by Harloe Rae
We’re nearing a break in the trees on our way to the creek when I hear faint notes of muffled sobbing. The cry is quiet, as if the person is trying to mute their sorrow. Patch abandons her current hunt and dashes toward the warbling noise. She resembles a destructive moose crashing through the barrier of brush in search of a fresh discovery. Whoever is lingering on the other side gets a decent warning from her. That doesn’t stop me from being hot on her heels, my boots pounding into the earth with a stretching stride. The fate of whoever waits beyond the forest wall pushes me faster.
When I enter the open area, Patch is sitting on her haunches and looking toward an aspen several yards away, where a small, feminine form is huddling at the base of the tree. Either the girl didn’t hear Patch barrel into the clearing, or she chose to remain curled in on herself for protection. Another barely audible sob shakes a pair of bony shoulders. Stick-thin arms are tightly wound around knobby knees, hiding her identity.
“Hey, there.” I announce my presence in the most soothing voice possible. Offering sympathy and comfort isn’t typically on my roster, but kids are kids.
A pair of blonde braids swing outward when the little girl snaps upright to face me. Bottomless green eyes freeze me on the spot—the exact shade that’s been haunting my thoughts for weeks. And the similarities don’t end there. This child is a spitting image of her mother. Damn, that woman is fucking with me even now. But her miniature replica is who I need to focus on at this moment.
There’s no doubt she’s frightened. But how do I approach this kid without causing more terror? If only I had a clue about what might calm her fears. At the very least, it probably helps that I’m not a total stranger to her. If she remembers me. I force myself to release the strain brewing inside of me, blowing out a long stream of pressure while I debate my options.
Patch takes the initiative, jogging up to the girl and licking her face. I sputter out a harsh exhale at my dog’s uncharacteristic behavior. All I can do is gawk as Patch continues lavishing her with slobbery kisses. The kid giggles and reaches out to hug my dog, her fright temporarily forgotten. My breathing stalls, heart racing too fast, while waiting for Patch to react. The oversized malamute just doubles her efforts on giving the girl a mood boost and a good cleaning.
And what am I doing? Staring like a weirdo. I scratch at my jaw while taking a moment to process. How do I handle this rescue mission? It’s a lot more complicated than fixing a flat tire. One thing is certain, though—standing at the perimeter isn’t going to solve anything. She needs help, more than Patch can offer.
I have to try communicating again, but my words are a jumble. What’s her name again? Rather than dig myself into a hole, I search for a way out. “Hey, do you remember me?”
Her gaze flicks to mine before returning to Patch. She gives me a sharp nod. That’s progress.
“Not gonna talk?”
This time I earn a shrug.
I remain a safe distance away, crouching down to her level. “All right, that’s just fine. You don’t have to say a peep.” I almost grin at that. “Not a single peep.”
A groove forms between her brows.
“Have you heard that before?”
She lifts a brow, adding a slow shake of her head.
“It’s a tiny little noise that a baby chick makes. Peep, peep.” I flap my folded elbows for good measure, earning me a grin.
The girl grins at my attempt to put on a good show.
“You like that word?”
She nods.
“All right. So, I’ll call you Peep? It does have a nice ring to it.”
Another bob of her head.
“That’s settled then.” I slap a smile on my face, hoping it doesn’t look too much like a grimace. “Are you hurt?”
A quick shake in the negative.
The ball in my chest deflates ever so slightly. “Should I have someone come get you? Maybe a friendly police officer?” Did those even exist? I wasn’t one to prove that theory.
She visibly recoils, shrinking back against the tree. Her lower lip trembles, and tears glisten in her eyes. Shit. The last thing I want to do is make her cry again.
“Okay, wrong suggestion. Can you tell me your name?”
Her throat moves with a heavy swallow. I’m almost certain she’s not going to answer me. She tucks a long braid behind her ear, blinking up at me. “I’m Amelia, or Millie for short.”
A lightbulb flickers on in my brain. “Millie, of course. My name is Crawford.”
“Ford for short?” Her expectant gaze holds mine.
“Yep, you’re right.” I jut my chin at the guard dog turned teddy bear that’s sprawled in her lap. “And that is Patch.”
Her answering smile is brighter than the mid-morning sun. “My teacher tells me that I have a good memory.”
“I bet you do. Shouldn’t you be in school today?”
She clamps her jaw shut for a moment. “Uh, yeah.”
“So, what’re you doing in the woods?”
Her small fingers stroke through Patch’s fur. The motion appears to soothe them both. My dog is practically asleep on top of Millie. “They took all of us for a walk to enjoy the nice weather.”
That sounds like a regurgitated phrase. “How did you end up alone?”
A dimple dents her freckled cheek. “I followed a bunny this way.”
I’m far too familiar with that. “Did you catch it?”
“Nope.” She doesn’t add more. This girl could battle with me for fewest words spoken.
“Why didn’t you go back to your class?”
Millie wrinkles her nose. “I couldn’t find them.”
“Did you call out for help?”
Her chin quivers and a fresh threat of tears glisten in her eyes. Millie shakes her head.
“Why not?”
“I don’t talk to them.”
If anyone can understand that logic, it’s me. “But you’re speaking to me.”
She squints against the blinding sun. A cloud must’ve parted. “You’re not scary.”
“Well, uh, thanks.” That might be the kindest compliment I’ve received. I cough to cover the pressure in my throat. “So, they didn’t look for you?”
A tiny shrug. “I dunno.”
“Were they saying your name?”
She bobs her head. “I think so.”
“And you didn’t answer?”
“No.” A harsh shake of her head follows.
Right, no talking. “Have you been gone long?”
Millie hums. “I don’t think so.”
And this line of questioning is only causing delay. Keegan will be in a fit of fury if she discovers that her daughter is lost in the woods. Thinking about her fired up and fuming gets my blood pumping faster. But those thoughts are wildly inappropriate, considering the situation. A splash of frigid reality smacks me in the face.
There’s no way Keegan is single. That’s the indisputable fact I keep returning to. The last thing I should be doing is obsessing over a woman who’s probably attached to another. Within moments of meeting her, she threatened to steal the stale air in my lungs. She’s easily the most beautiful knockout I’ve had the pleasure of ogling. Giving her a second thought, and countless more, is the cruelest form of torture. I could never be enough for someone of her caliber. Self-loathing pep talk aside, I can’t seem to help myself.
“Should we call your mom? Or dad?”
Millie’s face scrunches up as if she smells a foul odor. “It’s just my mom. She’s raising me all by herself.” The pride radiating through her voice makes my own chest puff up.
A tight coil I didn’t previously notice loosens from my stomach. I flex my muscles, shoving the misguided relief away. A deeper truth snags my attention for a moment: if only I could’ve been raised by a sole parent. Life would be a very different story. “A mom is all you need.”
“Yep, she’s the best.” She moves to stand, and Patch whines. Millie strokes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not
leaving, Patchy.”
My dog licks her arm. I grunt at her newfound display of affection. “She really likes you.”
“Good, because I love her.” She squeezes her neck before walking toward me. Patch follows close behind, refusing to leave more than a foot between them. Patch is loyal to those she finds worthy.
I dig my phone out and unlock the screen. “Do you have her number memorized?” I’m banking on the faith that she does, because our options are pretty slim otherwise.
“Yep!” Millie snags my cell and starts tapping away without hesitation. Kids and technology these days.
I can barely detect ringing from the other end. But when the call connects, her face lights up.
“Hello?” Keegan’s silky greeting almost makes me shiver. What the fuck?
“Hi, Mama.”
“Millie? What’s wrong?”
She begins chewing on her lower lip. “Uh, well…I got separated from Ms. Ross.”
“Separated? Where are you? What are you doing? Whose phone are you on?” The airy caress of her voice vanishes, replaced by a much higher pitched staccato.
“Don’t worry, Mama. The nice man who fixed our tire found me in the woods. He has a really pretty dog. Her name is Patch.”
And cue the predatory emergency alert. It’s no surprise that a loud screech from Keegan immediately follows Millie’s response. I can’t hear much more than the teetering edge of hysteria slicing into her ranting. I almost plug my ears. A quick glance at Patch tells me I’m not the only one suffering—my dog is backing away from Millie, choosing to investigate an uncharted clump of dirt.
Keegan is still firing out nonsense. Her curt tone is precisely what I envisioned earlier, misplaced fantasy or not. The heat in my veins returns with a vengeance. I’ll be replaying her lyrical tirade for many lonely nights to come. For now, she’s going to require further explanation. Do I step in?
Millie tugs the phone away from her ear, touching the screen until Keegan’s voice is on speaker. “Mama, you’re being too loud. Ford can hear you, too.”
“Well, what do you expect?” A loud huff blows from her end. “How did this happen, Millie?”
She twirls a braid around her finger. “My class was going on a nature hike, and I got lost.”
“Does your teacher know?”
“I think so.” Millie tips her head side to side.
“Is she still looking for you?”
“Maybe?”
“Amelia Marie! She’s probably worried sick. And if she isn’t…well, either way, I’ll be having a few words with her.”
The little girl winces. “Sorry, Mama. There was a cute bunny and I followed its cute cotton tail.”
Keegan’s exhale is rough. “Where are you now?”
Millie rolls her eyes. “I already told you. In the woods with Ford. We’re all alone, except for Patch.”
Because that doesn’t sound creepy as fuck. I swallow a groan. A fierce cramp stabs into my gut. I wouldn’t blame Keegan if she called the cops.
Millie continues, blissfully unaware of my distress. “I like him. It doesn’t scare me to talk to him. Isn’t that cool? And I really like petting Patch. Can we get a dog, Mama?”
“We have bigger issues at the moment, Millie. Let me talk to Crawford.”
“I’m here,” I answer.
“Take me off speaker. Please,” she grinds out.
Millie hands me the phone. “I think you’re in trouble. She’s using her mad voice.”
“Amelia!” Keegan cuts in. “I need to speak with Ford in private.”
She giggles, clapping a hand over her mouth. Her eyes sparkle with humor. “You’re gonna get yelled at,” she whispers through her fingers.
I lift my chin toward Patch. “How about you toss her a stick while I chat with your mom?”
“ ‘Kay!” She bounces off with extra pep in her step.
I clear my throat. “All right, she’s stepped away.”
A loud sniff rattles through the line. “Thank you for finding her. I had no idea she was missing.”
“It’s no problem. I don’t think she’s been gone very long.”
“I would assume not since they didn’t alert me. I’ll let them know once we hang up.”
“Sounds good.” I pause for a beat. “What should I do with Millie?”
“I’m already in the car to come get her. Is there a landmark nearby you can point out? Maybe text me your location?”
“Uh, well, that’s kinda complicated.” I glance around at the thick barricade of trees and foliage. “I wouldn’t know where to start with directions.”
“Okay, no problem. Never mind about that. Is there a spot close that will be easier to find? Just please bring her somewhere safe.”
“We’ll go to my shop.” I rattle off the address for her.
“Perfect. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” She hangs up without fanfare.
I’m still staring down at the blank screen when Millie slams to a halt in front of me. “Is my mom coming to get me?”
“Yeah. We’re meeting her at my garage.”
“Is it far away?”
“Nah, just a five-minute walk.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder.
“That’s super close. My mom will like that. Did she yell at you?”
“No, but she’s definitely not happy.” I let my frown dip lower.
Millie scoffs. The soft sound is meant to be oppositional, but I almost laugh. “My mama is super sweet. She doesn’t stay angry for long. It’s against her nature. That’s what Josey says, at least.”
She’s turning into quite a chatterbox. Maybe I should take that as another compliment. But a grunt escapes me at the thought. I’m the last person anyone should find comforting. “Who’s Josey?”
“My auntie. Well, kinda.”
“Ah, that’s, um…fun.” Family dynamics tend to confuse me on the best days. “We should get going, Millie.”
She pouts at me. “I prefer Peep.”
I’d already forgotten about that. Kids use silly nicknames, right? Aren’t they always calling each other something random? Shit, usually nothing nice. Words have the power to cut deep. But Millie is still beaming. That’s the best sign I’ll receive. “You really like that?”
“Uh-huh, yep.” Her posture straightens, as if she has something to prove.
Now I do laugh. The low notes are gruff, out of practice. Even to my own ears the tune is rusty and disjointed. When was the last time I laughed for the sake of humor? Probably not since I had a conversation of this length. And I’m talking to a child, go fucking figure.
“I think Peep fits because I prefer to be quiet,” Millie adds.
Solid argument, once again. “Well, all right.”
“High-five?” She lifts her palm.
I don’t leave her hanging, slapping our hands together. “You’re a cool kid, Peep.”
“You really think so?”
“Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I?”
She digs the toe of her shoe into the ground. “I dunno. Nobody ever wants to play with me.”
Well, shit. I’m all too aware of how mean kids can be. People in general, for that matter. “Don’t worry about them. I’ll be your friend. Patch, too. Plus, your mommy and Josey.”
“Okay.” I’m no kid expert, but her easy acceptance has me a little worried. I’ll let her mother handle that.
“Come on, Peep. I’ll show you how to replace a spark plug.”
Millie hurries to catch up when I begin walking. “A what?”
Another chuckle rolls out of me. Damn, this kid is easy to be around. “Precisely my point. You’ve got a lot to learn.”
Healing Hug #6: When emotion steals words. But maybe nothing else needs saying.
The traffic light changes to red and I ease off the accelerator. This is the third one in a row. I’m beginning to believe the universe is attempting to delay me on purpose, forcing me to waste precious moments sitting at these intersections. Millie needs me, and I
can’t reach her with all these damn roadblocks. I’m still shaking over the fact that she went missing at all.
When I called Ms. Ross, she was flabbergasted that this sort of thing could have happened. I can’t believe it either, especially that they hadn’t counted her missing yet. Their class is still out on their nature walk, none the wiser. Even after several apologies and promises to never let this happen again, my nerves are fraying to flimsy strands. That level of fear is a very palpable being that I’ve fortunately never experienced until now. A burn flares under my skin, prickling me to move faster. If only Main Street could cooperate.
I check the map again, hoping for a different response. Nope, the directions are still taking me to some address off the grid. Well, that might be extreme. But my destination, Iron Throttle, appears to be in the middle of nothing. It’s safe to assume that’s why Crawford was trekking through the woods. And thank whoever is watching from above that he did. A slow pulse ripples through me while I allow my concentration to center on him.
He’s building quite the exemplary track record as a white knight. It’s some damn good fortune that he’s been nearby during these recent mishaps. This marks a second rescue. I can only hope there isn’t need for a third. Would he be offended if I made him a shirt with Good Samaritan Extraordinaire printed across the front? Perhaps. Not sure Crawford is ready for my level of humor, though he seems to be handling Millie well enough.
My daughter takes a starring role in my thoughts as I make the final left turn and begin crawling up a gravel drive. She seemed unusually calm and serene on the phone, considering her predicament. Maybe the fact that Crawford saved us before made her more comfortable in this situation. Whatever it is, the fact she wasn’t a sobbing mess gives me a slight sense of ease.