I push the thought away and step outside onto the small porch, easing the door closed behind me so it doesn’t wake Elle.
Maplewood is still buried in winter, but this morning has a damp edge to it—woodsmoke lingering from someone’s fireplace, thin mist hanging over the road, the snowbanks along the curb softened by a slow overnight thaw. The sky is still undecided, not fully dark but not bright enough to call morning yet.
I rest my forearms on the porch railing and let the cold bite through the thin cotton of my T-shirt while last night rolls through my head. Probably should’ve grabbed a hoodie, but the cold feels useful and sharp enough to cut through the messy thoughts in my head.
Thoughts like Tucker leaning against the bar, his hand flat on the wood and stretching toward her. The easy confidence in his smile, and the way Penny laughed. That real, musical sound withher head tipped back just enough for me to notice the line of her throat. and her blue-tipped hair catching the dim light.
The memory lingers, but I force myself to think of other things. Fletch’s voice cutting across the room. Elle running straight for her like she’d known her longer than a day.
I shift my weight and exhale through my nose.
It doesn’t mean anything.
A guy flirts, and a woman smiles. That’s normal. She’s new, and he’s single. That’s how small towns work.
The image of him offering to show her the lake lingers anyway, and I drag a hand through my hair, then head back inside.
By the time I push the door closed behind me, I hear a soft thump down the hallway. A drawer sliding open. Then another.
Here we go.
Elle appears in the kitchen doorway a minute later, fully dressed in leggings and a sweater with a penguin on the front, with one sock on and the other clutched in her hand.
“Daddy.”
“Morning, bug.”
She squints at the clock on the wall, then back at me. “Is it pancake time?”
“Almost.”
She studies my face for a second. “Is Penny coming?”
I pick up my mug and take a careful sip, keeping my voice level.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up, okay? Sometimes people can’t make it.”
Elle frowns, thinking that through. “She doesn’t say stuff if she doesn’t mean it.”
“No,” I agree quietly. “She doesn’t.”
“She said she’d probably be around,” Elle continues, pulling her second sock on and hopping once to settle it. “That means yes.”
“It means probably.”
Elle shakes her head, hair slipping over her face. “It means yes.”
She says it with absolute certainty, and with a tinge of desperation that squeezes my heart tight. I look down at my coffee instead of at her, because I know what happens when promises aren’t kept.
But Penny doesn’t promise—she has told Elle exactly what she means with careful honesty in every interaction so far, and for some reason, that feels even more important.
“Go brush your teeth,” I say. “Then you can be in charge of setting the table.”
She beams like that’s the highest honor I could’ve given her and disappears down the hall, singing something under her breath about syrup.
Gus trots in a second later, tail already wagging in anticipation of food. He noses my thigh and lets out a hopeful whine, then looks pointedly at the cabinet where his food is kept.
“Not yet,” I tell him.
