Page 23 of One Touch

“McDonald’s Drive-Thru?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “Uncle Cole says McDonald’s wants to rip the heart out of Bluehaven Beach’s Main Street.”

I chuckled. “Auntie Ida’s diner then?”

“Okay,” Ava sighed.

“I’m going to tell Auntie Ida to put in two big beef patties and a ton of special sauce, like in a Big Mac,” I joked. “I’m in the mood for the kind of food that wants to rip my heart out.”

Ava didn’t laugh at my bad joke. She almost always laughed at my bad jokes.

“Ava, honey,” I said, my voice soft, “I meant what I said. You’re not in trouble. We’re a team, remember? You can talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk,” she mumbled. “I never make sense.”

“You don’t have to make sense,” I assured her. “Just talk. Doesn’t matter if it’s nonsense. Then, I’ll help you make sense of it. That’s my job as your dad.”

She nodded.

“Can you tell me why you felt you needed to throw away your schoolwork?”

“I recycled it,” she corrected, a hint of her usual sass peeking through.

“Right, sorry.”

She took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t be mad.”

“I promise.”

“I . . . I just feel so stupid, Daddy,” she whispered. “Everyone else gets things so fast, and I’m always last. Even when I check my work over and over again, I still make more mistakes than anyone else.”

My heart sank into my stomach. How could I not have noticed my baby girl was struggling like this? Some father I was.

Quickly checking my mirrors, I pulled over on the bluff overlooking the ocean. The evening light bathed the cream interior of my ‘66 Thunderbird in a warm glow. I unstrapped my seatbelt and slid into the back seat next to Ava, gathering her close as she cried into my chest.

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. You’re not on your own, okay? I’m right here with you. And if Miss Brown’s not supporting you enough in class, we can get you some extra help. Plus, you’ll have a different teacher after summer break—”

“I don’t want a new teacher,” Ava said, sobbing harder. “I hate it when things change. When you get to know someone and then you have to say goodbye.”

Oh, shit. Was that what this was about? Fear of losing someone close to her?

“I get it.” I gently cupped her face, brushing away tears with my thumb. “I know how scary it is to think about losing people you care about. But I promise, Ava, I will always be here for you. No matter what happens, I will never, ever leave you. You’re stuck with me, kid. And my terrible jokes.”

That got a giggle out of her, and she hugged me tighter. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything in this world.”

As I held her, my mind wandered to our ongoing childcare struggles. Elara had been working on a rotating schedule of babysitters and family members, jokingly dubbing it the “Avengers of Childcare” initiative. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t the right solution for Ava. What my little girl needed wasconsistency—one dedicated caregiver who’d always be there for her. Someone to provide stability and emotional support.

With a heavy heart, I made the decision to put my firefighting aspirations on hold. Ava’s needs had to come first. I had to be there for her.

I pulled back from our embrace. “Now, are you ready to go and eat your body weight in burgers?”

She giggled again. It was the best sound in the world. “Actually, Dad, I think I’d just like to go home. We could get pizzas and watch Minecraft videos on YouTube.”

I nodded. “I can deal with that. As long as we get peppanpine.”

Ava grinned. “But of course.”

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