Page 22 of Reclaimed

“Is my playground done?” She puts her hands on her hips as she surveys the work we’ve done with a squint.

“You’d make a good boss someday, kiddo. We’re almost finished,” Sutton answers.

Silas and I crouch to lift the final beam into place.

“Your daddy has to test it out first,” I announce as Nellie bounces closer. Her purple princess gown twirls around her knees.

“Why can’t I test it out?”

“Because if it breaks, we want it to break on him, not you.” Silas taps her nose as he walks by.

“Daddy’s big butt is going to break it for sure,” she pouts.

Sutton grunts.

I smile.

Silas laughs.

“Nobody’s ass is going to break it,” Sutton grumbles, looking skyward as if he’s sharing a silent prayer with the heavens.

“Damn it,” Nellie shouts.

Silas and I snap our heads in her direction.

“Nell-bell,” Silas chastises. “That’s a bad word.”

“Daddy said he’s too broke for a swear jar, so if he says a bad word I get to say one.” She grins, her pearly white baby teeth sparkling in the sun.

“That’s what you’re teaching her?” Silas replaces his soft expression with a glare for his brother.

“It was Grammy’s idea,” Nellie admits.

I bite back a sudden bark of laughter. Mrs. Stone is an unwavering, unpredictable force, and if she’s Nellie’s current influence, Sutton’s in deep shit.

“Where is Grammy?” Sutton’s tone shifts into one of a doting father. “She’s supposed to be watching you.”

“She’s playing ball with Merit.”

Merit is Sutton’s German shepherd he adopted from the Sanctuary when Nellie was just a toddler.

Sutton stares hard at the house as if he can conjure his mother with sheer willpower. “Of course she is. She still thinks it’s 1992 and kids can come and go as they please and not check in until the streetlights come on.”

Silas fails to disguise his laugh with a cough. “Heli. Copter.” He hacks into his fist.

“If anyone is ever dumb enough to procreate with you, you might understand. Until then, kindly f—effoff.”

I drop my chin to my chest and smile at the grass. This feels strangely normal after the last couple of months of living in my head. I have Isla to thank. If I hadn’t woken up in her presence, primed with those blueberry pancakes, I might not have accepted Sutton’s invitation to come over today.

And I think I have the perfect excuse to have more days just like this one.

8

Isla

My fingers trembleslightly where I grip the black and white photo. It’s still hard to comprehend that this little bean shaped blob is inside of me. I’ve been blessed that at nearly fourteen weeks along, my symptoms have been minimal. A week of nausea and a missed period is what prompted me to first take a test two months ago, but other than some mild fatigue, I’ve felt fine. Normal, even.

I’m sure once my belly begins to show and the baby kicks keep me up at night that this will feel more real. Most days it still feels like it’s all a dream.

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