Page 62 of Thornhill Road

I might not have had any children, but I knew they had a tendency to speak their mind, so her compliment felt like an invitation into their world I wouldn’t dare take for granted.

“Thank you, Mary-Kate. I think you’re pretty, too.”

“Hey, what do you say?” asked Mustang, already pocketing his phone once more.

Mary-Kate, obviously familiar with his tone, looked up at him to find he was, indeed, speaking to her. This made her grin before she murmured, “Thank you.” Looking to me again, she repeated, “How come I never met you before?”

“I only met her a few days ago, babe,” Mustang interjected. “Hey, listen to me.”

He waited until he had her attention before he continued.

“I’ve got to work tonight. You’re gonna stay the night with Aunt Winnie and Uncle Roy.”

Her whole body jolted in excitement before she cried, “Yay!”

Mustang chuckled. “Yeah. Figured as much.” Jerking his chin, he instructed, “Finish up. I’m gonna go pack you a bag.” To me he asked, “You okay here?”

“Yeah, of course.”

I watched him walk out of the kitchen and disappear down a hallway between the kitchen and the living room. As I looked in that direction, I took in a few more details. He had a leather sectional couch in front of a big screen television he’d mounted to the wall. Behind the sitting area, to the right of the front door, he had a long narrow table with drawers and a shelf at the bottom. On the shelf were a pair of boots and tennis shoes that obviously belonged to him; and beside them were at least four pairs of little girl shoes in different colors and styles.

It was remarkable to me to be inside of Mustang’s house which was so clearly a home. It lacked a feminine touch—it wasn’t decorated, per say—but it had a certain lived-in comfort.

“Do you know my Aunt Winnie?” asked Mary-Kate, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I do, actually.”

“She’s Otto’s mommy. Otto is my best friend. Whenever I stay with Aunt Winnie and Uncle Roy, we get to play all the time!”

“You know what? I saw Otto today. He was asking about you.”

“You saw Otto? Where?!” she asked, those hazel-blue eyes wide in excitement.

She was adorable in a photograph—but she was radiant sitting in front of me.

“Your dad and I were at the clubhouse,” I told her, speaking through a smile. “He was there with his brothers.”

“Sometimes daddy takes me to the clubhouse, but not all the time,” she said before consuming her last strawberry. “And sometimes I see Uncle Jed there, and he brings Lowe and Ax. They’re my friends, too. But not like Otto. Otto is mybestestfriend.”

I noted how in the last two minutes, I’d learned the badass bikers I knew as Bull and Wrangler were also affectionally known as Uncle Roy and Uncle Jed—and I sort of loved that.

“Well, Otto missed not having you there today. I bet he’ll be so excited to see you.”

Just as I finished speaking, Mustang reappeared. He had a little pink backpack with multi-colored hearts scribbled in a pattern held in one hand, the bag of peas in his other. He went straight for the freezer and discarded the latter before turning to address me.

“Winnie was rounding up her crew. Should be here any minute now. I’ll get MK’s car seat loaded up in their cage, then we’re back on the hog.”

“Okay, babe.”

As if right on cue, a knock sounded at the door.

“Down, daddy! I want to get it,” insisted Mary-Kate.

Mustang helped her off the counter, and she took off the second her feet hit the floor.

“You wait for me before you open that door,” he called out to her.

His words were for his daughter, but he was still looking at me.

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