Page 36 of Mountain Daddy

I need to run before the devil catches up to me.

10

LILLY

Kids are sweet, they say.

And my kid? He’s the sweetest.

But he makes me grow my patience every day.

I know he's going to fight me on the dinosaur shirt the second I pull it from his drawer.

“No, Mama,” Chleo crosses his arms like a tiny dictator. “I want the dragon one.”

“The dragon shirt is in the wash, baby.” I hold up the T-rex instead. “How about this fierce guy?”

Those stormy green eyes—so familiar they sometimes stop my heart—narrow with five-year-old suspicion. “T-Rex has tiny arms. Dragons breathe fire.”

The tone? Dead serious. The logic? Flawless.

And God help me, he looks just like his father when he’s questioning bullshit.

“T-rex has giant teeth,” I counter. “And he's the king of all dinosaurs.”

Chleo tilts his head, thinking it over.

The resemblance hits hard.

That same calculating stare. The same way of sizing up the world—like he’s not five, like he’s planning a goddamn takeover. Just like his father.

And it guts me every time.

But then he grins. Pure sunshine. All mine and my chest unclenches.

“Okay, but can we roar like dinosaurs at the ducks?”

“Deal.”

I wrestle him into the shirt. Smooth out that dark, unruly hair. And before I can say sunblock, he’s off. Sprinting toward the kitchen. Begging me to hurry. There are ducks to feed.

Five years in Fern Falls, and mornings like this still feel like miracles.

I lay out the cinnamon rolls and fruit.

“Can I have two?” he asks, pointing at the cinnamon rolls.

“One now, one later.”

Too much sugar and he turns into a little monster.

He takes a massive bite, getting frosting on his nose. “The baby ducks are getting bigger.”

“They are. Pretty soon they'll be as big as their mama.”

“Will I be as big as you someday?”

The question hits me sideways. I ruffle his hair, ignore the way my throat tightens. “Bigger. Much bigger.”

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