Chapter 2
Cal
"Daddy!" Hannah's voice slices through the afternoon air, bright and full of excitement.
I crouch down as she barrels toward me, her little backpack bouncing with each step.
"Hey, sweet girl," I say, catching her in a hug. "How was your day?"
"Emily's having a birthday party!" Hannah announces. "Can I go, Daddy? I got an invitation. It's in my backpack!"
I smile, smoothing her wild curls. "Of course you can go. We'll find that invitation when we get home, okay?"
She nods enthusiastically, then glances shyly at Elle, who's standing a few steps away, trying not to intrude on this father-daughter moment.
"Who's that, Daddy?" Hannah asks, her curious eyes flicking between me and Elle.
"This is Elle," I say, giving her a small smile. "She's our new neighbor."
Hannah hesitates for a moment, then offers a little wave.
Elle waves back, offering a kind smile in return. "Hi, Hannah. It's nice to meet you."
Hannah's initial shyness disappears as she quickly warms up to Elle, her excitement bubbling over.
"Do you have any kids at home?" Hannah asks Elle, already making plans to befriend said child. "They can come to the party with us, huh, Daddy?"
"No, sweetie," I say with a soft chuckle. "Elle doesn't have any children."
"Oh," Hannah says, her face falling with obvious disappointment.
"All your friends will be at the party," I quickly add. "You're going to have so much fun. Now, let's go so you can have a snack before we get started on your homework."
"Homework?" Elle asks, clearly surprised. "In kindergarten?"
"Hannah’s teacher believes that if you start kids on a homework schedule early, they’ll adjust better when real homework comes along," I explain.
"Okay," Elle nods slowly, her smile showing skepticism. "In kindergarten, though?"
I shrug, trying to suppress a grin. "Honestly, I think it’s more of a way to prepare us as parents for when the real homework starts."
Elle laughs softly. "Ah, so the homework’s not really for her, it's for you."
"Exactly," I say with a smirk. "You’re learning how to juggle long before the real circus begins."
Hannah jumps in with a dramatic sigh, her backpack slung over her shoulder. "Daddy, do we have to do homework now? I want to play!"
"Homework first, then playtime," I say firmly. "We’ll get through it fast, and then you can do whatever you want."
Hannah pouts but then brightens, clearly getting excited about her options. "Okay, but can I wear my princess dress to the party on Saturday?"
I laugh. "The party’s this weekend? We’ve got to go shopping for a birthday gift for Emily."
Elle smiles, watching our back-and-forth. "It's short notice, but it sounds like you two have everything under control."
"Well," I say with a wink, "it's called teamwork."
Hannah gives me a satisfied smile, clearly agreeing with my assessment. "Fine, let’s do homework first."
***
The afternoon is warm, easily in the mid-eighties, but that doesn't stop us from having fun as we walk Elle home.
Hannah skips between us, each of us holding one of her hands.
She shrieks with delight every time we swing her up into the air, her laughter echoing down the road.
I watch them, unsure of who's having more fun—Hannah or Elle.
There's a sparkle in Elle's eyes, a joy that seems to be taking her by surprise, like she's not used to being happy.
When Hannah skips a few steps ahead of us, I turn to Elle.
"You mentioned earlier that you had a sister. You didn't finish telling me about her."
"I do," she says, but the broad smile she wore moments ago vanishes. "I haven't seen her in almost ten years. It's not something I like to talk about."
"I'm sorry," I say, offering a sympathetic look.
"It's okay. It's hard... but maybe one of these days, I'll tell you about her."
"When you're ready," I say. "I'm a pretty good listener."
She nods, her gaze drifting back to Hannah, the smile slowly returning to her lips. It's clear Hannah reminds her of her sister. A memory stitched with both warmth and pain.
"Do you want to meet tomorrow for that six-mile run?" I ask Elle when we reach her door.
"Only if we can start earlier," she says with a playful grin. "It's supposed to be another warm one."
"Hannah catches the bus at seven-fifteen," I say. "Meet you at the bus stop?"
"See you then," she says, her eyes dropping to Hannah one last time. "It was nice meeting you, Hannah."
"It was nice meeting you too," Hannah says brightly, flashing her a big smile.
"Yeah, it was really nice meeting you too," I add, matching Hannah's smile.
"Likewise," Elle says before disappearing inside.
When Hannah and I turn to leave, she looks up at me.
"I like her, Daddy. She seems nice."
"She does," I say.
"Do you like her too, Daddy?"
It’s an innocent question, but not one I’m ready to answer.
Elle is breathtakingly beautiful, but she’s guarded in a way that gives me pause. She's like a safe, carefully locked, holding something precious inside—but the combination isn’t something she gives away easily. And without it, I can't truly know what she’s hiding or who she really is.
There's something there, just out of reach, and it keeps me just as guarded in return.
***
After fixing Hannah some yogurt with sliced grapes and a touch of honey, I glance into the refrigerator to figure out dinner. There's milk, a couple of heads of broccoli, and some cream cheese.
I really need to go grocery shopping.
But for tonight, I decide to make broccoli soup using my mother’s old recipe. The weather’s a little hot for soup, but beggars can’t be choosers. It’s either soup or takeout, and soup wins.
I still have some crusty bread left over from last night’s pepperoni pizza bread, and a few lemons to make a cold pitcher of lemonade.
"Daddy, can Elle come over for dinner?"
Hannah’s question catches me off guard. I’m in the middle of helping her with her alphabet homework, and it surprises me that she’s still thinking about our neighbor.
Truth be told, so am I.
I hesitate, the pencil still in my hand. Inviting her over feels... complicated.
We barely know her.
And yet, part of me—some stubborn, curious part—wants to say yes. Wants to learn what’s behind those guarded eyes and that careful smile.
Maybe Hannah isn’t the only one hoping Elle sticks around.
My phone buzzes suddenly, cutting through my thoughts, and I feel a jolt, like I’ve been caught staring at someone in class.
My thoughts trip over themselves, scrambling for something else to focus on.
I grab the phone, almost relieved to have something to shift my attention back to, even if it’s just a distraction.
But the relief is short-lived when I glance at the screen and see the name flashing: Meg, my ex-wife.
Hannah glances at me when I don’t answer right away, as if picking up on the fact that I’m not eager to talk to whoever’s calling. My hesitation quickly turns to guilt when she notices the screen and sees that it’s her mom.
“It’s Mommy!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she silently urges me to answer.
"Hi, Meg."
"You know I hate it when you call me that," she snaps.
"You used to love it when I called you that, remember," I say smoothly, knowing perfectly well how much it annoys her, both the nickname and the memories.
"That was before you decided to throw your future away to tinker with wood." She knows exactly how to push my buttons, just like I know how to push hers.
Instead of defending myself, I decide to cut to the chase. "What do you want, Meghan?"
"Remember how I said I’d be able to watch Hannah while you went out of town for that wood convention?"
"Yeah," I say, already bracing myself. I know where this is going.
"I can’t do it," she says flatly. There’s a sharp edge to her voice, a hint of sarcasm I know too well. I can practically hear the eye roll. She doesn’t believe in me—never really has.
"I gave you four months' notice, Meghan," I say, doing my best to keep my voice level. "I told you how important this is. It’s not just a convention, it’s a national competition. I’ve already entered a piece. Backing out now isn’t an option."
"You have a huge family," she says. "Ask one of them to watch her for you."
I step away from the table and walk out the back door. "She's your daughter too," I whisper, hoping Hannah can't hear me. "Why do I always have to beg you to see her?"
"Don't try to guilt me into this, Jackson," she says, using my given name. "I can watch her the week after."
"And what am I supposed to do, ask the WCA to move the date of the convention just for me? It doesn't work that way."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," she says, her voice cold, with no hint of concern. "Tell Hannah Banana I love her. Bye!"
I hold the phone in my hand and stare at it, wondering what I ever saw in Meghan. How did she go from a sweet, grounded, kind, loving woman to the person I know now?
Who am I kidding? She was always cold, calculated, and self-centered—but I was too enthralled by her beauty to care.
How shallow does that make me?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and walk back inside, where Hannah is already looking at me with a sense of expectancy in her eyes.
"Is she still on the phone?" she asks, her words laced with disappointment—because she already knows the answer.
"No, baby," I say. "She said to tell you, 'Hannah Banana,' that she loves you, though."
"Oh," she whispers, her gaze dropping to the pencil in her hand.
My heart twists into a knot as she lifts her gaze to mine, trying not to cry. I try every day to love my little girl enough to fill the empty space left by her mother, but no matter how hard I try, I know it’s a void I can never fully fill.
"Do you want to help me chop some broccoli?" I ask, hoping it’ll distract her.
"Can I have some cheese and bacon in my soup?" she asks, her tone brightening.
"You bet!" I exclaim, "But first, let's finish that homework."
***
"Bye, Daddy," Hannah says as she steps onto the school bus.