Page 24 of When Love Takes Root

“Uncle Si-Yuh!”

Both of us turned.

Lyric came flying through the office doors, auburn ponytails bouncing, freckles scattered across her cheeks, smiling like she’d found her favorite place in the world.

Juice set the foil plate down.

“Easy, baby girl.”

I was already crouching. She launched herself into my arms, and I caught her easily.

“Hey, Songbird,” I said against her cheek.

Lyric wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed. “I missed you.”

“You saw him yesterday, Lyric Rochelle.”

Lyric didn’t loosen her hold on me. “That was a long time.”

“It was twenty-four hours,” Juice said.

“That’s long,” Lyric said.

I kissed Lyric’s forehead. “Twenty-four hours can be long when you miss somebody.”

Lyric lifted her head and pointed at me. “See, Daddy?”

Juice placed a hand over his chest. “Betrayal. In my own shop. From my own child. After I bought apple juice.”

Lyric turned toward him with wide eyes. “You got apple juice?”

Juice’s entire face melted. He tried to hold the offended expression, but his daughter had him by the soul, and everybody knew it. “In the office fridge. The little bottles you like.”

Lyric reached for him, and I passed her over without hesitation. Juice took her like she was made of glass and glory, one large hand supporting her back, the other fixing the twist of her shirt where it had bunched near her waist. He kissed one cheek, then the other, then the tip of her nose while she giggled and pushed at his beard.

“Daddy, your face scratchy,” Lyric said.

“That’s wisdom growing out,” Juice said.

“That’s hair,” Lyric replied.

I laughed. “She got you.”

Juice rocked her gently on his hip. “She can. She pays rent in my heart.”

Melody’s voice floated from the office before she appeared. “Lyric Rochelle Brooks, did you run in this shop after I told you to walk?”

Lyric’s head popped up. Juice looked down at her. I looked at Juice.

Lyric whispered, “I walked with excitement.”

Juice stared at her, then turned toward the office. “Mel, she walked with excitement.”

“That’s not a legal defense,” Melody said.

“It’s poetic,” I said.

Melody stepped into the shop with a Mahogany Bookmarks & Brew tote over her shoulder. Warm, brown skin, auburn curls, and the smile that had been humbling Juice for years.