Page 6 of Enticing

I understand needing to be a responsible adult... but seriously.

Every day? Like every single day?

That seems a bit excessive.

—Addie’s Secret Thoughts

“I’m so sorry I was late, Izzy.” I rush out of the arena, feeling like a complete and utter failure as I squeeze my daughter’s small hand in mine.

“It’s okay, Mom.” She squeezes back. “Where’s Lennox?”

This kid is a rockstar.

She always goes with the flow.

No five-year-old should be so adept at dealing with shit.

Yup. I’m a failure, and she’s a feral little rockstar.

“Mrs. Murkey is watching her for me, so I could get in a few hours of work.” I open the backdoor of my SUV and put Izzy’sminty-green bag she’s dubbed her hockey bag on the floor as she climbs into her car seat. “Did you have fun?”

“Uh-huh.” Her head bobs up and down, and dark hair falls out of her braids. “I fell a couple of times, but I was better than most of the other girls.” She beams as she buckles her car seat buckle. “Leo told me I did real good.”

“Really good,” I correct her and ignore the little zing that annoys the hell out of me at the mention of the man who probably thinks I’m the world’s worst mother. “Leo, huh? Was he one of the coaches?”

Okay, so yes. I’m doing a little digging. But it’s my responsibility to ask questions.

I mean... I need to know who my girl will be spending her afternoons with.

It has nothing to do with the zing.

The zing was a fluke. It had to be.

I don’t do zings. Not in a really,reallylong time.

Zings and I have had words. Not nice words.

Unkind words.

Words I try hard not to use in front of my daughters.

Zings are no-good little scoundrels.

“Yeah.” She smiles wide. “They put us into groups, and Leo was my group’s coach. He’s a real hockey player. How cool is that?”

I slide into the front seat of my old Honda Pilot and look back at her through the rearview mirror. “That’s pretty cool. Did you make any new friends?”

Trying to steer a conversation is hit-or-miss with Izzy.

My kid is too smart for her own good.

I push the button to start the car while my sassy little girl chews on that. Only instead of starting, the engine makes a horrible grinding sound and immediately stops and shuts down.

What. The. Hell?

I try again, and nothing happens. The engine doesn’t turn on, or turn over, or whatever the hell it’s supposed to do. There’s no grinding or whining or whimpering. At least not coming from the car. Coming from me is a different story.

I suck in a deep breath while Izzy continues telling me about her lesson and try to regulate my breathing when all I really want to do is cry.

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