Page 65 of Smitty

I’m usually home by five-thirty. Unless you’d like to meet

somewhere else?

Brayden:

Your place is fine with me.

I’ll touch base later.

Me:

Okay. Have a safe trip home.

I waited a moment, hoping for another message, but no such luck. The butterflies remained, and that had me feeling guilty in a way I hadn’t expected. I figured it was my subconscious letting me know that I was teetering on the edge and needed to be careful.

I didn’t want to hurt Ryan any more than I already had.

I just wasn’t sure there was a way to hold on to the life I’d built without letting go of the one I’d never truly left behind.

13

SMITTY

I’d lived on the streets. I’d gone days without food or a place to stay and thought I might starve or freeze to death. I’d been in shootouts where I felt actual bullets whip past my damn head, been in brawls with guys two times my size, and even got beaten so badly I almost died.

Those times were all pretty intense, scary even, but the fear I felt then didn’t come close to what I was feeling as I stood on Brooke’s doorstep. I’d been standing there for God knows how long, trying to work up the nerve to knock. It was downright pathetic.

I looked down into the gift bag at the small white stuffed seal I’d bought for Anslee and the sandwiches I’d brought for Brooke, and while they'd seemed like a good idea earlier, now they seemed ridiculous. But it was too late. I was here, and I was doing this.

With sweaty palms, I knocked and immediately heard a commotion inside. This was it. I was about to meet my daughter. I inhaled a deep breath, and before I could second-guess things any further, the door swung open.

Brooke stood in front of me in a pair of black leggings and an oversized band T-shirt that hung low over one shoulder. Her hair was pulled up with strands falling down like she’d been messing with it all day, and she couldn’t have looked more beautiful.

Not because she’d taken the time to get all dolled up.

Because she hadn’t.

She was just beautiful all on her own, just like she always had been. A tired smile swept across her face as she said, “Welcome to the madhouse.”

“Crazy day?”

“Beyond crazy.” She stepped back and motioned for me to come inside. “But we’re pushing through.”

“I brought something that might help.” I offered her the gift bag as I stepped inside. “A little something for you, and something for Anslee.”

“That was sweet of you.” She took the bag and reached inside, pulling out the Ziploc filled with sandwiches. “Are these what I think they are?”

“They are.”

Her expression softened. “These were Aiden’s favorite, weren’t they?”

“They were.” It meant a lot to me that she remembered, but I wasn’t surprised. Brooke was like that. She remembered the small things. “He couldn’t get enough of them… Ate them all the time.”

“He had good taste.”

“I don’t know about that.”

I stood there watching as she pulled one out, unwrapped it, and took a bite. It made me think back to those days out at the lake when I was too poor to take her out and how she never cared. Not once. It was one of the many things I loved about her then and still loved about her now.