Page 5 of The Last One You Loved
I headed down the hall, feet stalling as I passed Mila’s door. She’d expect me to crawl into bed with her, and I didn’t want to do that smelling like whiskey, so I continued on to the one room I hadn’t let Mama or my sisters help decorate. Instead, the main bedroom reflected me like almost no other part of the house. It was full of dark woods, navy linens, and black-and-white photographs of the lake and the ranch.
I locked my weapon away in the gun safe, showered in the bathroom filled with teak woods and blue linens, and then changed into sweats and a long-sleeve T-shirt before padding on bare feet back to Mila’s room. I turned the knob as quietly as possible in a vain hope that she might actually be asleep but chuckled to myself when I saw her dart her head under the covers.
Her room looked like a rainbow had thrown up in it. She was obsessed with them. She’d even convinced me to paint her white headboard in rainbow stripes. Between that, her four pastel-colored nightlights, and the pile of stuffed unicorns that filled an armchair in the corner, it felt like walking into a cartoon world. I crossed the faux-fur white rug and stood looking down at the rainbow comforter that shed glitter like it was a cat changing seasons.
“Oh good, Mila is asleep. I don’t have to readThe Day the Unicorns Saved the Worldfor the one-thousandth time,” I said softly.
The covers were thrown back, and beautiful wheat-colored eyes stared at me under thick brows that were almost black and contrasted with the honey-blonde hair spiraling in waves around her round face. “I’m not sleeping, Daddy! Youhaveto read it, or I’ll be up all night.”
There was a little whine to her sweet voice and a pout to her lips that made my mouth twitch. I sighed dramatically, looked up at the ceiling, and pretended to contemplate the fate of my life before pulling the book from her nightstand.
“Scootch over,” I said as if this wasn’t our nightly routine.
She pulled back her covers and moved to the side as I slid in with her. Her tiny, five-year-old body curled up against me, and I put one arm around her, holding her tight. She smelled like the berry shampoo Mama had bought for her birthday, and she had on a pair of fuzzy, pink-striped pajamas that had been from my sister. Her body was warm and her tiny hand soft as she placed it on my arm. My heart filled to near bursting just by having her there.
“How was your day?” I asked.
“I learned that the letter L saysllllllike in lion, and that five and two more is seven. Seven is my birthday number, so Mrs. Randall let me use the butterfly pointer and lead the class in the alphabet song.”
Kindergarten. My baby had started kindergarten at the end of August. I hadn’t expected it to be as hard as it had been to drop her off at school and walk away. I mean, I’d been leaving her every day for the four years of her life that she’d been mine. But there was something different about leaving her with Rianne versus taking her into a classroom full of kids who I couldn’t guarantee would be nice and adults who were strangers. I’d run the name of the principal and every teacher at the school to make sure there weren’t any scumbags hiding in the system, even when I knew the state wouldn’t have given certificates to criminals. I’d sort of gone off my rocker for a day or two. The only thing that made it easier was knowing Mila liked being there.
“That sounds like a really good day,” I told her.
“Yeah. But Missy wouldn’t give me a turn with the hula hoop.” She pouted, and every vein in my body tightened. The need to protect her, even from other five-year-olds, was a strange sensation. There was a time in my life when I hadn’t wanted to be a dad, when I’d promised another blonde-haired girl that we wouldn’t have kids because she was adamantly opposed to having them.
“I’ll buy you your own damn hula hoop tomorrow,” I told her, voice gruff with emotions. She giggled.
“You cussed again, Daddy. You owe me another dollar for the cuss jar.”
I smiled with my lips against her hair. She’d have enough money in that jar to go to college if I wasn’t careful. The thought of her being grown up and going away to college threatened to rip some more at the scars that had already cracked open today.
I pushed the pain away, opened the book, and started reading as my girl snuggled deeper into my chest. My heart expanded until it was quadruple the size it should have been. This was perfect. I didn’t need anything else in my life but this.
CHAPTERTHREE
MCKENNA
BETTER THAN WE FOUND IT
“When time turns this moment to dust,
I just hope that I’m proud of the woman I was.”
Performed by Luke Bryan
Written by Dillon / Robbins / Veltz / Morris
My eyes wereblurry from another twelve-hour shift as I headed toward the doctors’ lounge with nothing but my bed and sleep in mind. As I came around the corner, I almost ran into a lanky, red-haired teen. I put out a hand to stop us from colliding, and it hit his chest. He groaned, almost doubling over on himself, and my eyes grew wide. I’d barely touched him, definitely not enough to cause pure agony.
My heart pounded viciously as I recognized Dr. Gregory’s son. Concern swept away my tiredness, and I asked, “Layton, what’s wrong?”
He pulled back, wrapping an arm around his middle and trying to straighten to his full height, which easily met my five-foot-ten. Layton leaned against the wall for a moment, breathing heavily.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” he said, grunting through the pain.
“You’re not fine. At all. Shall I call your father?” I whipped out my phone, and his eyes grew rounder until they took over his whole face with sheer panic.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t call him,” he hissed.
