Page 42 of How to Prevent a Fumble

“Yeah? Where’s your mom now?”

“She’s in her room.”

I nod, heading down that way before knocking on her door.

“Come in!” she yells. When I push the door open, I find her folding laundry, the puppy munching on something on the floor.

“You want to come get ice cream with me?”

She looks around at the mess around her before sitting on the bed, one leg tucked under her, her knee pokingthrough the large hole in her jeans. Her hair is pinned up in a bun.

Pulling her jacket closed over her cropped tank-top, she meets my eyes. “Elara already had cookies, and I’m not totally sure I want her out around people with cameras.”

She doesn’t have to say the other half out loud. She doesn’t want her outwith me. And it makes sense. I respect it.

“She could take a page out of your brother’s book and wear a disguise?”

“I mean they’ll know she’s a kid either way and be written about, Leo.”

“I’ll support anything you decide,” I tell her simply with a nod. “Just wanted to extend the offer.”

Chewing on her lip, she takes one last look at Champ before sighing. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Elara skips a little ahead of us, my baseball cap riding extremely low on her head, preventing anyone from seeing her face unless they really get down onto the ground to look.

She wears a large shirt and jeans, while her mom also wears a hat, hiding her face as best she can.

Although people are usually okay around me, I did wear a hat too. I don’t go as extreme as Owen, but I don’t like to be bombarded with people the entire time I’m out. A few photos here and there are okay.

We walk around the inner harbor, Champ leading the way, until we reach my favorite ice cream shop.

“I’ll wait out here, if you take Elara in and order for us,” Briar says, holding up the leash. I wonder for a second why we didn’t just leave her at home, but when I look down at her and find her eyes on mine, wide and warm, reminding me alittle of Briar’s, I realize that that would have been cruel. Go for a walk without our dog? Terrible.

Our?

Knock it off, Warner. Get your shit together.

I nod, heading inside with Elara in tow. “Oh, I forgot to ask your mom what kind she wants,” I sigh, turning to go back outside, but Elara catches my hand.

“She likes mint!” she smiles. “It’s her favorite.”

“Oh is it?” I ask. Interesting. I would never have guessed she was a mint person.

Actually, didn’t she say peppermint mocha was her favorite coffee creamer? I should have known.

Because I love mint too.

Elara nods. “You should get her mint.”

Pursing my lips, I look over the ice cream flavors before deciding I’m also getting mint. “What do you want, Bub?”

Elara looks up at me, a confused look on her face. “Bub?”

And I realize I fucked up. Am I allowed to call her that? Does anyone else call her that other than her mom?

“I’m sorry, I know your mo?—”

“It’s fine,” she grins, an almost evil look in her eye. Okay…