Sitting down beside her, he looped an arm around her shoulders. “I pinkie swear.”
That drew a smile out of his suddenly too-serious little girl. To seven-year-old Lolly, a pinkie swear was the ultimate proof that you were telling the truth. “Can we make cookies to have with the hot chocolate?”
“We sure can.”
“Yay,” she cheered as they locked pinkies and shook on it.
“All right, it’s time now for you to get some sleep.”
“Can you read me a story first?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her not tonight. It was late and she had school tomorrow, she needed her sleep, but there was no way he could turn down an opportunity to spend a few more minutes with his little girl. Mouse had asked Lolly if she wanted to sleep in his bed tonight, but his daughter had told him she’d be okay in her own room.
“I can read you one chapter,” he offered.
“Deal, Daddy,” Lolly quickly agreed.
They were currently reading The Babysitters Club, his sister’s favorite as a child. When Lolly had found them in a box in his parents’ attic she’d become obsessed. They were onto the tenth book, and even though Lolly was a great reader for her age, she still loved to have him sit beside her on her bed and read to her each night when he was there to tuck her in.
Far too soon they reached the end of the chapter, and it was time to kiss her goodnight and leave. Normally he looked forward to a little downtime after he tucked his daughter in for the night. Between his job and being a single dad, his life rarely allowed time for him to just chill out, not that he was complaining. Mouse loved his life, but he wasn’t getting any younger, and he was starting to wonder if perhaps he wanted more.
Tonight though he didn’t want time on his own, he wanted to hold his daughter and never let her go. While she might have bounced back quickly after her forty-three-minute ordeal he hadn’t. The fear of not knowing where his daughter was or what was happening to her would forever be imprinted on his mind.
But his daughter needed him to be strong. If she knew how afraid he had been—still was—then it would set off her own anxiety. She might be growing far too quickly, but she was still only barely seven years old, and she still took a lot of her cues from him.
“All right, sweetie, that’s it, time to go to sleep,” he said, trying to sound upbeat when all he wanted to do was gather up his daughter and keep her glued to his side for the rest of her life.
“Night, Daddy,” Lolly said on a yawn as she snuggled down under the covers.
“You sure you’re going to be okay in here tonight?” he asked as he set the book on the nightstand and stood.
“Yes.”
“Want me to put the nightlight on?” Around Christmas, Lolly had started to insist that she was too old for the Minnie Mouse nightlight. Unable to go cold turkey, some nights she still asked for it to go on and he thought tonight might definitely be one of those nights she needed it.
“No, I’m fine, Daddy. Can you get Mr. Whiskers and Mrs. Fuzzy?” she asked, gesturing to the toybox that was filled to overflowing with dozens of stuffed animals. Lolly usually slept with her favorite teddy bear and a ragdoll that Emily had made while she was pregnant, but sometimes she liked to pile her bed high with pretty much every one of her stuffed animals.
“Here we go, bumblebee.” Mouse retrieved the two cats and set them beside Lolly, who immediately took Mrs. Fuzzy and pulled it under the blankets with her, holding it close.
“Mrs. Fuzzy makes me think of Phoebe. They’re both pretty,” Lolly said.
With the cat’s golden fur and blue eyes, he could see how Lolly saw Phoebe Lynch in the toy. It was clear his daughter had been thinking of the woman who had without a doubt saved her life. He had been too. Hadn’t been able to forget how she’d selflessly put herself in danger to save his daughter. How he’d hurt her when he’d knocked her down and how there had been genuine fear in her eyes.
The woman was strong and beautiful, yet there was a vulnerability in her that called out to the protector in him.
Of all the women he’d met since Emily’s death, Phoebe was the only one to spark any interest inside him. Had he finally reached a point where he was ready to start dating again? How would Lolly feel about him bringing another woman into their little family? Would Phoebe even be interested in him given the fact he’d tackled her and slammed her into the ground then had her handcuffed the first time they’d met?
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetie, Mrs. Fuzzy is pretty just like Phoebe,” he agreed.
“I like Phoebe,” Lolly said on a yawn. His daughter had been full of questions about the woman who saved her, and when she’d learned Phoebe was Hope’s cousin, she’d been extra excited. To Lolly, everyone at Prey was an uncle or an aunt, they were her family, and between them, his parents, his sister and her husband and kids, she had lots of people who loved her.
Didn’t stop him from wishing she had a mother.
Emily would always be Lolly’s mom, the woman who gave her life, who loved her from the second they knew about the pregnancy. But Emily would also be the first one to tell him to move on, give Lolly a mom who could be there for her, who would love her like her own.
Could that woman be Phoebe?
“I like her too,” he admitted. “Sweet dreams, sweetie. If you need me you just call out, okay?”
“‘Kay, Daddy.” Lolly’s eyes closed, and her breathing evened out as she drifted off.
Mouse stooped to kiss the top of his daughter’s head, then crept out of the room, leaving the door cracked and the hallway light on. Lolly liked Phoebe, he liked Phoebe, when he’d called Hope earlier to let her know what happened and that Phoebe might need a shoulder to cry on, he’d also asked for her number, her home address, and her work address.
If he called, she might not even answer since his number would show up as an unknown caller. Maybe after he took Lolly to school in the morning he’d go and see Phoebe. He did want to check on her and make sure she was okay. She’d had a traumatic experience today as well, but it was so much more than that.
Something deep in his gut told him that Phoebe was special and he shouldn’t let her go.
* * * * *
February 15th
8:48 A.M.
Someone was watching her.
Phoebe had that feeling again.
Why wouldn’t it go away?
No matter how many times she looked she could never see anyone who appeared to be paying any sort of attention to her, yet the feeling persisted. She was starting to think that she was losing her mind.
Her ex was managing to torture her even though they were on opposite sides of the country. Just because he’d threatened that he would never let her go didn’t mean he intended to follow through. Maybe he’d already moved on.
One could only hope.
Sipping her coffee, she stood outside the cute little bakery across the street from the building where she worked and did her best to scan the street without looking like she was doing so. Everyone appeared to be going about their business, no one was looking at her, no one seemed to care about her at all.
Was she really losing her mind?
Phoebe felt exhausted, completely wiped out. Eighteen months of dating a man who took pleasure in her pain, everything that happened yesterday, and no sleep last night. It felt like the life she’d built was quickly slipping through her fingers. She didn’t even know who she was anymore, but she knew the woman she’d been for her whole life had disappeared and she didn’t know if she could ever find her again.