There she was!

His darling daughter. The only person alive that gave a shit if he was, too.

Malachi turned when her voice reached his tears, and though the girl might have frozen at the sight of him, a smile overtook his face. It was strange, sleepy; wider than he ever smiled. It pulled at the cuts on his lip and welled with little dots of fresh blood.

He ignored the question.

“Nettie,” he greeted warmly. His eyes settled on the items in her hands.

“Are those for me?”