Page 22 of Off the Beaten Path

Gladly. “Can do.”

The door to the gym squeals open, and twenty six-year-olds barrel through the gap, followed by one harried looking gym teacher. Every time I leave after working on sets, I pass him sitting on an upturned garbage can behind the school, smoking a cigarette on his break. Maybe I should say something to the administration, but I’d need a smoke break after dealing with that many elementary-aged kids too.

“Daddy!” June yells, and I’m grateful for the intrusion to break up the heavy awkwardness in the air between Charlotte and me.

June runs up to the edge of the stage, looking up at me with wide blue eyes. Her hair is a mess today, even more so than usual. I spent thirty minutes last night trying to coax her into letting me brush out the tangles, but she cried every time we attempted it.

Smiling up at me with that gap-toothed smile, June says, “Hi, Daddy.”

I feel my own smile spread across my face like a flower opening its first petals in spring. People say dogs are always happy to see you, and I don’t doubt it, but there’s nothing like watching the happiness on my daughter’s face and knowing it’s because she gets to see me. I don’t deserve it, and there’s a sharp pang in my chest every time she flashes me those two missing front teeth.

Moving to the edge of the stage, I squat down to be closer to her. “Whatcha doing today, June Bug?”

“Olivia traded her cookies for my blueberries at snack today.” She says this proudly, her pert little nose tipped up in cheeky defiance, and I sigh.

I glance at the clock hanging on the wall above the door, trying to ignore the chaos that has become the gym. “It’s ten o’clock, June.”

She grins broadly. “Good job, Daddy. Those clocks are hard.”

Charlotte smothers a laugh behind me, and I decide to let this one go. “I’m going to be able to pick you up from school today. I don’t have a project this afternoon.”

“Really?” June asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet, a happy pink flushing her cheeks.

I nod. “I’ve got to go check out a project, but it shouldn’t take too long, so I’ll be back to pick you up, ’kay?”

She blows me a kiss, and I pretend to catch it. “See you after school.” Without another look back, she spins on her heel and bounds off in the direction of the group of kids climbing the rock wall without supervision.

“You see the gym teacher anywhere?” I ask Charlotte, scanning the gym for the skinny man with the smoker’s cough.

Charlotte moves beside me, looking around, and blows out a heavy breath through her nose when neither of us can locate him. “I’ll go tell someone in the office.”

I look at her with wide eyes. “And leave me here alone with them?”

She grins at me, walking backward toward the steps that lead down from the stage. “You’ve got it.”

Maybe she’s not as cool with Wren and me as I hoped.

“So this is it?” I ask Wren a couple of hours later. We’re standing outside a well-built but dated cabin high up in the mountains. She wasn’t kidding about the location. It’s perfect. The cabin, not so much, but it’s worth it for the views. I’d love to get my hands on a new build on this lot, with a wide back porch facing the mountains where you could sit outside in the mornings and drink coffee as the haze begins to dissipate on the peaks in the distance. It would be a dream.

Wren nods, shivering next to me in her light jacket. “This is it.”

Even from here, I can hear her teeth chattering. “Why didn’t you wear a warmer coat?” I ask.

She glares up at me, a fire beginning behind her eyes. “I wasn’t planning on standing out in the snow staring at the cabin. I figured we’d be inside.”

“Wejustgot here. How much faster do you think we can go?”

Another shiver racks her frame, and she bounces in place. “Faster than this.”

I sigh and square my shoulders, motioning to the stairs leading up to the porch. “Go on.”

Wren shoots me an annoyed look before bounding up the stairs, her left foot slipping on the ice coating the stairs and making her almost wipe out. I catch her arm and haul her upright without looking in her direction, although I can feel her gaze on the side of my face, her breath on my neck.

The door opens beneath her palm, and I frown at it. “You don’t keep it locked?”

She looks at me over her shoulder, brows pinch together. There are snowflakes melting in her hair, and her cheeks are ruddy red from the cold. “No, this is Fontana Ridge. And barely, at that.”

“Wren, you need to keep your door locked, especially out here in the middle of nowhere.”

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