Page 43 of Scrape the Barrel
I stared at the piece of paper, the paint still wet, and swallowed back the lump in my throat. She’d painted herself standing on the grass next to a horse, with Callan and his cowboy hat to the left of her. Next to them was a field of flowers, and a big castle that was half filled in with pink.
“That’s Boots,” she told me, pointing to the horse, “and that’s Callan and me.”
Callan stood up with the wet paint brushes in hand. “I’m going to go rinse these.”
I stepped to the side to allow him room to leave, his arm brushing against mine as he passed. His skin was so warm, like a walking heater, and I could imagine curling up next to him in the winter while snow fell outside, our Christmas tree twinkling in the living room as Pudding swatted at the ornaments.
I shook my head at myself.Stop fantasizing, Sage. It’s one time. This doesn’t mean anything.
“It’s beautiful,” I told Avery.
“He helped with a bunch of it, but the flowers are all mine.”
I set the paper on her dresser, then bent to press a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you clean up your paint while I make you some dinner?”
“Okay!” She bounced away, getting to work on tidying the paint supplies.
I headed out to the kitchen where Callan had his back to me at the sink as he ran the brushes under the faucet.
“I can clean those. You probably want to get going,” I said to him as I opened the fridge.
“I don’t mind. I had fun.”
Grabbing some chicken breasts out of the fridge, I set them on the island behind me and closed the door. “I really appreciate you watching her for a few hours, and all that you’re doing to get Pudding to come home.”
He turned off the water, setting the brushes on a paper towel to dry. He dried his hands on the rag hanging from the oven door. “Anytime. I’ll get out of your hair for dinner. I’ll still be seeing you two in a few days for her next lesson, right?”
Anytime? Did he mean that? Surely he was just being nice.
“Avery wouldn’t let me forget if I tried. We’ll be there.” I pulled a cutting board out of one of the cabinets, setting it on the counter. “And thank you for the texts. It helped ease my mind…a lot.”
His brow furrowed. “Of course. I figured if she was my kid, I’d want updates, too.”
God, why did we have to have that in common?
Shut up, Sage, every parent would.
“Is that why you don’t have a babysitter for her?” he asked.
I opened the package of chicken, placing them on the cutting board to slice. “That, and the fact that not many people are up for watching a five-year-old, especially with my constantly changing schedule if I have to stay overtime.”
“Your coworkers not very reliable?”
“Just one of them.” I didn’t want to get into it about Gemma right now.
He seemed deep in thought as he watched my knife slice through the raw meat, then said, “My mom or I can always help watch Avery.”
My slices faltered, and I set the knife down on the board. The last thing I needed was to accidentally cut myself in front of him,again. “You don’t have to—”
“Sage, it’s okay to accept help if people are offering it. But I understand if you truly don’t want us to.”
My teeth gnawed on the inside of my cheek. I hated that he was right. I just felt bad asking people to help watch my daughter. Her father should be around doing that, but instead he was sitting in a prison cell because he was never taught how to respect women.
“Thank you.” I had to be more open to people offering to make my life even a fraction easier.
As much as I wished I could, I couldn’t carry the weight of the world on my shoulders and keep myself afloat, too.
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