Chapter 16
sixteen
AIDAN
The sun has just risen over the hills when Isla barrels into the kitchen, all energy and pink cheeks. She clutches her stuffed rabbit tight against her chest, determination set into her jaw that makes me brace for whatever she’s about to ask me.
“Can Lucy come hiking with us today?”
The question lands like a punch I didn’t see coming. Right in the ribs.
I rinse out my coffee mug a little harder than necessary, watching the water swirl down the drain instead of looking at my daughter. “Probably not today, kiddo.”
She plants herself in between me and the sink. “She likes outside stuff. She said so.”
I rub a hand over the back of my neck, dragging out the silence. Long enough that she huffs and stomps away toward the door, muttering something about dads being “no fun.”
Christ.
I brace both hands on the counter and let my head hang for a second, breathing through the churn in my chest. It’s not that I don’t want Lucy there. Hell, that’s the fucking problem.
I do.
I want her laughter echoing off the trees, her eyes squinting up at the sun. I want the way she looks at my daughter to be something I don’t have to give up at the end of the day.
None of that changes the fact that wanting things has never gone too well for me. It’s easier to keep our world small. Just me and Isla and the life we’ve patched together out of broken things.
Except now there’s this bright-eyed, messy-haired woman who smells like vanilla and feels like the first deep breath I’ve taken in years.
Before I can fully talk myself out of it, Isla’s already halfway into her boots.
“Where are you going, little storm?” I ask, even though I know damn well what she’s up to.
“To ask Lucy!” she chirps in her singsong voice.
I shake my head, pressing my thumb and forefinger to my eyes like maybe that’ll stave off the brewing headache. “Isla, we can’t just show up—”
She’s already tugging the front door open, cool spring air blasting through the house.
“Isla!” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend. She freezes, one foot already out the door. “Get back here. Now.”
Her bottom lip juts out in that stubborn little pout she gets from her mother. “But Daddy—”
“No buts.” I cross the room in three long strides and shut the door behind me. “You don’t open the door and go off without me. Not safe.”
Her little shoulders slump, the fight draining out of her. “I just want Lucy to come,” she mumbles, voice so small it breaks my heart.
I bend down to her level, trying to gentle my voice. “I know, kiddo. But Lucy might be busy. She has a café to run, remember? And we can’t just show up at her door without warning.”
“It’s Sunday. She said she doesn’t work on Sundays. We could call her,” Isla suggests, perking up again.
“I don’t have her number,” I say, relieved to have a practical reason to shut this down. But Isla’s nothing if not persistent.
“Nana does! She and Lucy talk about flowers and stuff.”
Of course they do.
I scrub a hand over my jaw, feeling the day-old stubble catch against my palm. The smart thing to do would be to dig in. Hold the line. Tell Isla no, tell myself no.
Then I look at Isla with her eyes shining with that wild, innocent hope, and the words die in my throat.
It’s just a hike. Just a couple hours in the woods. Not a forever thing.
And yet, I know better than anyone that Isla doesn’t separate things out like that. She doesn’t draw lines between now and always.
Damn it.
It’s selfish, but right now, with Isla practically vibrating beside me, her small hand tugging at mine and her face lit up, it feels like one of those rare moments when life isn’t taking something away from me.
It’s offering something, and for once…I don’t want to be the guy who walks away from that.
“All right,” I sigh. “I’ll ask Nana for her number. But,” I lift a finger, “no promises. Lucy might have plans today.”
Isla nods vigorously. “She won’t. I know she won’t.”
Her confidence is blinding. The way she believes in people so easily guts me. Sometimes I look at her and wonder how on earth she still sees the world as a place that gives. A place where people stay.
I fish my phone from my pocket, thumbing through the contacts until I find Mum. The phone rings three times before she picks up.
“Aidan? Is everything all right?”
“Fine, Mum,” I say, watching Isla dash up the stairs, presumably to pick out her hiking clothes. “Listen, do you have Lucy’s number? From the café?”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I can practically hear the smile spreading across her face. “Sweet Lucy MacKenzie? Why, yes, I do. We were just talking about flower arrangements for the spring festival last week.” I catch the knowing lilt in her voice, and I silently curse myself.
“It’s nothing like that,” I mutter. “Isla wants to invite her hiking with us today.”
“Oh?” The single syllable carries a weight of questions I’m not ready to answer. “Well, isn’t that lovely. Just a moment, let me find it.”
Papers shuffle on the other end, and then Mum’s back, rattling off a number that I quickly jot down on the back of an old receipt.
“Thanks,” I say, eager to end the conversation before she can start in with the questions I just know are hovering on the tip of her tongue.
“Aidan.” Her voice softens. “It’s good to see you reaching out. Both of you.”
I grunt noncommittally, not sure what to say to that. “Talk to you later, Mum.”
I hang up and stare at the numbers. This feels like crossing some invisible line where I’m about to invite trouble into our carefully balanced world. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that the thought of Lucy’s smile makes my chest ache in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant.
I dial before I can talk myself out of it.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times.
My thumb hovers over the end call button. This was a bad idea. She’s probably still asleep, or busy. I should hang up. I will hang up. Then—
“Hello?”
Her voice. Soft, familiar, a little sleepy, but not annoyed. I freeze for a second, caught off guard by how much relief floods through me.
“Lucy. It’s Aidan.” I pause, swallowing down the sudden sandpaper in my throat. “Did I wake you?”
“Aidan? No, not at all. Is everything okay?”
What is it with everyone assuming something must be wrong?
I clear my throat. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I, uh—”
Jesus. I sound like I’m fifteen again and calling some girl’s landline to ask her to the school dance.
I scratch the back of my neck, eyes fixed on the far side of the room like it’s going to give me a better line. “Isla and I are heading up the ridge trail today. She, uh… She asked if you’d want to come with us.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then another, and that’s when the doubt kicks in. I should’ve just texted. Or probably kept my damn mouth shut and never called in the first place.
“Would that be okay? Do you want me to come?”
Her question lands softly in my ear. I press my thumb to my brow, pacing slowly across the kitchen floor while my brain scrambles for the safest answer. The one that won’t give anything away.
The truth pushes harder than my pride does.
“Aye,” I manage. “I…yeah, I’d like it if you could come.”
A beat. Then her breath catches. “I’d love to.”
Just three words, and suddenly, I’m standing up straighter.
“What time were you thinking?” she asks.
“Can we pick you up in an hour?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll text you my address.”
We hang up, but my pulse is doing something fucking weird, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that, so I shove it deep and walk it off.
At the foot of the stairs, Isla’s already dressed in her purple hiking outfit, beaming up at me.
“Did she say yes?”
I nod once. “She’s in.”
She fist pumps the air, and damn it, I feel the grin tugging at my mouth before I can stop it.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
She said yes, and god help me, I wanted her to.