The Single Dad (The Dalton Family #3)(87)

“Fuck …” I pressed our noses together, needing her to feel my words as I said, “I love you.”

And then I kissed her.

Harder this time.

Emptying my chest.

Emotionally surrendering.

“I love you,” she breathed back.





Twenty-Two





Sydney





I opened the backseat door of Ford’s SUV and said to Everly, “Jump in, my little muffin.”

She climbed into her high-back booster seat and got settled. “Syd, I’m pooped.”

I laughed, adjusting her placement and securing her in, locking the seat belts in place. “That makes two of us, girlie.” I checked to make sure it was all tight. “Comfy?”

“Yep.” She yawned, and once Ford joined us in the doorway, she added, “Daddy, that hike was haaard.”

“I was trying to tire you out. Did it work?”

I knocked him on the shoulder—for Everly and for me. “It worked. We’re exhausted.”

“Exhauuusted,” Everly echoed.

I shut the door and giggled to Ford. “That kid,” I said before I went over to the other side of the SUV and climbed into the passenger seat.

Ford started up the car and pulled out of the lot. “Are we stopping for ice cream? Or are my girls too tired?”

“Ice cream!”

“We’re never too tired for that,” I told him.

His hand went to my thigh, and I watched him look into the rearview mirror and ask Everly, “Are you all packed for Utah? As of this morning, there were two empty suitcases in your room and clothes everywhere.”

“I need my pink dresses,” she huffed.

I glanced over my shoulder at her. There were beads of sweat on her forehead, and her ponytail was slick in the front. Even her wisps were matted down. There was a smear of dirt on her cheek, and her hot-pink sunglasses were tilted on her face.

I reached back and fixed her frames, making them even. “Tell your dad we need time to pack. We’re girls; we can’t be rushed.”

“We can’t be rushed, Daddy.”

He slowed for the red light, smiling at me. “We leave at seven tomorrow morning. That isn’t much time.”

As I faced the front, I wrapped my fingers around his. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it done. We just need to feel out each outfit and decide if we’ll be in the mood to wear it on our trip. It’s called options, Dad. Get with it.”

“Get with it, Dad,” Everly repeated.

You’re going to get it, he mouthed at me, joking.

I winked at him and turned toward Everly. “After ice cream and a bath, we’re on it. Aren’t we, little lady?”

“Yep!”

As I faced the windshield, something flashed across my vision.

A swirl of black.

And a sound followed, one I couldn’t quite distinguish.

But then it hit me.

It was brakes.

Screeching.

From the car that was coming right for us.

My eyes widened.

My mouth opened.

“Ford!” I pushed my back against the seat. “The car!”

It didn’t matter that it tried to slow.

It was moving fast.

Too fast.

There was no way out of this.

It was going to hit us.

“Ford!” I shouted again.

But he was already reacting, yanking the steering wheel to the right, sending us toward the side of the road.

“Hold on!” he yelled.

Our SUV veered.

There was another screech of tires.

I didn’t know if it had come from us or the other driver.

And there was screaming, but that was all I heard.

“Oh my God!” I filled my lungs.

“Daddy!” Everly shouted.

I couldn’t reach for her. I couldn’t move.

And her voice was the last thing I heard before the crunch exploded in my eardrums.

The impact sent me to the door, and then I flew forward, where the airbag hit me in the face, stopping me from nailing the dashboard. I bounced against the seat, ricocheting forward and back until I could finally stop myself.

“Ford!” I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. Everything in my head was ringing. “I smell smoke.”

“It’s the airbags,” he said. His tone immediately rose as he said, “Everly! Everly, baby, are you okay?” When she didn’t answer, he said again, “Everly! I need you to talk to me. I need to hear that you’re all right.”

She made a sound that I couldn’t understand.

“Sydney,” he said, distraught, “are you okay?”

I swallowed air down my throat, trying to move the airbag out of my way to free myself. “I don’t know …” I couldn’t feel my body. When I rubbed my fingers together, they were all there. My toes wiggled. I could lift my legs. “I think so.”

“Everly,” Ford said, frantically trying to undo his seat belt to get to her. “Everly, baby girl, answer Daddy. Are you all right?”

Except he couldn’t get out. The car that had hit us had crushed half of his door and half of Everly’s—that whole side of the SUV jammed up.