Page 61 of Mr. Fixer Upper
Gannon laughed. “I think you already thanked me about a hundred times.”
“Yeah, but that was around everybody, and there were cameras, and I didn’t know if you really heard me.”
Smart kid, Gannon sighed to himself. “Well, I hear you just fine now.”
She took another bite of donut and climbed into his lap. She was still at the age where adults were as much furniture as they were people. “I wanted to say thank you, ‘specially for my bed!”
He riffed the bill of her hat. “You like it?” he asked. He’d wanted to get it just right for her.
“It is seriously awesome,” she said, nodding fiercely. “The most coolest bed ever!”
“What do you think of the rest of the house?” he asked.
“It’s so different.” Her brown eyes widened. “Mama cried when she saw the kitchen. But she said it was a good cry this time.”
“You two deserve it,” Gannon assured her. “You’ve done a lot of good for a lot of people.”
“Mama says if we raise enough money, some day little kids won’t get sick anymore.”
Gannon felt his throat tighten. “Yeah. That will be a good day.”
“I made you somethin’,” she said, sliding off of his lap and shrugging out of the little backpack. “When we were in Washington, D.C., I worked on this.”
She handed over a rolled up piece of paper tied with a pink ribbon. He unrolled it and felt his throat get tighter still. She’d drawn him, or what he assumed was him, flying above a crayon-sketched mansion with smiling stick figures representing Malia and her mother on the purple front lawn.
“What’s that?” he asked pointing.
“That’s your cape. ‘Cause you’re a super hero, and you saved our house,” Malia danced in place.
In painstaking capital letters, she’d written “HERO” across the top. She pointed to it. “See that? H-E-R-O. That’s for hero because you’re mine.”
Well, shit. His vision blurred, and he couldn’t do anything to dislodge the lump in his throat.
“You’re mine, kid,” he said, his voice gruff and strained.
“I haven’t even done anything yet. I’m just six,” she said frowning. “You saved our whole entire house.”
“You’re a hero by example,” he explained. She shrugged.
“Are you happy crying?” she asked, touching his arm, her eyes warm with concern.
He nodded and gave her another hug.
“Thank you for my house, Gannon.”
“You’re welcome, pipsqueak.”
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Paige’s throat tightened, and she pressed her fingers to her lips. She’d come looking for Gannon for a couple of quick photos and found him sharing a sweet moment with Malia inside the craft service tent.
“You want me to…” Tony hefted his camera and jerked his chin in Gannon’s direction. Paige shook her head.
“Nah. Why don’t you go get one last pan of the master now that it’s cleared out,” she said quietly.
“You got it, boss,” Tony winked and wandered off.
Paige felt the prickle on her skin and knew Gannon was watching her. Busted. She turned in the doorway of the tent and met his warm gaze.
