Page 48 of Doxed

As we wait for the information on the next auction, I figured Briar and I could have some fun. My fist pounds on the door—I don't like knocking, but I know it’ll go a long way with Briar—and I wait in the hallway.

Briar swings the door open, her wet hair hanging in strands over her shoulder as she squeezes it with a towel. Her bare face is clear and glowing and she’s wearing a faded sweatshirt with matching sweat shorts.

“I bought us a new game. Come on,” I say, backing toward the stairs as I watch her.

She rolls her eyes, stepping out of her room.

“You’re such a child.” She tosses the towel at my face, but I catch it before it can make contact and sling it over the stair railing.

I'll take it up to my floor to wash after we’re done.

Her hair swishes as she bounces down the stairs and once she hits the first floor, she looks around at the objects on the floor. “Okay, what game?”

I hand her the small console and watch her expression as she studies the screen.

“These cameras turn the entire house into a racetrack. I set up obstacles too to make it more challenging.” I try to hide my proud smile as I hand her the car that will drive around the house—it matches the virtual car on the screen—and I realize how dumb it is to be proud of setting up a game for us to play. But I am.

Briar laughs as the lights flash green and she takes off into the kitchen.

I follow close behind, watching over her shoulder as she swerves to dodge pasta and cereal boxes.

She rounds the corner of the island. I knock off dried pasta and she screams as they pelt her little car that’s driving on the concrete floors.

I steer her body around the barstools as she drives under them, and then she’s sprinting toward the hallway.

She drives through an old print tube that I taped to the floor to make a tunnel and then she speeds up as her car climbs the makeshift ramp and she drives across a long box I set up in the hallway.

Her little car flies off the other end and she skids to a stop at the finish line that is the doorway to the gym.

Her eyes are bright as she turns around, her smile reaching from ear to ear.

“That was so much fun!” Her delicate fingers hold the console in a firm grasp and chest fills with pride.

I made this for her. For us to have some fun.

And it was. I loved listening to her constant giggle as she raced through the house and found the makeshift obstacles.

“We can go again,” I offer.

She shakes her head. “No. I want to make the track this time. Wait at the top of the stairs, so it’s a surprise.”

I feel like my heart could take flight. It’s so light right now. “Okay.” I smile without restraint, backing away. Is this what happiness feels like?