The drive across town takes less than ten minutes. Maplewood’s small enough that nothing ever feels far, but long enough for my brain to recalibrate.
Herb and Leah’s place is already lit up when I pull in. The porch light throws a soft glow over the steps, and I can hear Elle as I step inside the front door.
“…and Dahlia said the penguins huddle because they don’t have houses and also because the wind can go like a hundred miles an hour and blow them into the ocean and then they’d just be—”
I turn to close it quietly, but I hear her pink sneakers hit the hardwood of the hallway.
“Daddy!”
She doesn’t stop to let me answer or even turn around properly, instead launching straight into my side. I catch her automatically, her princess backpack bouncing against her from the force.
“Hey, bug.”
She smells like bubble bath and peanut butter.
“You’re late,” she informs me.
“I am not.”
“You are a little bit.” Her warm amber eyes narrow at me, and mine smile back at her.My favorite view.
There’s a glitter clip shoved into the side of her hair at an angle that suggests she’s had a busy day running around the Parnells’.
Herb leans against the wall behind her, arms folded over a faded Colorado Storm hoodie that’s seen better years. “She’s been watching the clock since five.”
“It was five-oh-two,” Elle clarifies.
“Five-oh-two,” I repeat solemnly.
“Hey, Ev.” Leah waves, coming into view. “She’s eaten, she’s bathed. She’s got half of Antarctica memorized.”
Elle twists in my arms. “Daddy, did you know the wind in Antarctica can freeze your eyeballs if you blink wrong?”
“That… feels unlikely.”
“It’s true,” she insists. “Dahlia said it. But maybe it was eyelashes.” She pauses and frowns. “I think it was eyelashes.”
“Ah. Well. That’s an important distinction.”
She giggles at that, and I set her down so I can crouch to adjust the strap of her backpack, tightening it where it’s twisted.
Herb’s eyes flick to me briefly, assessing in the way he’s always done, back when he was Chief while my life imploded. He’s retired now, but is still a major part of our firefighter family.
“You good?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah.”
Leah steps forward and adjusts the glitter clip that’s hanging off the side of Elle’s head by sheer willpower. “We’ll have her tomorrow too, if you need.”
It’s said lightly, but it’s not. They know I’ve got a few days off now, but that’s never a guarantee in this job.
I nod my quiet thanks, then turn back to Elle.
“You have a good day?”
“Yep. I did a drawing of a whale, but it looked like a potato, so I made it a potato whale, and Leah said I’m very creative.”
“Potato whale,” I repeat.
