Page 17 of Holding Ground

We make small talk for a couple of minutes until I feel someone step up to my left side.

I turn and see Collins. Her long blond hair is limp, and there’re bags under her eyes. Knowing why she appears so worn knots something in my chest. It’s such a departure from who she was eighteen months ago.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I keep my voice light.

She gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I told Nina that I’d pick up Jacob for her. She was pulled into a last-minute appointment with a client at the bank.”

I nod. “Gotcha.”

“How’s Baylor adjusting to kindergarten?”

“She seems to like it so far. I will say, I’m enjoying the easier bedtime. She can barely keep her eyes open at dinner.”

The bell rings before Collins can respond. Then the school door bangs open and the kindergarten class spills out.

“Walk, no running,” Baylor’s teacher calls.

I smile when I see Baylor break into a walk so brisk she’d medal in the Olympic speed-walking finals.

When she reaches me, she wraps her arms around my legs. “Hi, Daddy.”

I ruffle her hair. “Hey, kiddo. How was your day?”

“It was fun. We made stuff with popsicle sticks.” She shrugs off her backpack and hands it to me.

She’s done this every day so far, as though I’m her sherpa. Then she tugs on my hand. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

I know better than to delay. Baylor turns into a bear when she gets hangry, just like her mother always did.

“All right, let’s get out of here. Good to see you, Collins.”

She gives me a soft smile, and I lead Baylor through the parking lot toward the truck.

On the drive home, she rattles on about everything she did all day. By the time we pull into our driveway, I know who got in trouble with the teacher, who threw their sandwich on the ground during lunch because they didn’t like it, who can do two cartwheels in a row on the playground, and who picks their nose and eats it.

The truck stops, and I walk around the front to open the back passenger door and help Baylor down.

“Can I have a snack, Daddy? I’m staaaarving.” She drags out the last word, rolling her head from shoulder to shoulder.

We walk up to the house, and I unlock the front door. “Sure thing. I’ll put something together. You go play in your room until it’s ready, okay?”

I swing the door open, and she runs in past me. “Okay, Daddy.”

Seconds later, she’s out of sight and running down the hall.

I bring her bag into the kitchen and set it on the counter. One thing I’m not enjoying about kindergarten is having to make a lunch for her every night. It’s only day three, and I’m already over it. The idea of doing this on my own for the next…what, seven or eight years, feels daunting.

My mind snags on being the only single father at drop-off and pickup, then I shove it aside. No sense dwelling on it. Even if it is a lot, nothing is going to change. Baylor and I only have each other, and she’ll always be able to rely on me. Always.

After I put together a snack of cheese and crackers for Baylor, I get to work on making her lunch for tomorrow. But when I open her schoolbag, I don’t see her lunchbox.

I’m about to go ask her where it is when I hear two quick raps on the front door, then it opens. From that alone, I know who it is before I hear, “Baylor, your favorite uncle is here!”

Her uncle’s voice brings a thunder of bare feet down the hallway, followed by giggles.

I don’t need to look. I can picture Ansel already swinging her in a circle.

Ansel is two years younger than me, and because we had to share a room growing up, there’s not much we don’t know about each other. For instance, I know he had a pregnancy scare with his high school girlfriend during senior year, and he knows I used to hide my porn under my box spring.