Page 43 of Cinder
“That’s not what I meant.”
I glance at him.
“She doesn’t always… attach,” he says. “But she decided about you fast.”
There’s something more there, but I can tell he’s not going to explain, and honestly, that’s fine by me. I’m not about to spill my life story to him, either.
We reach the motel quicker than I expect, and I nod to the dimly lit parking lot.
“This is me,” I say.
Elle runs up and throws her arms around me.
“Goodnight again,” she says, her voice muffled against my sweater.
I hug her back, breathing in shampoo and night air.
“Goodnight, Penguin Princess.”
She steps back, beaming, and looks up at her dad.
“Can Penny come over for Sunday pancakes?”
“Elle,” he says gently.
“What? I’m just asking.”
He rests a hand lightly on her shoulder.
“We’ll see.”
She studies me like I might have a say in the matter.
“I’ll probably be around,” I tell her, trying to remain vague.
“So you promise you can come, then? Please?”
Promise.
Now there’s a word I refuse to use lightly. Promises were easy currency in my old world, thrown around carelessly—and broken just as easily. I hated it, and I learned early not to offer them if I couldn’t back them completely.
My mouth opens, and I glance briefly at Evan.
“I don’t promise stuff unless I mean it,” I say. “But if I tell you I’ll be somewhere, I’ll be there.”
That seems to satisfy Elle at least. She takes Gus’s leash and walks backward toward the sidewalk, giving him a running commentary about penguins eating herring and whether dogs are allowed pancakes.
Evan doesn’t move straight away. The motel office light beams faintly behind me, and a moth taps against the glass.
“You’re good with her,” he says quietly.
I shrug a shoulder, but hold his gaze. “She’s great.”
Elle reaches the edge of the pavement and pivots back toward us. “Daddy!”
“Coming, bug.” He exhales through his nose, then he looks at me again. “We make pancakes on Sundays. Seven-thirty-ish. If you’re around.”
I nod. “I’m usually up pretty early.”
