Page 28 of Darkest Retribution

“Not right now, no. You need someone to watch you while you ride?”

“Yes please!”

I slide on my shoes and step outside. Thank fuck, the sky has clouded over, which makes the late summer heat more bearable.

As Rosie grabs her bike from the garage, I search the front yard for Jade, but she’s not around. The disappointment that floods me is annoying, and I have to physically shake myself to stop fixating on her.

“Ready, Mister Dominic?” Rosie comes running out of the garage, gripping the bike’s handles.

“Let me get your helmet. And careful running like that. Your foot could get caught on the pedals, and you could fall.”

She huffs in a dramatic way that has me chuckling. Jade’s attitude is wearing off on her.

“There you go,” I say once her helmet is secured. “Remember to watch for cars.”

She frowns up at me. “You’re not going to run beside me?”

“You don’t need me, squirt. You’ve got this. I’ll be right here if you need me, though, I promise.”

For a second, she hesitates, and I almost offer to run next to her for a couple loops. But then she nods. “For Auntie Jade.”

As she starts riding, I settle into the grass. Thankfully, I’ve already changed out of my work clothes and into shorts and a black tank top. Otherwise I’d be sweating buckets by now.

I smile to myself when I hear Rosie singing to herself as she rides. Every once in a while, I glance up and down the road, watching for cars. Rosie has gotten a lot better at looking, but she’s only seven. Kids forget stuff like that sometimes.

After a couple loops, I turn, my gaze landing on the house. Is Jade inside? Is she watching us? What’s she doing? I know it’s stupid, but I wish she was sitting in the grass with me. Over the past year, I’ve come to enjoy her company, even if our interactions are usually brief.

I’m not sure how long Rosie rides for before she gets bored. Not more than a half hour, probably. She comes to a stop in the middle of the driveway, dismounts, and plops down next to me.

“Thanks for watching me, Mister Dominic. Did I do okay?”

“You did great, squirt.” I shoot her a grin.

Flopping onto her back, she lets out a loud groan. “So hot.”

I frown. She’s panting, and her little face is all red. “We should get you some water.” Reaching over, I undo her helmet strap. “Why don’t you put your bike in the garage, and then we’ll get you something to drink.”

She hops to her feet. “Juice?”

“Uh. We’ll see what your aunt says.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re an adult. Why can’t you just say yes?”

“Because I’m not in charge of you. You know that. Now go put your bike away.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. But then she picks up her bike, grabs the handles, and starts running up the driveway.

“Rosie, slow—ah, shit.”

I’m on my feet in a split second, grimacing as Rosie’s foot catches in one of the bike’s pedals. She crashes to the ground with a cry, skidding across the rough pavement.

By the time I reach her, she’s sobbing. I grab the bike and push it off her, assessing the damage. None of her bones look broken or twisted, but her knees and palms are all scraped up.

The words “I told you not to run” are bubbling up my throat, and I almost say them. But then I remember how Blaze reacted whenever I said shit like that to him as a kid. God, he’d get so pissed. I don’t think it’ll help in this situation.

So instead, I pull Rosie into my lap. “Where does it hurt?”

“My knees,” she whines. “And my hands.” She holds them up for me to see. When I take them, brushing tiny pebbles from her torn-up skin, she grimaces.

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