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  According to Miss Myers, if there was only going to be one role model in a child's life, it was always better for it to be a woman.

  She urged me not to give up on Isabella.

  There were already meetings scheduled, and she promised that as soon as she found even a shred of evidence of any wrongdoing or neglect, she would start the process of declaring him unfit and having Isabella taken away. She'd be mine again. In her opinion, the whole thing was more of a when rather than an if.

  As such, she made me promise to keep my eyes open for anything she could use, no matter how small.

  Like, perhaps, how completely unprepared he seemed to be when Izzy and I had shown up today. Or maybe how it seemed like he had absolutely no support system nearby. Cooper said his whole family lived out of state, and it sounded like most of his friends were just teammates or bimbos. Certainly no one he could rely on to help.

  How was he going to manage raising a child when football season started again? When he had to practice or travel to games? Who was going to look after her? He certainly couldn't drag her along to sit on the bench to be watched over by all the cheerleaders.

  It was one thing if he had family around, but they were hours away.

  Who would look after Izzy? Babysitters? A nanny? What's the point of taking her away from me if he's just going to have her raised by strangers?

  The elevator numbers lit up, but this time Tanner's friend was choosing to remain silent. Maybe he felt like he'd already said too much. He certainly wasn’t standing there contemplating when it would be his turn to babysit.

  There were too many unanswered questions, all of them important points that Tanner hadn’t properly considered or thought through. That also made them exactly the type of thing Miss Myers asked me to report back to her about.

  And I intended to do just that.

  13

  Tanner

  Laney wasn’t exaggerating when she said that girls and boys are different, and not just when it comes to what you find changing their diapers.

  Although, what the fuck was up with that?

  So many fucking folds and places I didn't want to know about where shit can hide. What the hell had Laney been feeding this girl? Taco bell?

  But aside from the twenty minutes, half a pack of wet wipes and multiple outfit changes—for both of us—that it generally took just to clean her after she’d crapped herself, I had no idea how to entertain the kid.

  My brothers were easy. Maybe it was also the age difference, but I could sit them down in front of the TV or press a video game controller into their hands and they'd be happy for hours. I could go and do other things and not have to come back other than to break up the occasional impromptu wrestling match or make someone a sandwich.

  Isabella wasn't interested in television, was too young for video games and didn't eat sandwiches. All she seemed to like to do was run around the house screaming at the top of her lungs, either in happiness or misery, and color on any surface that she could reach.

  I was fucking exhausted.

  My brothers had energy, but it could be directed at things. And it would come in bursts. They'd play a rowdy game or attack each other and go at it for a time, but then eventually stop and take a break to recharge. Or at least get distracted and move on to something else.

  Not Isabella. She was like the energizer bunny. She kept going and going until she dropped, literally, into a nap. One minute she'd be screeching across the halls dragging a doll and waving a marker around menacingly, and the next she'd fall onto the couch and crash for at least an hour or two.

  Those were the times I should have been napping as well, but instead I was left cleaning up her latest disasters, hiding everything delicate or dangerous that I'd thought I'd secured but that she'd managed to get access to anyway, or getting ready for her next onslaught. Hell, just preparing her meals took forever. I was obsessed with making sure everything was small enough that she wouldn't choke, which meant cutting up fruits, vegetables, cheese, whatever. Luckily, she wasn't picky about eating and would sample most of what I put in front of her. But the ten minutes or so she spent eating at a time wasn't nearly long enough of a break.

  Still, one positive thing about Izzy was that she was a generally happy child—not that her happiness was any less tiring—and that happiness was infectious. It only took spending a day and a half with her to start feeling better and more confident in my decision not to give her up.

  But then I met her misery, and suddenly all my doubts started to come crashing back down on top of me.

  "De-ainy!" she was screeching. "De-ainy, de-ainy, de-ainy!"

  "Shh, it's okay Iz. Calm down. Delaney isn't here, remember? But you'll see her again soon. But you have me now. Daddy." I was still getting used to using that word, but I figured it was my best chance at calming her down. If the problem was that she was missing her surrogate mother, shouldn't her real father be a good enough stand in?

  Unfortunately, Isabella wasn't much for logic. She stared at me for only a moment before bursting into a fresh round of tears and wails. "De-aaaainnnnnyyyy!"

  This had been going on for about half an hour and there didn't seem to be very much I could do to make her feel any better. It was like she had only just realized that she wasn't going home again. That this wasn't just an extended play date with a long-lost uncle.

  I gathered her back up into my arms as she wailed, burying her face in my shoulder. Nap time was twenty minutes ago, so she was overly tired on top of everything else. So was I.

  "I want De-ainy..." Her tiny voice was muffled against my shirt.

  "I know Iz, I know..." Immediately I began to feel like shit again for taking her away from everyone she knew, even while also being angry at all of them for keeping her from me for so long.

  Can you blame them?

  I did my best to ignore that thorny question, even though it continued to prick at me every time I began to feel slightly persecuted by the situation.

  But it was hard to ignore, what with Isabella bawling her eyes out at being dumped on a father she never knew because he was too much of a dickbag for anyone to ever believe he'd want anything to do with her.

  Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore and di the one thing I’d promised myself I wasn't going to do no matter how bad things got.

  I called Delaney.

  "What's wrong?" Her voice became heavy with concern as soon as she recognized my voice. "Is Izzy okay?"

  "She's fine," I said, instantly feeling defensive.

  "Then why do I hear her crying. What did you do, Garrick?"

  "Nothing," I protested. "She just... she just misses you, that's all."

  There was a pause, but when Delaney next spoke her voice sounded weird. Almost like she was smiling. "Put her on."

  "Iz? You want to talk to Delaney?"

  The crying immediately stopped and Izzy lifted her tear stained face to nod emphatically. I handed her the phone, but then had to adjust it so that she wasn't trying to listen to the screen.

  I could hear Laney talking to her, and watched the little girl nod as if she could be seen. Delaney must have been used to that though, as she just continued to talk for a few more minutes.

  "She can't see you," I finally pointed out to the girl. I'd brought her over to the couch and placed her down, taking a seat next to her. "You have to use your mouth so she can hear you."

  "Okay," she finally said. "Bye bye." Then she reached the phone out to me, but dropped it onto the couch before I could grab it.

  "You still there?" I asked, after catching it just before it slid onto the floor and bringing it up to my ear. "What did you say to her?"

  "She just needed to hear a familiar voice." Delaney’s voice was soft, but I was sure of it now. She sounded happy. Probably gloating that I was having such a hard time.

  "That’s it? You just had to say hello for everything to be alright in the world again?"

  Isabella was shuffling around on the couch, but ended up
with her head down on my leg and a smile on her face. It had been less than an hour since I'd seen that smile, but it felt like eternity. I wanted to know the secret to bringing it back at will.

  "Well, I also promised her I would see her soon."

  "How soon?"

  "Tomorrow morning. She misses me Garrick. You can't expect her to go cold turkey on everyone she's ever known. She's only two."

  "I'm aware," I grumbled, although I wasn't as opposed to the idea as I would have expected. It would do the kid some good to see Delaney again and realize she hadn't disappeared from her life completely.

  But maybe I was eager for other reasons, too. Reasons I refused to fully acknowledge.

  "I'll see you around eight, then."

  "In the morning?"

  "Sleeping in is no longer an option when you have a toddler. I thought you would have figured that out this morning. What time did she wake up?"

  "Six thirty. But I thought that was just a one-off thing because she was in an unfamiliar bed."

  Delaney laughed. It would have sounded musical if I didn't know it was directed at me.

  "Get used to it, Garrick."

  "Fine. Bring coffee." Then I hung up.

  Isabella was snoring softly on my leg, sound asleep after being calmed by Delaney's voice. I wish I could say the same for myself. It was a relief not to hear the kid screaming anymore, but the doubts that had returned with that sound hadn’t vanished now that she was quiet.

  The phone was still in my hand when it began buzzing again. I'd turned off the ringer yesterday after having it prematurely wake Isabella from one of her naps. I’d resolved to keep the ringer off until she was about fifteen.

  The call display told me it was my brother Quinn. Of all my siblings, I was closest with him. Since he was just a year younger than me, he was the one I’d recruited most often to help out when we were growing up. He was also the only one of my family I'd told about Isabella so far, and even that was over a quick e-mail last night after she'd gone to sleep.

  "Hey," I greeted.

  "Hey? Shit, bro, you have a fucking two-year-old daughter and all you have to say is 'hey'? And what the fuck is with telling me over e-mail? You too busy for a goddam phone call these days?"

  Quinn tended to swear a lot. It was one of those things that a proper father would have likely nipped in the bud when he was younger, but at the time I thought it was funny so I encouraged it. Maybe that was early proof I wasn't cut out for raising kids of my own.

  "Well, like I wrote, it's not like I've known about it for very long myself. Everything happened so fast I haven't had time to process it all yet."

  "I bet. Crap, I can't imagine how heavy that must be with everything else you've got going on."

  He was right. It was too much. My life was too busy for this. I really had made a mistake.

  "I guess that kid's lucky her dad is the fucking Flash, though."

  "Unfortunately this Flash can't be in two places at once..." Raising a kid on my own and playing pro football? It was an impossible task.

  Quinn laughed. "I dunno man, growing up it sometimes felt like you were fucking everywhere. Making our lunch, getting us to school on time, helping us with our homework, playing ball or even just video games. Shit, you even gave Cullen and Kingston the birds and the bees talk, didn't you?"

  Now I laughed. I'd forgotten about that.

  "Anyway, just saying, that girl coulda ended up with a piece of shit like our father, but instead she lucked out with the man who took his place instead."

  I appreciated the sentiment, but Quinn didn't get it.

  "Girls are different than boys, Q. And raising a toddler is a lot harder than raising a seven or nine-year-old."

  "I don’t doubt it, which is why I said that kid is lucky to having Tanner fucking Garrick on her side. No one works harder than you, bro. I've never met anyone else that looks at a challenge like you and just fucking rips into it, never giving in. Never giving up. Hell, you raised three brothers, went to school and got drafted to a professional football team by the time you were nineteen. Who fucking does that?"

  Where the hell was all this hero worship when I was trying to convince Quinn to take his homework more seriously? Still, the situations were different.

  "I didn't do it alone, Q. Mom was around at night, and I remember getting you to pitch in on more than one occasion with Cullen and King."

  "Right, you did, so who says you have to raise this one all by yourself?"

  "She's my daughter. My responsibility. Anyway, her mother is dead. I can't really go looking there for help."

  "I was mom's son, so were you. We were her responsibility, but that didn't mean she could do everything. You helped her. I helped you. Haven't you ever heard the saying, it takes a mother fucking village?"

  "I'm not sure that's exactly the saying..."

  "Close enough. Point is, no one raises a kid alone. And neither should the Flash. But either way, I have no doubt you're going to do a better job raising that kid than most." I had to look at my call display again to make sure I really was talking to my brother. I wasn't used to getting pep talks from him. But then he finished his thought. "After all, you raised me, didn't you? And I turned out pretty fucking spectacular."

  We both laughed, but mostly to break up the awkwardness at the unexpected depth in our conversation. Still, I couldn't help but consider the idea that if something that thoughtful had come out of my brother's foul mouth, then maybe I hadn't done such a bad job with him after all.

  Whether he was giving me too much credit for raising him or not, Quinn at least succeeded in reminding me of one important thing.

  I'd never backed away from a challenge before. And with the stakes as high as they were this time, I wasn't about to start.

  14

  Delaney

  I've never hated myself more for feeling good about something.

  Of course it broke my heart to hear how miserable Izzy was, but at the same time it meant that she really did miss me. Maybe as much as I missed her.

  My immediate impulse was to rush right over there, but that would have just made things worse. Izzy had to learn that I couldn't come running every time she needed me anymore. That was her father's job now. The sooner she understood that, the better off she'd be.

  But that didn't stop me from showing up there first thing the next morning, as promised. I was even a little bit early, but I knew they wouldn’t be sleeping.

  "Coffee."

  It wasn't so much a demand as an empty statement of fact. Tanner looked and sounded like a zombie as he reached out to take the cup from my hand.

  "You look terrible," I noted. I was proud for at least attempting to keep the satisfaction from my voice, despite knowing I'd failed.

  I surveyed the apartment as I stepped in, expecting to find it looking as bad as Garrick. Yet aside from Izzy's doll lying at the foot of the couch and some freshly markered walls, it was surprisingly catastrophe free. Gone were all the breakable items and dangerous knick-knacks. Sharp cornered furniture had been either covered or removed. There was even a baby gate installed at the bottom of the stairs.

  He'd done all of this since I dropped her off two days ago, as well as take care of her? No wonder he looked so tired.

  I wasn't sure if I was more shocked or impressed.

  "De-ainy!"

  Isabella came tearing down the hall from the kitchen and threw herself into my arms as I bent to receive her. We struggled to outdo each other with the tightness of our hug.

  "It was a rough night," Tanner said, closing the door behind me and then walking over to the couch to flop down on it. I was surprised that he didn't spill his coffee, but by the hollow sound it made when he set the cup down on the table next to me I realized he'd already drained it. “Talking to you and having a nap helped, but she still wasn’t exactly a happy camper for the rest of the day.”

  That would explain it. Aside from being an early riser, Izzy was normally a good sleeper. Unles
s she was upset.

  When I stood back up to my feet, I had a twenty-five-pound weight hanging from around my neck. Izzy's dark hair tickled my nose as I carried her to the chair opposite Tanner and sat down.

  "Congratulations Garrick, it's a girl. You may find Izzy's a bit freer with her emotions than your brothers."

  "Thanks for the tip, Laney."

  Despite myself, I felt a bit sorry for him so I didn't even give him shit for continuing to call me that. The truth was, he had done a lot here. More than I expected. But at what cost? He probably spent his whole time putting stuff away because it was more important to him than his daughter, not the other way around. He probably hadn't spent five minutes with her since I dropped her off. No wonder she had been so desperate to see me again. Poor thing was probably absolutely starved for attention and love.

  Izzy pushed her hands against my chest and looked up at me with a big smile on her face. I kissed her on the nose.

  "Hey sweetie pie. How do you like it here?"

  She looked around and then gave an exaggerated shrug, and I laughed. Then she spotted Tanner lining on the couch. "Dada fun," she said. "He tired."

  She was already calling him Dada? Maybe Tanner was just harder to pronounce.

  Slipping from my lap, she walked over to Garrick, who had his eyes closed. He may as well have been sleeping for all I knew. But before I could say anything she reached up and grabbed hold of his nose, giving it a tug.

  Tanner's eyes snapped open and I gasped, muscles tensing as I prepared to leap to Izzy's defense at what I expected to be an angry response.

  He turned his head slightly to glare at Izzy and she yanked her hand away. For a moment, the two of them just stared each other down. Then he let out a roar. "Who stole my nose?"