Emma thought it was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her.
Ryan did not.
“I don’t want our daughter depending on some biker every afternoon,” he said the first night.
I was washing dishes. “He’s not some
biker. He’s Travis.”
“I know who he is.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
“You trust people too easily.”
I told myself he was simply an overprotective father. Emma was our only child, and Ryan worried about everything from strangers to school buses.
So I let it go.
For three weeks, everything went smoothly.
Every afternoon, Travis walked Emma home.
Every afternoon, she was there when I returned.
She loved those walks and talked about them constantly at dinner.
“Travis showed me how motorcycle engines work.”
