Page 60 of The Double Play

“Okay,” I whisper.

He kisses me again. It’s sweet, with just enough passion to remind me of our starlit kisses.

“Goodnight, Wildflower,” he breathes against my lips.

I smile. This is much better than a text.

“Goodnight, Emmett.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Emmett Foster

Iwalkoutofmy bedroom to the sound of Disney music and giggling. My lips lift into a smile. I tread quietly through the living room, where the music is playing on the TV. When I reach the kitchen, the sight that greets me is pure joy personified.

June is standing on a step stool near the stove next to Hazel. They’re making pancakes together. Hazel ladles the batter, then June puts a handful of chocolate chips on each circle. As they work, they take turns singing into a spray canister of olive oil. I lean against the pantry door and watch them.

“Miss Hazel,” June says.

Hazel stops singing “We Don’t Talk About Bruno." “Yes, sweet pea?”

“You aren’t going to leave us again, right? Your mommy is okay, so you can stay here forever.”

Hazel doesn’t answer for a moment. My heartbeat quickens as I wait for her answer. “I don’t plan on leaving, but I can’t promise that I’ll be here forever. That’s up to your dad.”

If it’s up to me, forever it is.The thought should be terrifying after everything I’ve gone through, but I’m done letting the pain of the past steal the joy of the present and future. Hazel deserves my confidence in her, in us.

“I’ll make sure to tell Daddy to never let you go,” June says like it’s the perfect plan.

Hazel laughs. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Why not?” June pouts.

“Because I’ve already made my decision,” I say, making them both jump in surprise.

“Daddy! Look, we’re making pancakes with chocolate chips.” June waves her arm over the griddle, almost knocking into Hazel spooning out the batter. Hazel acts quickly though, and avoids the collision.

“I see that. Make sure you watch where you’re putting your hands,” I tell her as I walk over to them.

“Yes, sir.” June goes back to sticking her hand in a bowl of chocolate chips. Each pancake is more chocolate than batter, but Hazel doesn’t correct her on how much she adds.

I kiss the crown of June’s head, then place my hand in the dip of Hazel’s waist and kiss her temple. “Good morning,” I say into her hair.

“Good morning.” Her voice is breathy and stilted.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask, not moving my hand from her waist.

“I did, did you?”

“Yes.” Once I stopped reliving every moment of our time outside.

I reluctantly move away from her to go get a cup of coffee. Raven doesn’t seem to be up and about yet. It’s one thing to sneak a kiss in front of a preoccupied five-year-old. It’s another to be seen by a teenager. I don’t know what or when Hazel wants to tell Raven about us.

Hazel must have already brewed the coffee, because there’s a full pot. I pull down a mug before pouring a generous serving. While I slept well, I didn’t sleep enough. I’ll need some caffeine to make it through practice. I wish I could stay home today, but there’s a game tomorrow night and I don’t have a good enough reason to miss.

“Okay, that’s all the batter we have,” Hazel tells June. “Why don’t you go wash your hands, then we can sit at the table and eat?”

“Yes, ma’am,” June chirps and hops down from the stool. She rushes out of the room, holding her chocolate-covered hands in the air. There’s a sink in here, but there’sprincesssoap in her bathroom, where I’m sure she’s headed.

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