The thought settles in, firm and familiar, something I can stand on, and I let it, even as something quieter underneath it refuses to fully go away.
I can’t shake the way she looked at him.
Or the way he looked at her.
And that’s the part that keeps slipping through the cracks, the part that makes this harder than I want it to be.
If he means it…
Then everything I’ve built to keep her safe is about to be tested.
And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
By the time I pick Hadley up that afternoon, she’s already halfway through a story before I’ve even signed her out, her words tumbling over each other like she’s been saving them all day and finally found the right place to let them go.
“He has a horse,” she tells me as soon as she reaches me, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the door like we’re late for something important. “A big one, not a pony, but I think I could ride it if he helped me, and he said someday might be soon, and he has brothers and they’re all uncles, and one of them makes bad food.”
I blink down at her, trying to keep up. “That’s… a lot of information.”
She nods like that’s exactly the point. “I didn’t get to tell you all of it yet.”
“Clearly,” I say, pushing open the door and guiding her out into the late afternoon sun. My grip is steady even as my mind catches on one part of that sentence and refuses to let go.
Someday might be soon.
I don’t react to it, not outwardly. I’m not about to turn this into something it isn’t in front of her, but it settles in anyway. Right next to everything else I’m still trying to sort through.
“And he said I could watch them eat cookies,” she continues, not missing a beat, swinging our joined hands as we walk. “But Ialready had one, so I told him I’d make sure they didn’t eat all of them without me, and he said that was a good job.”
“Did he?” I ask, keeping my tone light even though there’s a part of me that notices every single thing she’s choosing to repeat.
She nods enthusiastically. “He said I was good at it.”
“Guarding cookies?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, completely serious. “It’s important.”
I huff out a small laugh despite myself. “I can see that.”
We reach the car, and I help her climb in. Buckling her seatbelt while she keeps talking. Her voice softer now but no less focused.
“And he knows about horses and fences and he wasn’t mad when I called him Daddy,” she adds, like she’s checking something off a list she’s been building in her head.
My hands still for a fraction of a second at that, the word hitting differently coming from her now that we’re not at the ranch. That moment where everything felt too big to fully process.
“He didn’t look mad?” I ask carefully.
She shakes her head. “No. He looked like he was thinking.”
That lands in a way I don’t expect.
Thinking.
I close her door of the car gently and walk around to the driver’s side, giving myself those few seconds to pull everything back into place before I get in.
“Did you like him?” I ask once we’re both settled, keeping my voice even, neutral, like the answer doesn’t matter more than anything else right now.
Hadley doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” she says simply. “He’s mine.”
