Page 29 of The Perfect Snipe

Rosa purses her lips, her bangle bracelets catching the light as she waves dismissively. “I’m fine. Don’t I look great?”

I face her fully, curiosity getting the better of me. “You two looked like you were fighting earlier.”

Rosa sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes and her head. “Ay, my granddaughter hired a health aide. She acts as if I can’t take care of myself anymore. I don’t know why she’s intent on making me live with someone. I like my peace.”

And to that, I have no reply. Because the truth is, I used to like my peace too. Until a whirlwind of curls and sass and intelligence invaded my home, my thoughts, and as much as I hate to admit it . . . has started working her way into my heart.

Chapter 12

Cat

The rhythmic thuds of fists meeting punching bags and the clang of weights dropping echo around Blitz. Nora's voice rises above the cacophony, her encouragement piercing through the pulsing music that makes my teeth rattle.

“Come on, Stella! You've got this!”

I lean against the wall, my muscles still burning from the workout, sweat trickling down my back. My shirt clings to me like a second skin, and I'm pretty sure I smell like a locker room that's been marinating in the sun for a week. But none of that matters as I watch Stella execute a perfect burpee.

Her face is flushed, strands of brown hair escaping her ponytail and sticking to her forehead. But her eyes . . . God, her eyes sparkle with a determination. As she pops up from the floor, a grin spreads across her face, bright enough to light up the entire gym. It's like watching a flower bloom in fast-forward.

When Nora offered us a chance to train, I hesitated. The thought of subjecting myself to voluntary torture wasn't exactlyappealing. But before I could even finish asking Stella if she wanted to come, she had launched herself at me, arms wrapping around my waist in a fierce hug.

Leo's at practice today, but I'm sure he won't mind—as long as we make it to dance class tonight. At least, that's what I keep telling myself as I watch Stella power through another set of exercises. The mantra “Leo won't kill me, Leo won't kill me” plays on repeat in my head.

Nora high-fives Stella, passing her a water bottle. “Great job, kiddo! Did you have fun?”

Stella bounces on her toes, her energy seemingly inexhaustible. If someone told me she was secretly powered by nuclear fusion, I wouldn't be surprised. “So much fun! Can we do it again tomorrow?”

I chuckle, shaking my head in amazement. After an hour of CrossFit that’s left me feeling like a wrung-out dishrag, this kid is still raring to go. Then again, Stella's always been intense—it's part of her charm. And maybe a little bit terrifying.

“Easy there, Energizer Bunny,” I say, ruffling her hair. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We've still got dance class today, remember?”

Stella's face falls for a split second before she plasters on a smile. “Right. Dance. Yay.”

I raise an eyebrow at her sudden lack of enthusiasm but decide not to push it. We've got bigger fish to fry, like getting to dance class on time without smelling like we just ran a marathon through a dumpster. I'm pretty sure the parents would have a collective aneurysm if we showed up like this.

As we head out, I can't help but compare Stella's beaming face now to the blank expression I usually see at her dance recitals. No wonder. Those leotards look about as comfortable as a full-body wedgie. I shudder at the memory of my own brief stint inballet. Never again. I'd rather wrestle an alligator while covered in BBQ sauce.

After quickly washing up in the locker room, we make our way to my Audi and climb in. Luckily, there’s not much traffic, so I make an executive decision and pull into the drive-thru of Stella's favorite fast food joint. “This is our little secret, okay? If your dad asks, we had, I don't know, kale smoothies or something equally disgusting.”

Stella giggles, her eyes lighting up as she scans the menu like it's a treasure map. “Can I get a Powerade slushy and pickled fries?”

I hesitate for a moment. Leo’s all about his kids eating healthy. Even during the time I’ve been there he’s never ordered fast food. And the only reason I know she likes this place is because Nora took her here once. “Yeah. You earned it. Just don't tell your dad I'm corrupting you with junk food, deal?”

“Deal!”

We barely make it to dance class on time, Stella still slurping on her drink as we rush in. I settle into a hard plastic chair along the wall, offering polite smiles to the other parents but avoiding small talk. Some of them mime the dance moves from their seats, nodding approvingly when their child nails a step. It's all I can do not to roll my eyes. Seriously, who are they performing for?

On the wooden floor, Stella's movements are precise but robotic. The joy that radiated from her at CrossFit is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a mechanical efficiency that's almost painful to watch. There’s also the way her eyes keep darting to the clock on the wall as if willing it to move faster.

When she trudges over after class, slumping down beside me like a deflated balloon, I know something's wrong. The vibrant, energetic girl from this morning has been replaced by a wilted version of herself.

I pull out the remaining pickled fries from my bag, offering it to her. “You're doing great out there, kiddo. Want a snack?”

Stella takes one, but doesn’t eat it. Instead, she twirls it around in her hand, her feet dangling off the chair, swinging back and forth in a restless rhythm.

“Hey.” I nudge her gently, keeping my voice low so the other parents can't eavesdrop. They’re so damn nosy. “Everything okay?”

She shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah.”

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