Page 28 of Double Fault

“Wow,” she says, eyeing all the products lining my bathroom counter. “You have a lot of hair stuff.”

As she scrambles up next to the sink, legs dangling in front of the cabinets, I laugh and pull on one of my coiled curls. “Curly hair like this needs a lot of care.”

With a finger, I signal for her to turn around. Then I pluck the detangler from the lineup and spritz her hair. When it’s dry,it’s got only a soft wave, but now that it’s wet and uncombed, it’s already beginning to tangle at the bottoms.

I work my fingers carefully through the strands, separating the knots, then start with the comb.

She pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “My mom used to brush my hair after I washed it. I can do it myself, but I miss it.”

Keeping my movements even, I rack my brain for the right response. Finally, I settle on, “I’m glad you trust me enough to do it.”

She gives me a small, sad smile in the mirror. “It’s nice having another girl around again.”

Heart = breaking.

“Maddie…”

“It’s okay.” She closes her eyes, her face serene, as if she’s enjoying the way the comb feels on her scalp. “People don’t know what to say to the kid with a dead mom. What’s your mom like?”

A humorless laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “My mom is… not great.” I leave it at that. It feels wrong to complain about my family dynamics when her mom is gone. “Tell me about your mom instead. What was she like?”

She perks up, her face still flushed from her shower and her eyes bright. “She madethe bestchocolate chip cookies. I miss those.” She sighs wistfully. “She smelled good too. Like strawberries and sunshine. And she sang like a Disney princess. She was the best mom in the whole world.”

“She sounds like it.”

“It was nice, not having to travel for a while.” She picks at a chipped piece of glittery pink nail polish on her thumb. “But he has to work. His job is important to him.”

I cup her shoulders and turn her around, then take her face in my hands. “I haven’t known you or your dad long, but I can tell he loves you very much.”

Face lowered, she sighs. “I know he does. He’s just gone a lot. He’s here, but he’s not.”

My heart breaks for this little girl. She’s so perceptive and wise beyond her years.

The potential job offer sitting in my inbox haunts me. Already, she and I have formed a bond. What will it be like months from now? Could I really leave her?

I shove those thoughts aside, determined to let Future Sabrina deal with them.

“Will you braid my hair?” she asks.

Like I’m going to say no.

Taking my time, I meticulously French braid her hair. I’m not great at it. My mom never had time for me, so she surely had no interest in teaching me how. I was an inconvenience, and she reminded me of that any chance she got. My dad wasn’t any better. I was an accident, and not the happy kind. My whole life, I’ve wondered why they bothered to keep me. I’ve never asked. I can’t imagine I’d like any answer to that question.

Just as I’m looping a hair tie around the bottom of the braid, there’s a knock on the door. Room service has arrived.

Maddie scarfs her dinner down like she hasn’t eaten in a week, while I try to take my time and enjoy it.

“Can we watch a movie?” She perches on her knees across from me, eagerly awaiting my answer like a puppy wagging its tail in anticipation of a treat.

“Sure, what are you thinking?”

“Something good.”

I laugh, covering my mouth, and once I’ve swallowed, say, “I can get behind that.”

Noah hasn’t returned by the time the second movie ends.

Dejection sets into the fall of Maddie’s shoulders. Sadness coats my tongue, tasting like a sour gummy. He hasn’t contactedme to say he’s running behind, so I don’t know what to say to explain his absence.

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