Page 30 of Inside Silence

It earns me another eye roll, but she does grab her iPad and pulls up the browser. A moment later she narrows her eyes at me.

“Fine. Pineapple.”

“That’s a fruit, not a vegetable,” I point out, enjoying the exchange.

Sure, it’s more contentious than a nice chat, but it’s interactive communication and I will take it in a heartbeat over the moody, often loaded, silences the past few months seemed filled with.

“Fruit is good for you,” she fires back, her mouth twisting in a little smirk.

My girl is enjoying the banter too. Fuck if that doesn’t make my heart swell in my chest.

“The deal was a vegetable,” I persist, sending her a full smile before I walk over to the fridge and pull open the produce drawer. “Your choices are: red pepper, broccoli, cabbage, tomatoes, or spinach.”

She follows me into the kitchen and as I list the options, her face goes through several grades of horrified expressions. I can’t hold back a burst of laughter. She grins back, clearly hamming it up for effect.

“Drama queen.”

“Dictator,” she returns, her eyes twinkling.

I hook my arm around her neck and playfully pull her against my chest, rubbing the knuckles of my other hand on the top of her head. As she tries to pull away, I quickly press a kiss to her crown.

“What’ll it be, kiddo?”

“Spinach,” she finally concedes. “But can you cut it up really small?”

I pull out the bag of spinach and fish a knife out of the drawer.

“You cut it up small. Weren’t we supposed to make this pizza together?”

The stuffed crust she wanted is a little more involved than anticipated, so it takes us a good hour before the pizza is ready for the oven, but neither of us minds. It’s an hour of us working side by side, listening to music—mostly Taylor Swift, but I’m not complaining—and casually talking about her classes, the town’s upcoming Harvest Fest she really wants to go to, and the local track and field club she wants to join.

All those things have one thing in common—Carson Alexander. Even though my daughter probably has a little crush on the kid, he’s also the only friend she seems to have. His dad is a good guy and Carson has been nothing but polite with me, which is why I’ve let her hang out with him. That boy probably understands better than anyone what my girl is going through, both of them losing their mothers so young.

I can’t deny it seems to have done her good, having someone her own age—or close enough—to talk to. She appears more approachable, hasn’t been hiding out in her room quite that often in recent days, and seems more engaged.

When I come back down after a quick shower, I’m surprised to see Tate has set the table. When we eat together it’s usually at the kitchen island, or in front of the TV. The only time we’ve used the table was that time I bumped into Savvy at the grocery store and invited her over for steak.

“Looks nice.”

She sneaks a glance at me and shrugs her shoulders, looking a tad embarrassed.

“Yeah, well, I figure we’d put so much effort into making this epic pizza, we should have a proper sit-down meal.”

“Agreed.”

The pizza is pretty tasty and I’m about to grab my third slice when the doorbell rings.

“Were you expecting someone?” I ask Tate as I get to my feet.

She shakes her head. “No.”

When I open the door it’s a bit of a shock to find Auden Maynard on my front step. He’s in uniform and, judging from the expression on his face, not here for a neighborly visit. I don’t even know if he still lives in this neighborhood.

“Hey.”

“Thought I recognized you the other day,” he says by way of introduction. “Nathan Gaines, back in Silence.”

I don’t like the vibe I’m getting from him. His feet are slightly apart and both thumbs are hooked into his belt as he looks me dead in the eye. I can’t figure out what would’ve brought him to my door, so I’m playing it cool. Let him be the one to tell me.