cake from the bakery. It’s what we used to do all the time for my birthdays anyway. But, of course, my sister is a bit more…extra. She’s all about the healthy living, clean eating, let’s eat kale for breakfast, lunch, and dinner type of lifestyle.
In a nutshell, she’s a complete psychopath, who doesn’t have taste buds.
Since moving to Dunsmuir from Lake Tahoe, my parents have always sent me to this grocery store to pick up a cake before heading home. It doesn’t matter whose birthday or what occasion it is; it’s become a tradition. It wasn’t until recently that my sister started this healthy lifestyle, then to top it off, she went and reeled my parents in, too. Mom suddenly decided she wanted my dad to eat better, so she cut back on a lot of store-bought shit in favor of making it all herself. Their home has changed a lot since I was living there as a teen.
I’m startled out of my thoughts when a little hand reaches out in my peripheral. When I glance to my left, I spot a little girl, balancing on the shelves, reaching for the pink frosting. Her brown hair curtains her face, shielding her from view, so I can’t gauge how old she is. But guessing by how tiny she is, she can’t be older than four or five.
“Hey, kiddo. Do you need some help?”
She pauses and slowly lifts her face up toward mine, causing the curtain of hair covering her face to unveil her. My brows disappear into my hairline as I stare at the little girl. She looks almost identical to my sister’s daughter, my niece, Valeria. With light brown hair that curls at the bottom, bright green, almond-shaped eyes with thick lashes, she looks like another little Black child running around.
I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but she looks so much like my niece did when she was younger, I find myself doing a double take, frowning down at her.
Her little nose, which is lightly dusted in freckles, crinkles. “My mommy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.” Her tone is sassy, and it’s all I can do not to laugh at her. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, holding back my smirk.
“Your mommy sounds like a smart woman. Where is she?”
The little girl shrugs. “She’s at home.”
My brows pull down, and I glance around us. “So…how did you get here?”
“My papa took me.”
“Okay, kid.” I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. It would be just my luck that I run into a lost child at the grocery store while I’m supposed to be here picking up one thing. “You’re gonna have to start making more sense. Where is your papa then?”
She shrugs. “I think he’s buying a cake from the cake lady. He promised I could pick frosting to dip my strawberries in. Back home, me and Mommy always dipped our strawberries in frosting.”
My mouth drops open, then closes as I try to process the heap of information she just dropped on me. Whose kid is this?
When she continues staring up at me expectantly, I glance toward the frostings, then back down at her sassy little form. “So the pink one?”
A grin spreads across her whole face, and once again, I frown, thinking about my sister and my niece. With a shake of my head, I reach for the pink frosting and hand it to her.
“Luna?”
We both turn at the deep voice. A crease forms between my brows when I spot Gavin Drake from the two-story on Sunflower Lane. Over the past few years, Gavin has become a close friend. I’ve helped him with a few minor repairs in the house, and we make a point to grab a beer together whenever we get a chance. Hell, I’ve worked on his car a few times, back when I used to work at the garage. I only managed to work there a few years before I had to quit. I couldn’t stand working there a second longer, and it was exactly the nudge I needed to do something else with my life.
I’ve always been good with my hands, so my parents suggested I do something in carpentry. I worked with a small company a few towns over for about two years before I went back to school and got my business degree. I’ve never wanted to answer to someone else, especially not when it comes to a job that I know I can do myself, so I