Page 28 of Forgotten Romance

A pretty rock. A pretty fucking rock.

I bite down my frustration and grab her bag. “Next time, ask for help.”

“S-sorry, Dad.” Her big eyes fill with tears, and I’m obviously not doing a good enough job of hiding my emotions. Which hits me right in the heart.

“No, baby, it’s okay.” I wrap her in my arms, which doesn’t help either of us when they’re all wet too. “Shit, wait. Let’s get changed, and then we’ll hug.”

She giggles. “You said shit.”

Well, fuck. “That doesn’t mean you get to say it.”

The wind is fucking freezing and picking up as I lock us in the car with the heat up. Then I strip her off and pull on some warm clothes. We only brought one pair of gloves, so that was stupid on my part, and it takes a few minutes of cuddling before our hands are warm enough to venture back outside.

Davey and Van are throwing rocks into the water, and I haul Van back.

“Didn’t we just go through this with Kiera?”

“I’m not going to let him slip,” Davey sighs.

“Me throw it. Me throw rocks.” Van struggles in my arms, and when he squirms his way out, he runs back to join Davey again. I watch as he grabs a fistful of dirty gravel and throws it into the water, which flicks up toward him.

“Sure. Teach our son to throw rocks. Wonderful.”

Davey sends me an unimpressed look.

I remind myself to cool it. We can talk about that later. Everything is fine here.

“I’m going to set up our beds,” I say. “Do not let Kiera get wet again. She’s only got one more change of clothes.”

“I got thi—” He turns toward me, and his smile slips off his face. “Umm … where’s the tent?”

“What?” I spin around, and sure enough, the tent has disappeared.

Disappeared.

“It was just there!”

“It’s fine. It can’t have gone far,” he reasons, passing me to go look.

I scramble after him, and we find the tent in a ditch on its side, tangled in a crop of what was bushes before they lost their leaves. One corner has dipped into the river and is taking on water.

“Oh no.”

I shoot forward to grab it, and Davey helps me free the stupid thing that is fucking stupid. The wind keeps trying to pick it up, and the damn tent is acting like a sail.

By the time we get it back to where it was, I’m starting to sweat, and Davey’s curls are a wild mess.

“I think we’re supposed to peg it,” he says.

Of course we fucking are.

We find the pegs, and I have no fucking hammer to set them in, so we go around, one by one, trying to stomp them into the hard earth. My foot hurts, even with my heavy boots on, my undershirt is sticking to my back, Davey’s dark face is flushed with exertion, and today is rapidly swirling away from me.

We need this tent up. Then I can get the bedding, and we’ll read some books and play some games before we get started on the fire. It will be perfect.

Splash!

“Arg! Dadda!”

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