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When he brings me home, he insists on walking me inside and then tells me he has to wash his hands before heading back out to meet Lisa because she thinks he smells like motorcycle grease and meat. I’ve actually always liked the faint smell of motorcycle grease because it’s such a part of him, but I suppose most women may not feel the same way. I watch his truck back out of our long driveway before I engage the security system and retreat to my room. As I’m running water for a bath, my cell phone rings.

“Hi, Dad,” I answer. “I was getting ready to take a bath. Tor just dropped me off.”

“I know, he called me. I wanted to say goodnight and tell you I love you.”

I smile into the phone. “I love you, too.”

“You okay? I could call Rayne for you and have her stay the night.”

“Dad, no. Why does everyone think I need a babysitter? I’m almost eighteen.”

“You’ll always be a little girl to me, Kenzi. I can’t help it.”

“I know…”

“I worry about you. That’s what fathers do.”

“I get it. And it’s sweet. I’m going to just chill and read for a while and probably go to bed early. So, what’s going on in Boston?”

“Just meeting with a friend who opened a club out here. We’re going to have dinner and talk about setting up some shows. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay, I’ll be here. Have a good night, Daddy.”

“You too, Sunshine.”

I sit in the bathtub until the water turns cold, and then I let my dwarf rabbit, Snuggles, out of her cage to hop around my room while I sit on the floor with her and read. She’s twelve years old, so she doesn’t hop around as much as she used to in her younger days, but sometimes she’ll get a spurt of energy and bounce around. She mostly just likes to sit on my fuzzy throw rug and stretch out like a little dog. Tor bought her for me when I was only five years old, and taught me how to clean her cage, make her fresh salads, and hold her without spooking her. My parents didn’t think it was a great idea to bring her with us when I travelled with them, so Tor would bunny-sit for me and I would call him every night and make him let me “talk” to the bunny on the phone. And in typical Tor fashion, he would do it and even tell me what she was “saying” back.

The memory brings a smile to my lips, and speak of the devil, my cell phone buzzes next to me and there’s a text from him.

Uncle Tor: I just wanted to check on you.

Me: I’m great. Just invited five guys over for an orgy.

Uncle Tor: Not funny.

Me: I’m okay, just hanging out with Snuggles :-)

Uncle Tor: Ah. Give her a little kiss for me.

Me: LOL I will. Are you still on your date?

Uncle Tor: Yes. Playing pool.

Me: Did she approve of your soft, clean hands? ;-)

Uncle Tor: Barely. She’s mad about me ripping my knuckles on that guy’s face.

Me: Geez. Isn’t she turned on by you beating up bad guys? That’s how it works in all of Gram’s books.

Uncle Tor: Apparently not.

Me: Sucks to be you ;-)

Uncle Tor: Thanks. Ok. I’m going now.

Me: LOL goodnight.

Uncle Tor: night Angel.

6

Tor

Kenzi ~ age seven

Toren ~ age twenty-two

I let go of her hand for one second to pay the guy in the ice cream truck, and when I turn around she’s gone. I stare around wildly, trying to find her in the crowded park. She was right next to me a second ago.

“Kenzi!”

My heart pounds faster and my chest tightens when she doesn’t come to me. She’s nowhere. She’s gone.

I run to the other side of the truck, but she’s not there.

“Kenzi!!” The wind whips my hair into my face and when I shake it back, there she is, standing innocently right in front of me.

“Where were you? You can’t do that, Kenzi. You have to stay by me.”

She takes the ice cream cone from me and gives it a lick. “I just went over there for a second. There was a man with a cat on a leash.”

“I don’t care if it was a monkey driving a car. You don’t run away from me. Ever. Okay?”

She puts her hand on her hip and rolls her eyes. “Monkey’s can’t drive, Uncle Tor.”

The way she’s staring up at me, I swear she can see right into my soul and it rattles the hell out of me.

“You look like you need to sit for a minute and handle your shit,” she finally says matter-of-factly.

Fuck. She’s been hanging around all of us for way too long. She has the vocabulary of a twenty year old.

“Don’t say ‘shit’, Kenzi. And I’m fine. You just scared me. I thought I lost you.”