handed over two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Peanut butter was smeared against her forehead and shirt, while a glob of jelly ran down her right boot. The saddest part ofthose sandwicheswas the thumb prints that weredeeplyindented in the bread.
She’d made me a peanut butter sandwich once before and it hadn’t been nearly such poor shape. Apparently, adding jelly was enough to test her every skill.
Her normally straight black bangs were still clumped in pieces from our job earlier, but her face seemed paler than usual these days. I wasn’t sure if it was from losing Emma, the possibility ofusgetting thrown out onto the streetswith her gran, or because we started aback-breakingbusiness that was bringing in pennies.
BeforeKrystanset the plates down in front of Sophie and her brother, Noah, she furrowed her brow and asked, “Are either of you genetically inferior and allergic to peanut butter or gluten?”
They both stared at her with wide eyes before turning to look at me for help.
“Christ,Krystan, just give them the sandwiches,” I said, uncrossing my arms. Her combative nature didn’t come down for a second, not even around little kids. I couldn’t say I was surprised.
Noah took a polite bite of his sandwich, but Sophie continued to skeptically regard her PB&J. Their backpacks were set against the wall. Noah’s black backpack was coveredinplanets and stars while Sophie’s was decorated in pink prancing ponies.Both packswere so full they lookeddangerously close to exploding.
Sophie looked up with a sigh, attempting to push back long wispy hairs from her facewith small hands. “Can I have mac and cheese?”Baby fat still clung to her face and arms.
Noah elbowed his younger sister, and whispered harshly, “You're being rude.”
She whined as she rubbed her arm, “Stooohp. I’m not being rude.” Her cheeks got even pudgier when she pouted. I wasn’t a guy whoconsidered himself a “kid person,”but even I couldn’t deny Sophie was adorable.
Opening a cabinet to my left, I found several boxes of mac and cheese. “They don’t have fun shapes, is that okay?” I asked.
