Page 87 of Falling For You

"Hold still. Almost."

I wrapped the end and patted her shoulder. She was on her feet and down the hall before I could blink. She looked into the bathroom mirror and gasped.

"I look just like you!" She was beaming so hard her eyes were almost closed. She ran back to the living room and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I held her. My chin rested on the top of her head. She smelled like shampoo and whatever Barb had been cooking. The little cop hat fell off and neither of us picked it up.

The front door opened. Wyatt walked in, keys in hand, and stopped when he saw us. He'd been helping Travis move a couch into his new apartment.

Birdie let go and scrambled off to show him. "Daddy! Mommy Andy did my hair! Look!"

"I see that." He crouched down and studied the braid. "You look amazing, Bird."

She beamed and ran to Barb to show her from every angle.

Wyatt sat down beside me. His hand reached for mine between the couch cushions.

"She's been asking to be you for Halloween for weeks," he said. "I see Barb came through."

"She's going to have a better solve rate than I do."

He smiled. "Birdie's also been asking about the camping trip. She wants to know if we're still going to Red Rock for Thanksgiving."

"Of course we are."

"Good." He squeezed my hand.

From the kitchen, I could hear Birdie's voice: "Barb, do you think real cops eat cookies on the job?"

"I think real cops eat whatever they want."

I leaned into Wyatt's shoulder and closed my eyes.

A year ago, I moved across the street with a bookshelf and a broken heart. I chose this block for the sight lines, the foot traffic, the distance to the precinct. I didn't know that I was going to find my new life twenty feet from my front door.

"Daddy, this one has sparkles!"

Red Rock Canyon in November was cooler than I remembered. The morning air had a bite to it and the sky was wide and clear above the red sandstone.

Birdie was crouched on the trail ahead of us, turning a rock over in both hands. Her collection bag was already bulging at the hip. She held it up to the sun, inspected it, and dropped it in with the rest.

Wyatt looked at me and smiled.

We rounded a bend and I saw it. A mule deer, maybe twenty yards off the trail, standing in the scrub. It lifted its head and looked at us.

"Are you okay?" Wyatt's hand came to my shoulder.

I looked at the deer. Its brown eyes looked back at me, its ears tipped forward.

I waited for the old response. The tightness in my chest, the tilt in the floor, the flash of headlights and my mother's hand reaching across the console. I waited for my body to do what it always did.

It didn't come.

I looked up at Wyatt and nodded.

The deer watched us for another second, then turned and walked into the brush.

We kept hiking. The trail steepened and Birdie scrambled up a boulder that came up to her shoulders. Wyatt boosted her and she disappeared over the top.