Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

RYLAND

Why am I nervous?

This is stupid.

There is no reason for me to be nervous at all.

Yet as I stand in front of Gabby’s door, ready to knock, I can feel the shake in my legs.

Mac is with Hayes and Hattie right now, swimming and having the time of her life. They sent me a picture of her on the horse float, wearing sunglasses and drinking a lemonade. I immediately made it the wallpaper on my phone because the picture is pure joy, and I know Cassidy would do the same thing.

I lift my hand to the door and knock on it a few times before sticking my hands in my pockets. I wait for a few seconds and the door opens, revealing my beautiful girl, standing there in a pair of leggings, a tight crop top, and a backward hat with her hair down.

Fuck she looks so good.

“Hey.” She smiles up at me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. You free right now?”

Confused, she nods. “I’m free.” She then looks around. “Are you?”

“Mac is with Hattie and Hayes. I was hoping to steal you for a date.”

“Really?” she asks, looking hopeful.

“Yeah, but it’s sort of a selfish date.”

“Any date I’m happy with. What’s on your mind?”

I take her hand in mine and stare at the connection. “I was kind of hoping that you could go to a home goods store and help me pick out a few things for my place? Then I could take you to dinner.”

When my eyes meet hers, I see them light up with enthusiasm. “Really?”

“Yeah, you interested?”

“More than interested. I’m honored.” She brings our connection to her lips and presses a quick kiss to my knuckles. “Let me change.”

I tug on her so she’s pulled right into my chest. “Nah, I like you like this.”

“Ryland, I’m in no way ready for a date with you.”

“Babe, it doesn’t matter what you wear. I just want you with me. Plus, you look hot.” I pull away to scan her, my tongue wetting my lips. “Really fucking hot.”

She glances down at herself and then back up at me. “The things that turn men on these days.” She shakes her head. “Let me grab my bag and phone. One sec.”

She goes back into her apartment, and my eyes fixate on her round rear as she collects a fanny pack and her purse. She drapes the fanny pack over her shoulder like a cross bag and locks up.

“You’re wearing that wrong, you know,” I say as she turns to me and takes my hand where we walk down the stairs together.

“My belt bag?”

“Belt bag?” I ask on a laugh. “Gabby, that’s a fanny pack.”

“Not according to the youth. This is a belt bag.”

“The youth are wrong,” I say as I open the passenger side door to my truck for her. She slides to the middle seat like the good girl she is. “That’s a fanny pack and it will always be a fanny pack.”

“Look at the old man grump, unable to change his ways.”

I grab her seat belt and buckle her up before gripping her chin and saying, “Deal with it.” I press a quick kiss to her lips and then round the front of the truck and get in on my side.

I start the truck, buckle up, and rest my hand on her thigh as I back out of the driveway and onto the road.

“Where are we headed?” she asks as she leans into me.

“There’s a discount home goods store?—”

“Jackson’s Home Goods?” she asks.

“Yes. I thought it would be a good place to at least start. And if we have to go somewhere else, we can.”

“Jackson’s is a great place. Good quality items that are affordable. I got a few things there when Bennett and I first moved to the area.”

“So good choice?” I ask with insecurity.

“Great choice,” she says as she places her hand on mine for reassurance. “Now, what exactly are you looking for?”

“I don’t really know. I was kind of hoping you’d guide me. I think I want to focus on the living room and make it more homey, since that’s where we spend a lot of our time. Mac’s room is fully decorated, so no need to worry about that.”

“And what about your room?”

“That doesn’t need anything special, just a place to sleep.”

“You know,” she says, rubbing her thumb over the back of my hand, “sometimes we have to treat our bedrooms as a place of sanctuary, especially if we have problems finding our best sleep.”

“Are you trying to allude to something?” I ask.

“I’m just saying, you don’t always have to focus all your energy on everyone else. You can focus that energy on yourself, too. You can create a space for yourself that allows you to sleep better. I know you struggle with it.”

“I don’t need decorations in my room to sleep better.”

“Then what do you need?” she asks.

I pull out onto the main road and head north toward Jackson’s, which is outside of town. “It’s not anything you can buy at a store,” I answer.

“What is it?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Ryland,” she says as I can feel her eyes on me. “Tell me.”

Feeling ridiculous, I say, “The best sleep I’ve had in a long while was the night we spent in San Francisco. So it seems to me what I need in my bedroom . . . is you.”

“Oh,” she says, growing silent.

I glance in her direction and spot the blush on her cheeks, which makes me smile. She might be confident and strong and can put me in my place when she wants to, but the moment I toss her a compliment or the truth in her direction, those cute cheeks of hers turn pink.

“So unless you know where I can buy one of you in the store, I think it’s a lost cause.”

“Hmm,” she says. “Maybe I can google it.”

I chuckle. “Good luck with that. Pretty sure the one and only is sitting right next to me.”

“This coming from the guy who didn’t want to be in a relationship.”

I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a changed man.”

“I guess you are, but I still would like to make your room into something more.”

“I have decorations packed away. When I was at the farmhouse, sleeping on the couch, Hattie actually redid Cassidy’s room, took care of all of her stuff and turned the room into something for me, so I have all those things she did packed away. Just need to put it together.”

“Then let me help you,” Gabby says. “Because I promise, once you get things set up, you might find that you sleep better because you’re more comfortable.”

“Or you can lend yourself to me, and that will make me sleep better.”

She chuckles. “Or that.”

I squeeze her thigh. “If you want to help me with my bedroom, then I guess we can put it together, but I do have one request.”

“Let me guess, you want me to decorate your place naked?”

I laugh because I didn’t expect her to say that. “Not what I was going to say, but now that you suggested it . . .”

“I’m not walking around your house naked.”

“Says the girl who spread her legs on my dining room table.”

“You were the one who spread me.”

“Ehh, I remember it differently.”

“Of course you do.” I can practically hear her eye roll. “All clothes will remain on because we have a task to do.”

“Shame, I was willing to decorate with the willy out.”

Her laughter fills the cab of the truck. “Willy out? Seriously?”

“Yeah, might even dance for you.”

“You’d never,” she scoffs. “The day you dance naked for me is the day . . . hell, I don’t even know because it would never happen.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask. “I’d dance naked.”

“You are such a liar.”

She snuggles in close, and I’ll be fucking honest, I’m not the kind of guy who would dance naked, but if it made Gabby smile, if it made her laugh, hell, I’d do it.

“Might do it for the right smile,” I say.

She squeezes my arm. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. But back to your request with your bedroom. What is it?”

“Oh right, your perfume. I want you to spray my room with your perfume.”

“Seriously?” she asks.

“Yeah, seriously. If I can’t have you in my room, I at least want to smell you.”

“My, my, my. Look at you, Rowley. It almost seems like you’re really into this relationship thing.”

“When it’s with you, I am.”

“I think we got too much,” I say as I stare down at a porcelain horse in my hand that I just unwrapped from its protective tissue paper.

Gabby comes up behind me, places her arm around me, and chuckles. “You’re the one who got the horse. That was not on me.”

I point at the embroidered horse throw pillows on the couch. “And those, whose idea were those?”

“Those might have been me, but they look so cute in here, and Mac is going to love them.”

I let out a sigh and place the porcelain horse—that I got for seventy percent off probably because no one else wanted it—on the coffee table. “If you had told me ten years ago I’d be decorating my purple house with horse decor to appease a four-year-old, I would have told you, you lost your mind.”

She laughs. “But it’s adorable, and there are not many horse things, only a few.” Gabby pulls out a throw blanket with mini horses on it, causing me to raise my brow at her. “Really, there’s not that much?”

“Okay.” I chuckle and then unload the rest of the bags, putting everything on the coffee table. “At least the area rug is horse-less.”

“Which I’m still upset about because I really was in love with that green area rug with the mini brown horses all over it. It would have been so cute.”

“It would have been absurd,” I reply. “I can get on board with the throw pillows and the blanket, and even the porcelain horse, but the rug is where I put my foot down.”

“Such a shame. It could have been a real eye pleaser.”

“That rug was not an eye pleaser.” I pick up a plant and hold it out, unsure what to do with it.

Gabby takes it from me and places it on a side table along with the modern lamp that she picked out that I actually liked. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m grateful that you’re here because I never would have picked half of this stuff.”

“I’m glad you asked. I love doing this.”

“Well, I feel useless.”

“Why don’t you move that toy shelf over between the windows and start filling the cubes with Mac’s toys.”

“Now that I can do,” I say, loving the simple task because placing plants and hanging pictures with Command Strips that Gabby insisted I get does not seem like something I’d be good at.

“Is Mac spending the night at Hattie and Hayes’s house?”

I shake my head. “Hayes has to head to San Francisco early in the morning, and Hattie’s going with him. They’re going to drop Mac off around eight.”

Gabby takes a look at the time on her phone. “Oh, we’ll be done with time to spare. That’s if we don’t get distracted.”

“And how would we get distracted?” I ask with a grin.

“You know exactly how and it’s not going to happen. We’re putting this living room together so when your niece comes home, she’s greeted with a great surprise, which you’ll have to record for me because I’m going to want to see her reaction.”

“That I can do.”

Gabby starts working on hanging some pictures, laying them on the ground before she puts them on the wall. I grab the iron and ironing board and start releasing the wrinkles from the curtains.

“What do you do in your spare time?” I ask, wanting to know more about Gabby.

She applies Command Strips to the back of the frames and answers, “Watch baseball, read about baseball, talk to Bennett about baseball.”

“A girl after my own heart. I don’t meet many people with such a passion for the sport. I usually see that kind of enthusiasm for football.”

“Same,” she says as she hangs her first picture, one of Cassidy and Mac together. It’s my favorite picture of them out on the farm before Cassidy got sick. “It kind of annoys me because baseball was America’s pastime and it almost seems like it’s a dying sport now, which makes me sad.”

“I agree. Do you think the new rule changes will help bring more people into the sport?”

She shrugs and hangs another picture, which is of Mac and me in the Redwoods. We took it a month or so ago. She’s on my shoulders, and we’re both looking up at the tree. “I mean, it adds a bit of drama with the pitch clock. But I don’t know if it will bring more viewers to the game. I just think society has changed. We’re more about instant gratification. It’s hard for us to just sit still, phones down, and enjoy a game that moves at a slower pace, but still offers the same kind of thrill and excitement that something like football offers.”

“I like the pitch clock rule. I remember watching baseball with my dad—when he was sober—and listening to him bitch and complain about the batters and how they’d step out of the box, readjust the straps of their batting gloves every single time, tug on their helmet, and take all the goddamn time in the world before they stepped back into the batter’s box. Drove him nuts, and I remember thinking it was one of the very few things my dad and I agreed on.”

“Ugh, I hated that too. I understand the importance of establishing a routine to trigger your muscle memory before going up to the plate, but adjusting your batting gloves every time is not the way to do it. There was this one season, I think when Bennett was a freshman, and he was still trying to establish himself, and he started the whole batting glove thing. I told him to stop it immediately. The way your gloves feel will not get you a hit. It’s the mechanics. So that’s what he focused on.”

“You’re very smart, you know that?”

“It’s why David hired me,” she says with a wink.

I chuckle and then set my second-to-last curtain panel over the couch. “You know, the more I think about that situation, the more I wonder if I would have hired you.”

“I think you would have,” she says with confidence as she takes a step back to observe her work. The third and final picture is all of us at Aubree and Wyatt’s wedding, in front of the barn and staggered on hay bales. “You’re a smart man. You would have grilled me on my knowledge, found out what an asset I’d be to you, and you would have hired me.”

I rest the iron on the wrinkled fabric, moving it up and down. “I think you’re right. I’d have hired you and then hated every second of it because I wouldn’t have been able to keep my eyes off you, nor would I have ever found out what you tasted like.”

She pauses and turns toward me. With a finger pointed in my direction, she says, “None of that. We’re not getting distracted. We have a task at hand, and your sweet-talking can’t throw it off.”

“It’s the truth though,” I say.

Her expression softens. “I guess we have David to thank, then.”

“No, we’re not going that far.”

She laughs again, and my entire body relaxes as the sound fills my living room. My decorated living room. A room that will reflect joy and happiness, and family. A place I know Mac will love, and a place where she can feel at home, where she can feel her mother surround her, and where she can spend her childhood years growing up.

Rain pelts the windows as I break down the last cardboard box for recycling. Gabby just finished vacuuming, and we’re about ten minutes out from Mac arriving. Hayes and Hattie had to carefully buckle her up while she was passed out, the Chewys having to be dragged out of her shirt so her car seat fit properly.

Gabby places the vacuum in the hall closet and then walks up to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “It looks so good.”

“Amazing,” I say, taking in the living space. Because Gabby works fast, not only were we able to fix up the living room, but she also adjusted some things in the kitchen, added a potted plant to the dining room table, and hung more pictures in the stairwell leading to Mac’s bedroom. She marveled at how much Mac looked like Cassidy while I marveled at the woman who spent her evening helping me make my house into a home.

We didn’t have time for my bedroom, but I told her it was fine, and we could plan to do it another time. At least I have a bed off the floor and working nightstands. The rest can be put together when there is time. She did slip back to her house for a moment to grab her perfume and spray my bedroom. I’ll be enjoying that later tonight.

“Thank you so much for everything you did tonight.”

“Of course. It was so much fun. I really hope Mac loves it.”

“I know she will,” I say as I look out the window. “It’s pouring. Let me walk you to your apartment before Hattie and Hayes arrive.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you getting wet.”

“And I’m not going to be an asshole and let you walk back to your place unaccompanied.”

“It’s like thirty feet away.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, taking her hand in mine.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she says as I bring her out into the rain, the drops careening down from the sky at such a high speed that the water pelting the blacktop sounds more like a roar than a simple rainstorm. “Seriously, Ryland.”

But I don’t listen. I bring her out into the rain with one tug, and instead of rushing to her apartment, I wrap my arm around her waist and start dancing.

“What are you doing?” She laughs as we both get drenched in seconds.

“Dancing . . . be happy it’s not naked.”

She presses her hand to my chest. “What a show that would be for the neighbors.”

“Pretty sure I’d be fired since some students live on this street.”

“And here you are, dancing with me in public, in the rain.”

“Because . . . why not? Rain is often looked upon as an inconvenience. No one wants it to rain when they’re outside, but I don’t know. Sometimes I think the best things happen when it rains.”

She wipes away the water from her eyes, then returns her hand to my chest. “Like what?”

“Growth,” I answer. “Not just in a natural sense, but think about it, it helps us grow patience, and understanding, and makes us slow down. It’s Mother Nature’s way of telling us to sit back and enjoy for a moment. So that’s what we’re doing, we’re enjoying.”

“I love that,” she says as we sway under the pelting rain.

The smell of wet asphalt surrounds us as pools of water form around our feet, and the sound of water rushes around us.

It’s peaceful.

And we do just as I say, we slow down.

We relish in the moment, letting our senses take over as we simply sway back and forth under the rain.

It isn’t until I catch some headlights coming down the road that I realize Hattie and Hayes are almost here.

“They’re pulling up,” I say to her.

Gabby lifts her head and smiles up at me. “Thank you for the dance.”

“Thank you for the night.”

I tip her chin up, then kiss her in the rain, my heart beating a mile a minute as she grips onto me, holding me so tight, as if she never wants this moment to end.

Trust me, if I had it my way, I’d dance with her, in the rain, all night. She feels so good in my arms. “Let me know how Mac likes it in the morning.”

“I will,” I say. “Come over tomorrow night?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She kisses me once more and then takes off up the steps to her apartment just as Hayes and Hattie pull up.

But rather than keeping my eyes on the car in front of me, I’m focused on Gabby and her retreating body, slipping into her apartment.

I think I might be in a whole lot of trouble where she’s concerned.

“No, no, Uncle Ry Ry, it goes around your waist. Not your leg,” Mac says, tugging on the tutu skirt she wants me to wear.

“Yeah, I’m aware, but it won’t fit around my waist. I’m too big.”

Hands on her hips, she stares at me. “It looks weird.”

“I don’t know, I think I make it look good.”

She shakes her head and heads back into the house. “Where are you going?”

“Stay there,” she calls out.

Sure, not a problem. I love standing out in the backyard, wearing a tutu around my calf, a crown on my head, and an obscene amount of Cassidy’s lipstick on my lips.

Mind you, Mac’s wearing a Batman mask, a cape around her neck, and a foam sword sticking out of the top back of her shirt. There’s nothing wrong with the role reversal, I actually welcome it, but she could have at least stayed in the lines of my lips when applying the lipstick. I just look foolish with unlined lips.

I will admit, though, that this neighborhood was the right choice. It’s quiet, doesn’t have much traffic besides residents, and there isn’t one vacation rental on the street, leading to a peaceful space. I only wished we had more kids Mac’s age for her to play with.

And the house, well, let’s just say Mac was ecstatic a few days ago when she woke up and saw the living room decorated with horses, but surprisingly, that was not what made her the happiest. It was the pictures of Cassidy hung on the wall. She laid the new horse throw blanket down on the floor in front of the picture and played with the Chewys, and every once in a while, she stared up at the picture and smiled at her mom.

Fucking gutted me.

But also, I couldn’t have been happier because I knew Mac was happy.

The sound of a car slows down, and when I look toward the shared driveway, I see Gabby’s car pull up. My heart flutters as I see her get out of her car, still wearing her baseball cap that she wore at practice, a pair of spandex shorts, and an Almond Bay baseball shirt that I gave her—not one of mine because that would be obvious since it would be very big on her.

She pulls out her water bottle and her bag and then heads toward the stairs but pauses when she sees me standing in the grass under the oak tree. She tilts her head to the side, taking me all in, a smile tugging on the corner of her lips.

“Do not laugh,” I say to her.

“I’d never,” she replies, her cheeks twitching.

“You’re such a liar.”

The back door opens and closes, and Mac comes storming out with her entire bag of dress up.

“I brought all the skirts.” She dumps them on the grass, and when she sees Gabby, she says, “Hi, do you want to play with us?”

“Oh.” Gabby glances at me. “That’s okay. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“No, we want you to play,” Mac says as she walks up to Gabby and takes her hand. I see the panic in Gabby’s eyes when she looks at me. It’s been a week and a half since we’ve officially been together, and in that time, Gabby has kept her distance whenever Mac has been around. But it seems like Mac has other plans.

And you know what, I don’t mind. I’m so comfortable at this point that I almost want to see how Mac gets along with Gabby, so I nod, letting Gabby know that it’s okay for her to hang, which seems to ease the panic.

“What’s your name again?” Mac asks as she forces Gabby to take a seat on the blanket we have laid out.

“Gabby.”

“Oh right,” Mac says. “Do you like superheroes?”

“Love them.”

“Want to be Robin? I’m Batman.”

“I’d love to be Robin,” Gabby says.

“Great.” Mac digs through the clothes and hands Gabby a Spider-Man mask and a tie. “Here you go, you’re Robin. Put them on.”

Gabby cutely smiles and slips the pre-knotted tie over her head and the mask over her eyes. “And who is your uncle?”

Mac pulls her sword out of the back of her shirt, well, attempts to, but it gets stuck, so Gabby kindly helps her, and once it’s released, Mac holds the sword up to me and pokes me in the leg. “This is Godzilla, and she’s trying to eat us alive.”

“Nooo,” Gabby says in shock and then stands, holding her hands out, ready to karate chop me. “How dare she try to eat us. How do we get rid of her?”

“Attack!” Mac screams and then, to my dismay, lunges the sword right into my junk.

Man.

Fucking.

Down.

“Mother of . . . God,” I groan as I buckle to my knees and then fall right to the ground face-first.

Ungodly pain surges up my legs and into my stomach as I feel my testicles attempt to crawl inside my body, seeking out protection from the gremlin with the sword.

“Oh God,” Gabby says as she drops down to check on me, only for a foot to land directly on my back.

A four-year-old stomp between the shoulders.

With what little energy I have left in me, I glance up toward Mac, who is looking up toward the sky. Her sword is pointed at the clouds, and her one foot presses into me, claiming me as conquered.

“Got her. She’s been destroyed,” Mac says with pride, only to turn toward me, see that my eyes are open, and then clash the sword down to my neck, where she slits me with the steel foam of death. “Nice try.”

To avoid any more pain, I close my eyes and stick my tongue out of my mouth as I attempt to breathe through the radiating pain.

“Now she’s destroyed.” Mac lets out a cackle that makes my ass shrivel up in fear. The kind of cackle that shouldn’t belong to any little girl.

“You stay here with Godzilla while I grab the Chewys. It’s time for their feast.”

Mac takes off inside the house, and that’s when I let out a low, garbled moan.

“Uhhhhhhh, fuck . . . me.”

Gabby’s hand finds my back, where she rubs me soothingly. “Are you okay?”

“Nope,” I say, staying flat on my stomach, because if I roll over, I’m exposed to the evil that is my niece and I can’t take another blow to the testicles.

“God, I didn’t even see it coming or else I’d have tried to stop her,” Gabby whispers.

“No one saw it coming,” I croak. “Fuck, I . . . I think she really did slice them off.”

“It was quite the stab, she got her hips behind it. Honestly, I think she has some power you can harness, maybe get her involved in baseball. She could have a mighty swing.”

“Great, just another way for her to get me in the nuts.”

“Now, was it your actual balls or did you get partial penis?”

“Does it matter?” I ask, still holding my junk, afraid if I let go, it might fall off.

“Just genuinely curious.”

“Balls, Gabby, she got me in the balls.”

“Good to know.” She pats my back. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Make sure she doesn’t attack me again,” I say, taking in deep breaths to combat the shrinking I feel between my legs.

Just then, Mac reappears. “Time to eat, Chewys.” She moves in beside me, and then both horses start chomping at my fragile body. “Look, Chewy Chondra is eating Uncle Ry Ry’s butt!”

“Okay, no butt eating,” I say, causing Gabby to snort.

“Why not?” Mac asks.

“Because it’s inappropriate to eat butts.”

“But Uncle Hayes said he was going to eat Aunt Hattie’s butt, and she laughed.”

Jesus Christ.

“They shouldn’t have said that,” I say, making a note to have a conversation with my sister about appropriate language around a four-year-old.

“Then they need to get in trouble,” Mac says and then makes Chewy Charles attack my neck.

“Gentle,” I remind her as I’m starting to gain feeling back in my legs.

“They said you don’t taste good. You’re rotten.” And then she takes off toward the swing with the Chewys.

“Probably because my balls are now expired, and the rest of my body has turned to rot.”

“You realize that your balls don’t control your entire body,” Gabby whispers.

“Right now, they do,” I say as I start to roll over but check for the gremlin first. When she’s firmly set in swinging, I sit up and bring my knees to my chest. “Christ.”

“Are you going to need me to gently take care of your sensitive bits tonight?”

“That’s if I have any left.”

Gabby rolls her eyes and stands. “You’re being very dramatic.”

“You didn’t just get a sword plowed between your legs.”

She leans down and whispers, “Pretty sure I did over a week ago . . . and I survived.” She winks and then takes off toward the swing, where she pushes Mac.

“Is Gabby home?” Mac asks as she picks up a raspberry and puts it on her finger.

“I don’t know,” I answer even though I know damn well that she is and that she’s cooking some pasta dish for herself, completely naked. She sent a picture, and I nearly came in my goddamn pants.

“I like her,” Mac says.

“Oh, you do?”

Mac nods and places another raspberry on her finger, lining them up to look like alien hands. It’s how she eats them best. “She’s nice and she likes to play with me. Do you think she’ll play with me after dinner?”

“Uh . . . not sure. She might be doing her own things.”

And this is what I was sort of worried about, Mac getting attached. And it’s not like Gabby has been over at all when Mac has been awake. She played with her on Tuesday when I had my world rocked by a sword, and that was it. But ever since then, Mac has been asking about Gabby. Over and over again.

Now that it’s Thursday, I think I might have a problem on my hands, and I don’t know how to handle it.

“Can you ask her if she wants to play?”

Trying to take a different approach, I say, “Are you getting bored with your uncle? You have to recruit someone else to play with?”

Her brow forms a V. “No,” she says loudly. “You’re my best friend. I can’t get bored of you.”

Well, Christ. Way to get me in the fucking feels.

“But I like Gabby.”

Well, Mac surely knows how to lift you, only to squash you back down. I’m not sure where Mac is learning all of this. I might need to have another conversation with my sisters.

“Can you ask her to play?”

“I don’t want to really bother her, Mac. She might be doing something.”

Her cute brow knits together again. “Do you not like Gabby?”

Quite the opposite actually. I like her a lot. I like her so much that I’m trying to navigate me wanting her around all the time and you not growing attached to her in case something happens, like . . . me messing up this entire thing.

“No, I like her.”

“It doesn’t seem like you like her.”

“I like her, Mac.”

“Then can you please ask her to come play?” She bats her eyelashes and Christ I’m such a fucking sucker when it comes to this girl.

I’m trying to be tough and set boundaries here, but she is destroying them one eyelash bat at a time.

Grumbling under my breath, I pull my phone from my pocket and say, “Eat your green beans.”

“Only if you text her.”

I lift a brow. “Nice try, but that’s not how this works. Only way she’s going to come over is if you eat your?—”

Mac fists the green beans on her plate and shoves them all in her mouth at the same time. Cheeks puffed, she chews and smiles at me.

For the love of God.

“Do not choke. Gabby won’t come over if you choke.”

Mac just keeps chewing, and that’s when I open my text messages with Gabby and come face to face with her naked body and her pasta.

Fuck . . . I forgot.

Not that I want to, because hell, I’d keep this picture forever, but with my luck, Mac would look over my shoulder and see it, so I delete the picture from the thread and text her.

Ryland: Think you could put clothes on your gorgeous body and come over here to play with my niece? She’s requesting your presence.

I look over at Mac, who’s still chewing and has the rest of her green beans in her hand.

“Why are we not using a fork?” I ask her.

“Godzilla doesn’t use forks,” she says as I get a text back.

“I thought I was Godzilla.”

“You’re . . . uh . . . you’re Godzilla Plus.”

“What’s the difference between Godzilla and Godzilla Plus?” I ask, truly curious.

“Godzilla Plus cries when stabbed.”

My face falls flat. Well, maybe if Godzilla didn’t stab Godzilla Plus in the testicles, Godzilla Plus wouldn’t cry.

I glance down at my phone and read Gabby’s text.

Gabby: She is? That’s cute, but . . . do you want me to come over? I know we’re trying to keep the distance.

Ryland: I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it would be okay.

Mac shoves the rest of her green beans in her mouth, and I just shake my head at her. I don’t think there will ever be any controlling this girl—which I think in the long run will be a good thing. She’s going to need her independence and strength to get through life.

Gabby: Are you sure?

Ryland: Listen, she’s relentless. If I don’t invite you over, I’m sure she’d find a way to sneak out and knock on your door. Come over . . . dressed, preferably in a turtleneck tucked into a pair of very unflattering pants.

Gabby: Coming over I can do. The unflattering pants is not an option, sorry.

Smiling, I set my phone down and say, “Gabby said she can come over and play.”

“Really?” Mac says, mouth still full of green beans.

“Really,” I say.

And then, she tucks her head and starts shoveling food into her mouth.

“Hey, slow down. It will be a few minutes before she’s here. You have time. No choking.”

She smiles at me and chews. And that smile right there? I will do anything to keep that smile around, anything to make this little girl happy, because she’s the most important thing in my life.

As long as I’m making her happy, that’s all that matters, then I’m doing my job, and letting Cassidy’s legacy live on.

“Say goodbye to Gabby,” I say to Mac who’s pouting on the stairs, fresh from her bath that we sped through because Mac wanted Gabby to read her a book before bed.

“Can’t she spend the night?” Mac asks.

I mean, I wouldn’t mind her spending the night, but I know we’re not there yet.

“Where would she sleep?” I ask, not wanting to say no right away.

“With you,” Mac says. “Uncle Wyatt sleeps with Aunt Aubree, and Uncle Hayes sleeps with Aunt Hattie. Adults share beds all the time.”

I pull on my neck and look at Gabby, who squats down to Mac’s eye level and takes her hand in hers. “I had so much fun with you tonight, Mac. You’re so good at playing, and I love the pictures we drew, but I have to go back to my place because I have to get ready for school tomorrow.”

“You go to school?” she asks.

“I teach at your uncle Ryland’s school, and I help him coach the baseball team too.”

“You do?” she asks, eyes bright. “Do you play baseball?”

“I do.”

“Are you good?”

Gabby smirks at me and whispers, “Better than your uncle Ryland.”

Mac gives me a side-eye accompanied with a smirk. “I’m better at baseball than him too.”

“Ooo, I bet you are. Maybe next time we hang out, we can throw a ball around.”

Mac jumps up and down and nods her head. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“Sounds perfect, then.” Gabby cutely holds her hand out and says, “Shake on it.”

They make a deal, and Mac throws her arms around Gabby and gives her a big hug.

I stand there in awe, watching the entire thing unfold like I did when they were playing tonight. Mac’s fascinated with Gabby, almost like the same way she’s infatuated with Wyatt. And Gabby, Jesus, the way she spoke to Mac all night, was able to remain in imaginative play for a couple of hours, never breaking, and following Mac around the house, dressed up and ready to defend the Chewys who sat in the middle of the room, vulnerable to Godzilla Plus. Gabby was so good with her that it cracked a hole in my wall, a big hole, a Gabby-shaped hole.

When Gabby pulls away, she says, “Have a good night, Godzilla. Until our next mission.”

Mac pats Gabby on the shoulder. “Until next time.”

I nod toward the stairs and say, “Get upstairs. I’m going to say bye to Gabby, and you better be in bed when I get to your room.”

She doesn’t move, and when I fake an attempt to get her, she screams and runs up the stairs, only tripping once.

Gabby laughs as I take her hand and move her toward the kitchen. I push her up against the counter and whisper, “Stay here. Let me say good night to her, and then I’ll be back down.”

“Why? Is it your turn to play now?” She wiggles her brows.

“Yeah, it is.” I tilt her chin up and capture her lips, feeling the kiss all the way down to my goddamn toes before pulling away.

I move toward the stairs and say, “Here I come. You better be in bed.”

I hear scrambling come from upstairs, making me laugh as I jog up the stairs and right to her room, where I see her perched under her covers with Chewy Charles on one side and Chewy Chondra on the other.

I take a seat on the side of her bed and push her hair out of her face. “Did you have fun tonight?”

She nods. “I like Gabby.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool, huh?”

“She is, but I like you too, Uncle Ryland.”

“I’m glad to hear it, kiddo.”

She glances to the side, and I can tell that something is on her mind. “What’s going on in your head?”

“I know you said that she’s not coming back, but . . . are you sure Mommy’s never coming back?”

Fuck.

The question that fucking plagues me. She’s only asked it a few times, but every time she does, it feels like a goddamn dagger right to the chest—her hopeful eyes are always dimmed with my answer.

I lean over her and press my hand to her face as I say, “Remember how we talked about Mommy always being with you in your heart?” Mac nods. “Well, she isn’t really gone. She’s just living with you in a different way.” I tap her heart. “Right here.”

“But I don’t see her there.”

“I know, kiddo.” My goddamn heart can’t take this. “But that’s why we have pictures of her, and we talk about her, so she’s still with us in a different way.”

“So . . . she really isn’t coming back?”

“No, MacKenzie. I’m really sorry.”

Her little eyes tear up, and my entire life shatters around me as I scoop her up into my arms, and I hug her, squeezing her tight.

“I’m so sorry, Mac. I know you miss her, and if I could, I’d do anything to bring her back, but I can’t.”

She cries softly onto my chest as I hold her tightly. Squeezing her. Letting her know that her mom might not be around, but I’m here. And I’ll be here for her as long as I can be, until my last breath.

I rub her back softly, feeling her relax into me. I pull away to look to see if she’s sleeping, and when I see that her eyes are shut, I slowly lower her back to her pillow and cover her with her blanket.

I’m about to stand when Mac says, “Uncle Ryland?”

“Yes?” I ask, wondering why she hasn’t been saying Ry Ry.

“Are you . . . are you my dad now?”

Dad.

Am I her dad?

Christ . . . a lump in my throat forms as I attempt to answer this heart-wrenching question as best as I can.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” I say as I take her little hand in mine.

Her lips twist to the side as she thinks about it.

“But I’ll tell you this. It’s you and me, kid. I’m your main man, the one who will always protect you, always love you, always be there for you. I’ll be there for every great thing in your life and every bad thing. And along the way, your aunts and uncles will be there for you too. But this life, this house, it belongs to you and me.” I squeeze her hand. “Best friends, kiddo.”

She nods, the smallest of smiles passing over her lips. “Best friends.”

I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. “Even when you’re Godzilla and I’m Godzilla Plus, always and forever best friends.”

“I love you,” she says softly.

“I love you, too, MacKenzie.”

“You won’t leave me?”

I swallow the lump, trying to hold back the emotions that want to pour out.

“Not intentionally,” I answer because I can’t predict the future. “I’ll do everything in my power to always be with you. You’re my number one girl.”

“You’re my number one guy.”

“Even over Uncle Wyatt?”

She nods. “Yes, you’re . . . you’re like my dad, so of course over Uncle Wyatt.”

And there it is again, that word. A word I didn’t think I’d ever hear directed toward me, yet it’s been raised twice tonight.

Wanting her to feel comfortable with whatever she decides despite it making me feel weird, apprehensive, and maybe a bit uneasy, I say, “Yeah, Mac, I’m like your dad.”

And for the love of God, that smile that passes over her lips brings a goddamn tear to my eye as she loops her arms around my neck and pulls me into another hug.

“Good night,” she whispers. “Dad.”

My lip trembles.

My hand shakes.

And my eyes get misty as I say, “Night, kiddo.”

And then before she can see me with tears in my eyes, I move away from her bed and turn off her light.

“Good night, love you, see you in the morning, sweet dreams.”

“Good night, love you, see you in the morning, sweet dreams,” she says just before I shut the door.

And then I move down the stairs to the living room where I spot Gabby in the kitchen, grabbing us both a drink. When her eyes meet mine, she stops and says, “Is everything okay?”

I shake my head. “No.” And then I crumple to the couch.

She’s at my side in an instant. “What’s going on?”

Tears fall down my face as I lean back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. Gabby’s hand falls to my chest.

“Ryland. Is Mac okay? What’s happening?”

I take a few deep breaths. Then I look Gabby in the eyes and say, “She . . . she asked if I was her dad.”

“Oh God.” Gabby’s hand goes to her mouth in shock. “What . . . what did you say to her?”

“I told her I’d be whatever she wanted me to be. Then she proceeded to hug me and whisper Dad in my ear.”

“Wow.” She now takes my hand and rubs her thumb over my knuckle. “How does that make you feel?”

My eyes fixate on a picture of Cassidy that Gabby hung up for me, the one of her and Mac. The smile on her face is the same smile Mac gave me tonight. It’s uncanny. And as I stare at my sister in that picture, so happy and carefree, I can’t help but feel this weight I’ve been carrying around slowly start to lift off my chest.

Quietly, I answer, “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”