Chapter Seven: How Old Are You?

Trick

Pretend she's not there? I'd have to be blind to even attempt it. She ogled my dick like she was a starving woman in a desert earlier but she made no move toward me, and I appreciate the restraint. I still feel the same pull she had on me yesterday, but I've promised myself this is about the hours I need to serve and the child I'm going to help. That doesn't mean I don't notice what a beautiful woman she is and I can ignore the obvious interest that sparks when she thinks I'm not looking.

I pull out the chair for Riley to have seat. She climbs on, sitting up on her knees so she can easily see over the edge of the table.

"Which page do you want to color?" I grab the box of crayons. They're small in my big hands, and it reminds me I need to be careful with this little girl. People like me can easily break others if we aren't mindful.

"You do this one," she tears out a page, putting in front of me. "I'll do this one."

She pulls her lip in between her teeth and looks back at her mom, who's not paying us any attention. I like that; even though Hadley's there, she's letting me have time with her daughter.

"Do you think we should ask Mom?"

"Nah," I shake my head. More than likely Hadley doesn't get much time to do what she wants by herself and she truly looks as if she's comfortable. "We can do this ourselves."

She nods and sets forth coloring her page. I want to ask questions but I don't want to make either of them uncomfortable, so I start with the basics.

"Do you go to school?" I find myself shading the hair of a pony, much like I'd shade the pin striping on a bike. What the fuck is wrong with this picture? How did a guy like me, who works with his hands and seen some of the shittiest sides of life end up here? Coloring a picture with a six-year-old?

"Yeah, I'm in the first grade," she holds her tongue in between her teeth as she colors. "How old are you?" she asks.

So this is how it's going to be? Question for a question. I like that she's inquisitive and she's not willing to just let me take and keep the lead.

"Twenty-nine," I answer, wrinkling my nose. "I'm old."

"That's how old mom is, that means she's old, too."

From where she's sitting, I hear Hadley. "Hey, age is only as old as you feel."

"Well then I feel much older than my years."

We're quiet for a few minutes before Riley speaks again. "My dad's older than you and Mom."

"Is that right? How old is he, Sprite?"

There's an edge to her voice, like she's trying to tell me something important, but I'm not sure what it is.

"He's forty-two," she says with such clarity it strikes me as odd. "He went through a mid-life crisis at forty and he didn't want us anymore."

I stop coloring, because I'm sure she's heard her mom talking about this to others. I don't blame Hadley because it sounds like the guy is a dick, but my heart breaks for the way Riley's face has changed. I reach over and lightly grasp her chin. She pulls away from me, but I don't take it to heart. She's not trusting, and I'm okay with that.

"Hey, that's his loss. If he hadn't been so stupid, I wouldn't be sitting here spending one of the coolest days of my life coloring with you. Now would I?"

The words seem to put her at ease, and five minutes later, we're coloring again like we have no cares in the world. I, however, have a ton of questions about the man who broke this little girl's heart.