Page 21 of Finding Little Fiera

“I know that, little girl. I also know why you ran into her. She was hurt because of your actions. You need to apologize to Laura,” Master Mace said quietly.

She crossed her arms, not caring that his voice was so soft she was probably the only one who heard him. “I said I didn’t?—”

His gray eyes turned stormy. “Now.”

Okay, everyone around them heard that. Her jaw clenched. “I’m sorry Iaccidentallyran into you,” she muttered.

Master Mace exhaled slowly. “That’ll do for now.”

He scooped her up before she could argue, settling her gently against his hip. Heat flooded her face as campers stared. He turned to the other girl’s Daddy. “I’m very sorry Laura was hurt. Please let me know if she’s all right or if there’s anything I can do to help.” Turning to Fiera, he added, “We are going to have a talk.”

“But I wanted to do crafts,” she mumbled, her headache shifting from throbbing to pounding.

“Then you should have made better choices,” he said firmly, carrying her toward a few cabins on the other side of the stables.

She slumped against him, secretly comforted by how solid he felt. Big. Strong. Safe.

Inside his cabin, he set her on the couch and examined the bump on her head. “It doesn’t look too bad, but you are going to have a bruise. Wait here while I get some pain reliever and a boo-boo bag from the freezer.” He returned with pain medicine, a bottle of water, and a bright green ice pack shaped like a frog. “Hold this to your forehead until I tell you to stop.”

“Yes, Daddy. What’s the froggy’s name?”

“I don’t think it has a name. What would you like to call your boo-boo frog?”

She studied the frog through narrowed eyes. It was cute. She’d never had a boo-boo frog before. “I think I’ll name him Hopsicle.”

“Hopsicle is a fine name. Now, hold Hopsicle to the bump on your forehead.”

He sat with her for the ten minutes she held the compress to her forehead, pulling her to lean against him and humming a tune she didn’t recognize. His voice was deep and soothing. When he took it from her, she had to admit her headache was gone.

Returning to the couch, he sat beside her, but this time he turned her to face him. “You disobeyed my explicit instructions to keep your sunglasses on,” he said evenly. “And you hurt yourself and someone else because of it.”

“I didn’t mean to. They kept falling off, and after the three hundred millionth time, I just didn’t put them back on.” She needed him to know that, to believe she wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t selfish.

“I know, babygirl,” he said. “But intent doesn’t erase consequences. You’re lucky that all you each got was a bump on the head. What if it had been a concussion? That could have been very serious. Neither of you would be able to participate in all the fun this weekend.”

She sniffled. Scolding sucked. Especially when everything he said was right.

“And speaking of consequences, I want you to write a better apology to Laura. You owe her that,” he continued. “Then you’ll write one to her Daddy. I’ll help you find Laura at the bonfire tonight.”

Her stomach dropped. She had to write two apologies? What was she supposed to say? Yes, she was sorry. She felt awful. She would never deliberately hurt anyone. “Can’t I just write lines?”

“What would that do? This isn’t about punishment. It’s about doing the right thing. If it will help, we can talk about what you can say. I’ll help you all I can, but you have to put pen to paper and write it out.”

She really wished she hadn’t given in to her temper and had kept her sunglasses on. Her Daddy was right. She needed to apologize. It was the right thing to do, but she wasn’t sure how much it would help her feel better about what she’d done.

Master Mace helped her to the kitchen table and gave her paper and a pen. She had an extra sheet, so she doodled swirls and loops while trying to think of the best way to start. Her heart was too heavy to think. True to his word, Master Mace sat down at the table opposite her, ready to help if she asked.

Without looking up from what he was doing, he rocked her world. “Oh, and, Fiera, just because this isn’t a punishment doesn’t mean you don’t have one coming. We’ll be having another discussion after the bonfire tonight.”

Her heart fluttered, nervous and thrilled all at once. “Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

And somehow… she felt safer than she had in months.

Chapter Eight

Mace glanced at the time on his phone. “If we don’t leave soon, we won’t have a place to sit near the bonfire, little firefly.”

She stepped out of the bathroom, and he decided never to complain about how long it took her to get ready again because the results were fucking adorable. Her red skirt had too many ruffles to count, and he was glad to see she’d put on a pair of white leggings underneath. A Montana night in August could be cool.