Page 51 of Off the Beaten Path

“I didn’t think you’d be able to reach it.”

Kicking my shoes off, I make my way into the kitchen and easily slide the plastic bucket from the cabinet, peeking inside. Sure enough, it’s full of candy. I pluck one of the pieces out and hand it to her. “Our secret.”

Her smile widens, and she looks incandescent, like a beam of sunshine breaking through the curtains on a lazy Saturday morning. “Thanks, Wren.”

“Now, let me show you what I brought for your hair.”

The plastic bag crinkles as I set it on the counter, opening it to reveal a myriad of curly hair care products that I’ve painstakingly curated over the years through trial and error. There’s shampoo and conditioner, mousse and curl cream, a lightweight gel and a detangling spray, a wide-tooth comb and a specific type of brush that makes brushing through the tangles almost painless. It’s my Holy Grail.

June watches me pull out the products with wide, curious eyes, munching on her mini chocolate bar.

“First things first,” I tell her. “We’re not going to go near your hair with a brush until after you wash it.”

“Really?” June asks, looking surprised.

I have to hold back my cringe. Of course Holden wouldn’t have known that curly hair breaks when dry brushing, but I hate that because of that, June has a phobia of brushing it.

I nod. “You’re going to wash it with this first. Just a little bit in your hand,” I say, pointing to the shampoo, and then demonstrating how much product she should use. “Then you’re going to use this stuff and let it sit in your hair for a little bit while you wash your body. Then you can rinse it out.”

Her forehead crinkles in concentration as she listens to my instructions.

“If you forget one, it’s okay. The important part comes when you get out and I put all this stuff in there,” I say, pointing to the array of products spread out on the counter.

“Okay,” June says, and I motion down the hall.

“How about you go get your pajamas, and I’ll put these in the bathroom for you?”

June leads me down the hall to the bathroom, and I flip on the light switch as she goes to her room for pajamas. This bathroom is all June—shades of lavender and yellow and light green. My heart squeezes in my chest when I see handwritten notes taped to the mirror in what I assume is Holden’s handwriting.

One is curling at the edges, like it’s been here the longest, holding up under the steam of many showers. It says,You are loved, June Bug. Another newer one, taped with pink tape, says,Across the world.

My throat clogs with emotion at the evidence of a man who loves his daughter more than anything else in this world. Although I understood where he was coming from when he said he wasn’t in a place to date before, I can see even more clearly now what he meant. June is everything to him.

June slides to a stop in her socked feet right outside the door, flannel pajamas in hand. “I’m ready,” she says, out of breath, like she was racing to see how quickly she could follow my instructions. It brings a smile to my face.

“This one first,” I say, raising the shampoo again and then the conditioner. “And then this one.”

She nods eagerly, and then that lump is back in my throat when she throws her arms around my thighs, dropping her pajamas in the process. I smooth my hands down the untamed mess of her curls, something sparking and warming in my chest.

“Thanks, Wren,” she says and lets go. “Be out in a minute.”

I step back, leaning against the opposite wall as she closes the door, my heart feeling tender and fragile in my chest, like she’s holding it in the palm of her hand. I think I understand Holden a little better for it. If I feel this raw after one hug from her, I can’t imagine how he must feel just looking at her, a piece of himself out in this big, scary world.

The shower kicks on, and I push off the wall, planning to return to the living room and wait for June to finish, but then an open door at the end of the hallway catches my eye. It’s not the room June went in, so unless it’s the guest room, there’s only one other option, and my curiosity wins out.

Holden’s room is exactly what I would have expected after getting to know him these last few months. Though it’s nothing like what I would have guessed before that. I would have thought it would be cold and impersonal, modern with minimal touches and probably navy sheets.

Instead, it’s warm and inviting, all dark wood and soft, luxurious bedding. His massive bed takes up most of the space, and while there’s a nightstand on one side, a stack of books piled atop it, there’s a chair where the other one should be, a matching deep, leather armchair to the one in the living room, and if that isn’t a sure enough sign that he’s had no intentions of bringing someone into his life and space, I don’t know what is. Maybe that should make me sad, but really, there’s a soft tenderness seeping through me, a thankfulness that he would let me in even just the bit he has.

The shower cuts off, and I startle, unaware of how much time I’ve been standing here, lost in my thoughts. I flip off the light switch and head for the kitchen, waiting for June to finish up. My eyes catch on the bar cart in the corner, and a smile touches my lips as I imagine Holden crafting a cocktail after June goes to sleep, waiting on my nightly messages on the app. I wonder if he ever noticed that they started coming earlier and earlier in the evening, that I would come home early from parties or dinners at my parents’ house so I could snuggle on my couch and send a message to my anonymous friend.

June comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, her hair dripping onto the soft fabric at her back. When her hair is wet, it’s even longer than I could tell before, hanging down to the small of her back.

The excitement has waned from her face, replaced with a wary skepticism.

“I promise I won’t hurt your head,” I tell her when her eyes meet mine.

She sighs, a sound much too old for her six years. “Okay.”

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