Page 20 of Wrong Number, Right Single Dad
“There’s only one thing left to do,” I say.
“Block him on your phone and app so you aren’t tempted to reach out to him in a moment of weakness?”
I give her a half-hearted smile. “That, and write a new break-up song.”
EIGHT
JARED
It’s been three days since Delaney left.
The house feels too quiet. Too still. Hannah’s been filling the space with music—singing little snippets of songs, humming while she colors. Normally, I’d think it’s cute.
But it only reminds me of Delaney. Of her laugh. Her voice. The way she looked at Hannah like she was something precious.
It’s funny how fast a woman who was never supposed to be in my life became such a big part of it.
I’ve been off. I know I have.
I’ve been distracted. Short-tempered. Last night, I even snapped at a rookie and told him to “lay off” when he asked me what was up.
Tonight, I burn dinner.
I curse under my breath and slam the pan into the sink. The noise echoes, louder than I meant.
Hannah flinches.
“Sorry,” I wince, because I never want my daughter to recoil from me. “Dad’s a little off today. We’ll figure something else out.”
She sets down the crayon in her hand and watches me for a long moment.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks quietly.
My heart cracks clean down the middle.
“No,” I kneel beside her chair. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad. I’m… sad, I think.”
Her little brow furrows. “Is it because Delaney’s gone?”
I close my eyes.
“Yeah,” I whisper. Because while I might try to fake a gold fish’s lifespan, I’d never outright lie to her.
She climbs into my lap, looping her arms around my neck. “I miss her too.”
I tighten my hold on her. “I know. I know you do.”
Which tells me everything I need to know. It’s too late for Hannah and I to get out of this without broken hearts.
Because every day that goes by, they break a little more.
After a frozen pizza for dinner and Hannah’s bedtime, I try calling Delaney.
It goes straight to voicemail.
