"I need time to myself. Please, Hunter. Give me your hand."
He saw the determination in her eyes and held out his hand. Bree put Olivia's tiny hand in his. The little girl gave him an unhappy and suspicious look, but she didn't pull away.
"I love you, Livvy. I'll call you soon," Bree promised, then turned and practically ran toward the parking lot.
"Wait, Bree!" he called. "You can’t just?—"
But she was already gone.
"You don't like me, do you?" Olivia asked, drawing his attention as she burst into tears.
He flinched, feeling completely out of his depth. A crying female had always been his kryptonite. He had no idea how to handle all that emotion.
"Is everything all right?" a female voice asked.
He turned to see one of his upstairs neighbors, Emmalyn McGuire, a pretty woman with blonde hair and hazel eyes. She approached him with concern in her gaze.
"I couldn't help overhearing," she continued.
Of course, she couldn't. She was one of his too-friendly neighbors who kept inviting him to things when he just wanted space to be alone.
"Is this your daughter?" Emmalyn asked.
"God, no!"
At his vehement words, Olivia cried louder. He stared down at her in alarm, her sticky little fingers still clinging to his. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. Don't cry," he begged.
"I want my mom," Olivia said through her sobs.
He wanted her mom, too. He awkwardly patted at Olivia's shoulder as his gaze met Emmalyn's once more. "She's my friend's daughter. She just got dropped off. And I—uh—you don't know how to make her stop crying, do you?"
Emmalyn came forward and squatted in front of Olivia. "Hi. I'm Emmalyn. What's your name?"
"Livvy," she mumbled in between sobs. "My mommy says I have to stay with him." She pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. "But he's too grumpy."
"Sometimes people just look grumpy when they're thinking hard," Emmalyn said.
"That's right," he said quickly. "I'm just thinking, Liv."
Olivia gave him a skeptical look, but her sobs slowed down.
"Do you like chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, Livvy?" Emmalyn asked. "I just made some, and they are warm and gooey, just the way I like to eat my cookies. What about you?"
"I like gooey cookies," Livvy said. "Can I have one?"
Emmalyn gave him a questioning look. As far as he was concerned, Livvy could have anything if it would make her stop crying. "Sounds good," he said.
"I live upstairs. If the two of you want to come up, I'm happy to share."
"Do you have milk?" Olivia asked.
"Of course," Emmalyn said. "You can't have cookies without milk."
The last thing he wanted to do was go to Emmalyn's apartment. Actually, that was the second to last thing he wanted to do; the first was taking care of Olivia for however long her mother would be gone.
What he really wanted to do was go back to bed, even if it meant reliving his nightmare. But Olivia had let go of his hand to take Emmalyn's. She already trusted his neighbor more than she trusted him. That stung. But he told himself it was a good thing. Maybe he could get Emmalyn to watch Olivia for a minute while he tried to get Bree on the phone so he could tell her he was not at all equipped to care for a six-year-old child.
"One second," he said. "Let me put some shoes on." He dashed into his bedroom to put on sneakers, wishing he had time for a shower and a change of clothes. But he needed to get Bree on the phone before she got too far away.