Page 90 of Falling Back to You

“Hey, no running in the house.” Turning my attention back to Oz, I said, “I don’t need appreciation days.”

“After last night, you should get a national holiday.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

I glanced behind me to make sure Maple was still upstairs before giving Ozzie a good-morning kiss. He cupped my face tenderly, tilting my chin, enhancing the ferocity of our connection. I could get used to Dial tribute days.

18

Ozzie

One of my fondest memories growing up was being outdoors. I loved the feeling of sand beneath my feet or the crunch from walking over freshly fallen snow. My hope was to instill that same love of nature in Maple.

After breakfast, we swung by my place and loaded up my SUV with essentials for a trek to the river. Day camping was a Palmer family tradition. My mother hated all the work that went into building a campsite, pitching tents, cooking food in the elements, so she’d promoted day camping. With day camping you hit the campgrounds early and stayed until it was dark. Fancy and I got to run around and climb shit, and by the end of the day we were exhausted.

Together, Dial and I had continued the tradition, going day camping damn near every other weekend. All we ever needed was one another to have a good time. During the winter we’d hike and have snowball fights, and in the summer we’d skinny-dip in the lake or lie out eating sandwiches. In the woods nothing could touch us, so what better place to bring Maple than a spot that had brought us so much joy?

Co-parenting meant you were always missing out on special moments, like when Dial straightened Maple’s hair for the first and only time. Or two springs ago, when Dial missed me taking the training wheels off Maple’s bicycle and witnessing her ride unassisted. But the way I saw it, we could make our own rules, start over, try again, and give one another some grace.

The morning had a chill to it, but the forecast predicted the day was going to warm up quite a bit, so once we got moving, we’d be able to shed our jackets. I transferred Dial’s midsized cooler to my Jeep.

Dial examined the vehicle. “It’ll be a nice day for off-roading.”

“You know it.” I was a man who loved his toys, guns, ATVs, bikes. And Dial liked danger—at least, she used to. Unlike with me, I thought age had made her more cautious.

“I helped Mommy with snacks and lunch.” Maple claimed her mother’s hand. I couldn’t settle on whether she was a daddy’s girl or her mother’s mini me. She was definitely a blend of both of us. She had her mother’s sense of adventure and my outgoing personality.

“What did you make?” I asked.

“Deli sandwiches, and I cut us some slices of pie,” Dial said.

“There’s also jerky, potato chips, and other goodies,” Maple added.

“And I included one other surprise while you weren’t looking,” Dial teased.

“Is it pickles?” Maple asked.

“No.”

“Popcorn?”

“No.”

“Pork rinds?”

“Why are you only picking things that begin with the letter P?” I asked.

She considered my words before turning back to her mother. “Popsicles?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Dial pinched her cheek.

“If I guess it before we get to the river, will you tell me?”

“Maybe.”

In the Jeep on the way to Cane Fork Highlands State Park, Maple busied herself with a game on her tablet that required her to run around an island collecting sticks and planting trees.