His voice thinned.
“I hadn’t seen my daughter smile in almost a week.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
Just for a second.
The hug came back to her.
Small arms.
Greasy fingers.
A child clinging hard enough to be felt long after.
“When you handed her the food,” Ethan said, “she looked happy before she even opened the box. Happy because someone was kind to her.”
His jaw worked.
“I was afraid if I rushed over, I’d scare her and she’d bolt. So I waited. Just a few seconds. Then she looked up, saw me, and froze.”
Lauren opened her eyes.
“What happened?”
He gave a breath that was almost a laugh.
“She shouted ‘Daddy’ so loud everybody turned.”
Something hot pricked behind Lauren’s eyes.
“She dropped the chicken,” he said softly. “Ran straight into me. Hit me so hard I staggered back into a table. Then she started sobbing. Not cute crying. The kind where the body gives out before the tears do.”
