Page 18 of A Crossroads Christmas

“Mama loves cinnamon.”

I inhaled sharply, wondering how the hell Zara would know which tea flavor Cindi loved. “Who told you that?”

“Your Reaper.” When she said it, she pronounced itweep-uh.

I was surprised. No, shocked. I didn’t know when that would have happened since I had no memory of it. “Does he talk to you a lot?”

“Yes, when you’re sleeping.”

Wow.

“He sits with me when I have bad dreams, Daddy.”

My Reaper spent time with Zara. I didn’t know why that seemed so unbelievable since I knew other Reapers did the same for my club brothers’ offspring.

“Are you sad and angry because of him?”

She shook her head.

“Then why?” I asked, genuinely concerned about what could cause such a reaction to my little girl.

“Cause my first mama isn’t here for me to give her a Christmas present.” Her glassy eyes pooled with unshed tears.

Got. The pain that zipped through me. My hand flew to my chest as I exhaled, punched in the stomach and lungs with an invisible force. Gutted. That was how I felt. My heart stuttered as I tried to speak and couldn’t form words.

“Can we put a present under the tree for my Mama Cindi?”

Tears pricked my eyes as I breathed through the pain, knowing I had to watch Zara grow up without her mother. But this? The reminder that she wasn’t here, and at the tender age of three, my daughter already missed her. I cleared my throat. “We’ll do a special present. I promise, Zara.”

“Really?” Her sad smile faded, replaced by a brighter, happier one. Children were so resilient.

“Of course. I’d love to give Cindi a present.”

“You’re the bestest Daddy ever!”

I laughed as she tackled me and hugged her close, thankful for this beautiful blessing in my life and the brief time I had shared with Cindi. I’d always be grateful for the daughter she gave me, and miss her sweet, vibrant spirit. I thought I had to say goodbye to her forever when she died, but I realized that Zara kept the best parts of her alive, and it was okay to let that into our lives.

Skyla often said that Cindi would always be a part of our family. She was right. We didn’t live with her ghost as much as the reminder of her gift, a beautiful daughter to cherish.

“I love you, Zara.”

“Love you, Daddy!”

“Do you want to go to daycare now?”

She slid from her seat, gathering stuffed animals into her arms until they spilled over and landed on the floor.

“Can I help?”

“Yes!”

I helped pack her things and brought her to the nursery, relieved when she rushed off to play with her friends. Her smile showed no trace of anger or sadness, and I relaxed.

Crisis averted.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I stood alone in the bathroom, staring at my reflection. Frustration and anger built inside me as I wondered why my Reaper got involved.

What right did he have to tell my daughter about Cindi? He didn’t love, fuck, or marry her as I had. It was none of his fucking business.

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