Chapter 9
Dani
It was supposed to be an easy night.
For once, I’d actually finished work before ten. My inbox was empty, and I poured a glass of wine, determined not to think about case law or unpaid overtime. Candlelight flickered on the counter, while my indie playlist hummed, and rain muted the city beyond my window.
I was halfway through a mindless reality TV show when my phone buzzed across the coffee table.
Incoming FaceTime: Harper’s iPad.
I blinked.
It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Harper to call me; she’d FaceTimed me twice this week since adding my contact to her iPad: once to show off her glittery shoes for dance class, and again to introduce me to her goldfish.
But this was later than usual, and the second I saw her name light up, a slight twinge of worry threaded through the peace.
I swiped to answer, expecting her usual burst of energy.
Instead, the screen jostled with frantic, trembling movement, blurred shapes darting past, intensifying the muffled sounds of raw, messy crying—until Harper’s little face, streaked deep red and glistening wet with tears, suddenly filled the view.
“Hi, Ms. Dani.”
My stomach dropped. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
She sniffled hard, clutching the iPad with both hands so close that her curls half-covered the camera. “Daddy’s leaving.”
“What?”
Her voice cracked. “He said he has to go to work again. For two whole weeks.” She said, stumbling over her words.
I was trying to keep up with what she was saying, but I was also very confused.
I sat up straighter, every protective instinct I didn’t even know I had lighting up at once. “Oh, honey,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”
Her lip trembled. “He said he didn’t want to, but he has to. I don’t want him to go.”
I could hear the wobble in her voice, that heartbreaking mix of confusion and betrayal only kids her age could feel so deeply. “Where’s your dad right now?”
“He’s in his room.” Her hand fumbled with the phone, giving me a dizzying tour of her room. A unicorn lamp, a pink comforter covered with pillows and stuffed animals, and a dozen Barbies littered all over the rug. “He told me to go to bed, but I didn’t want to. I just wanted to call you.”
“Oh, Harper…” I softened my voice, feeling completely out of my depth but unwilling to hang up. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay to be upset.”
“I hate when he leaves,” she said, her tears coming faster now. “He used to go all the time. I cried every night, even with Miss Jade.”
I paused, unsure of who she was. Maybe a former girlfriend of Logan’s, an idea I quickly tried to put out of my head.
“She’s gone now,” Harper whispered, rubbing at her eyes. “She moved to see her grand babies. Daddy doesn’t have anybody else to watch me.”
I hesitated, unsure how much of this was a six-year-old’s emotions taking over and how much was fact. “Did he say that?”
She nodded, sniffling. “He said he’s trying to figure it out. But I don’t want anybody else. I want him.”
My throat tightened. I could picture it — Logan in the kitchen, trying to hold it together, probably already guilty for something that wasn’t his fault.
He’d never shared much about his life before Cami introduced us.
I knew he’d served in the Marine Corps with Hunter; it was clear in the precision of his movements, the discipline still present in his gestures.
I knew Harper’s mom had died, though the details were still unspoken.
I knew he worked in security, usually remotely. That was it.
And now his daughter, this bright, sassy, glitter-obsessed little girl , was sobbing into my phone because the man who clearly revolved his world around her had no choice but to leave her again.
“Hey,” I said gently, shifting on the couch. “You know what? I bet your dad’s trying really hard to fix this.”
“I know,” she said between hiccups. “But what if he can’t?”
The question hung heavy in the air.
I wished I had an answer. I wish I could say something to comfort her. Instead, I swallowed the ache settling within me and gave her the only truth I could offer.
“Then we’ll figure it out,” I said softly. “Together, okay?”
She sniffled again. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
She nodded, but her face still crumpled. Then, after a moment, she looked up at me with those big, watery brown eyes. The exact same eyes that had made me cave when she asked me to sneak her a third cupcake at the wedding.
“Can you stay with me?”
The words hit me like a punch and a pull at the same time.
“Me?” I asked, assuming I had misheard.
“Yeah.” She swiped her sleeve across her nose. “You said you’re good at helping people, right? And you already know how to fix my hair. And Daddy likes you.”
I froze. “Oh, Harper…”
“You could sleep in Miss Jade’s old room!” she continued, her voice suddenly hopeful. “Daddy didn’t sell the bed yet. And I’d be good! I promise. You wouldn’t have to do anything! Just be here because Daddy says I have too many years left before I can be alone.”
I closed my eyes for a second, pressing a hand over my heart because it actually ached.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I said gently. “That’s not really something I can decide without talking to your dad.”
“But he’d say yes,” she said quickly, desperate. “Please, Ms. Dani? I don’t want to stay with anyone else. Please,” She dragged out the last plea, a giddiness now tainting her tone.
I drew a slow breath, balancing compassion with boundaries. I wasn’t family, or a babysitter. I was barely more than her dad’s friend, though “friend” didn’t quite capture the strange, growing warmth between us.
But imagining Harper curled up crying into her pillow, alone in that bright, toy-scattered room, made my stomach twist into worried, protective knots.
Still, I couldn’t promise anything. “Tell you what, kiddo,” I said softly. “How about I talk to your dad tomorrow, okay? We’ll see what he thinks.”
She hesitated, eyes flickering with doubt. “You won’t forget?”
“Never,” I said. “You’re unforgettable. Plus, we gotta turn that frown upside down.”
That got a faint smile out of her. She hiccuped, wiping her cheeks. “You sound like Daddy. He says that when I get sad.”
I smiled. “He sounds like a nice daddy.”
“Sometimes.”
I laughed. “Go get some sleep, you little rebel.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly, sliding off her bed. “You promise you’ll call tomorrow?”
“Promise.”
She gave the camera a little wave, and the call ended with a click that left my apartment feeling too still again.
I sat there, staring at my reflection in the black screen, processing the whirlwind that had just hit me.
A six-year-old had just asked me to be her live-in nanny for three weeks.
I set the phone down and leaned back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
He’d told Harper that work wasn’t always predictable. That sometimes grown-ups had to do things they didn’t want to.
And now, apparently, he was being asked to leave again, something I knew would tear both of them apart.
I rubbed at my temples.
Could I really stay with her? Even temporarily?
Surely, there were countless considerations—work schedules, logistics, and permissions.
Technically, my schedule was lighter this month.
A few court hearings had been postponed, and I’d taken on fewer clients after the summer caseload nearly burned me out.
Perhaps I could negotiate work-from-home days to manage both duties effectively.
I’d been telling myself I’d use the downtime to rest, maybe even read something that didn’t involve legal precedent.
But the truth was, rest never came easily for me. Cami had called me out on it just last week at her house. You’re functional, not fine, she’d said. You don’t know how to stop moving. And coming from her, that said a lot.
And maybe she was right. Even now, when I should have been relaxing, my mind raced through logistics instead of letting me breathe.
Harper needed someone. Logan didn’t have family nearby. I had the time, but it wasn’t that simple.
He might not want me there. From the time I’d spent with Logan, it was clear he liked structure and the monotony of strict routines. That was not me. Plus, I didn’t want to overstep. It would be easy to blur lines, to mistake kindness for closeness, proximity for something deeper.
I exhaled, letting my head fall back against the couch. I was overthinking all of it. That was what I did best.
So, I picked up my phone, and I hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to say. “I just talked to Harper” felt too forward. “She’s heartbroken” felt too heavy.
Finally, I typed,
Me: Hey. I just got a call from a certain
someone with bright green eyes
and a big heart. You okay?
There was no immediate reply, but it was late.
He was probably still with her, sitting by her bed in the dark, the way parents do when guilt outweighs exhaustion, waiting for her breathing to even out before allowing himself to move.
I let the phone drop to my lap and stared out the window, the rain having stopped just long enough to leave the streetlights smeared and hazy against the glass.
Everything felt calmer than it should, as if the world had softened while something in me stayed raw.
I couldn’t shake the image of Harper’s face—tear-streaked, small, looking at me like I was something solid she could cling to.
Daddy likes you, she’d said, her voice soft but sure, as if it meant more than I was prepared to grasp.
I didn’t know what she intended. Maybe it was simple.
Maybe I was just safe, familiar, someone who showed up.
But the way it settled in my chest told me I couldn’t dismiss it so easily.
Because I’d seen it too.
The way Logan’s voice gentled when he spoke to her, even while trying to stay firm.
The way his hands moved carefully when he tied her shoe at brunch, letting her mock his awful bow without breaking his practiced patience in his expression.
There was something unwavering about him, something forged in the kind of loss that rebuilds a person but doesn’t hollow them.
And Harper… she was the thread of that love that remained untouched. The piece that endured.
I drew a slow breath and rubbed my tired face.
What was I doing?
Even considering stepping into their world, even briefly, felt irresponsible. Unprofessional.
Emotions I had trained myself for years to suppress surged. And yet, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that stayed with me after she’d asked, Can you stay with me?
It surprised me that, despite my hesitation, a part of me had wanted to say yes.
Not because I believed I could fix anything.
I knew better than that. But because something in me recognized what she really wanted—not solutions, not answers, just someone present. Just someone willing to stay with her.
And maybe, just maybe, I understood that more than I wanted to admit.
The stove clock read 12:03 before I finally noticed how long I’d sat there. I sat there in my living room feeling the decision settle before I could talk myself out of it.
Tomorrow, I’d call Logan.
I’d ask how serious things were. Offer carefully, without overstepping.
Not because I owed him anything.
But because the look in that little girls eyes as she asked me to promise completely undid me, and I didn’t have the heart to let her down.