Chương 3
“No.”
It was the answer he wanted to give.
But it was not completely true.
He swallowed.
“Daddy is mad at himself right now.”
Grace frowned.
“Why?”
Stallone looked ahead.
Because some truths were too complicated for a three-year-old.
“Because grown-ups make mistakes.”
She thought about that.
“Like spilling juice?”
A small breath escaped him.
Almost a laugh.
“Exactly like spilling juice.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
“Vanessa said I did.”
Stallone tightened his fingers around the steering wheel.
He did not like the anger that came up inside him.
Anger was easy.
Anger had always been easy.
The harder thing was staying calm long enough to protect someone.
When they arrived at his house, Grace noticed the old birdhouse hanging near the porch.
Her mother had painted it years ago when she was a teenager.
The paint was faded now.
The little yellow flowers she had added were almost gone.
Grace pointed.
“Mommy made that.”
Stallone nodded.
“She did.”
She looked at him.
“Was Mommy little?”
“Yes.”
“Did she get in trouble?”
He smiled sadly.
“Sometimes.”
“Did you put her in a cage?”
The question stopped him.
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Then he paused.
“I never should have made anyone feel trapped.”
Grace seemed satisfied with that.
Children often accepted simple truths adults spent years avoiding.
Inside the house, Stallone made her a sandwich even though she said she was not hungry.
He cut it into small squares because that was how his daughter used to prefer them when she was young.
Grace noticed.
“Mommy liked them like that?”
He looked at the plate.
“Yeah.”
The kitchen became quiet.
Not painful.
Just full.
After she ate a few bites, she started coloring at the table.
Stallone stood near the sink washing a cup that was already clean.
He did it because his hands needed something to do.
His phone buzzed.
Daniel.
He stared at the name for several seconds.
Then he answered.
“What?”
There was silence on the other end.
Not anger.
Something else.
“You took her without asking.”
Stallone dried his hand on a towel.
“She was scared.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Yes.”
The agreement seemed to surprise Daniel.
Stallone sat down.
“She is also my granddaughter.”
Daniel breathed heavily.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Neither do I.”
That honesty caught Daniel off guard.
“I’m not trying to win.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Stallone looked toward Grace, who was carefully choosing colors for a picture of a house.
“I’m trying to make sure she remembers today correctly.”
Daniel did not answer.
Stallone continued.
“I don’t want her to grow up thinking love means people can hurt you and call it discipline.”
The silence lasted longer this time.
Then Daniel said quietly, “You really think I’m that bad?”
Stallone closed his eyes.
The question was not angry.
That made it harder.
“No.”
He looked at the floor.
“I think you are scared.”
Daniel said nothing.
“I think you are trying so hard not to fail that you are creating the same damage you were trying to avoid.”
The line went quiet.
Then the call ended.
Stallone placed the phone down.
He did not feel victorious.
He felt exhausted.
Outside, a neighbor’s dog barked twice and then stopped.
Grace continued coloring.
A few minutes later, she held up the picture.
It showed a house, a tree, and three people standing together.
Stallone looked at it.
“Who are they?”
Grace pointed.
“That’s me.”
Then she pointed to a tall figure.
“That’s Grandpa.”
Then the smaller figure beside the house.
“That’s Daddy.”
Stallone looked at the drawing for a long time.
Even after everything, she had still drawn him.
He did not know whether that made him hopeful or afraid.
Because children had a way of carrying love into places where adults had left damage behind.
And he knew the hardest part was not opening the kennel door.
The hardest part was making sure Grace never felt like she needed one closed again.
The next morning, Grace woke up before the sun had fully reached the windows.
She sat quietly on the edge of the guest bed, holding the stuffed rabbit Stallone had found in the closet after searching through old boxes.
The rabbit was missing one button eye and had a faded blue ribbon around its neck.
It was not the kind of toy most people would have bought for a child.
It was old.
A little worn.
A little forgotten.
That was exactly why Grace liked it.
Stallone found her sitting there when he walked past the room carrying a basket of laundry.
“You’re awake early.”
She nodded.
“Rabbit was awake.”
He looked at the toy.
“Is he usually up before everyone else?”
Grace nodded seriously.
“He watches.”
Stallone smiled.
“Good job.”
He walked away before she could see how much the simple sentence affected him.
The house had been quiet for years.
Too quiet.
After his wife died and his daughter moved away, he had convinced himself that quiet meant peace.
Now he wondered if he had confused emptiness with peace.
He poured coffee into his old mug, the one with a small crack near the handle.
His wife had told him to throw it away five years ago.
He never did.
Not because it was special.
Because replacing it felt like admitting something had ended.
His phone sat on the counter.
Three missed calls.
Two from Daniel.
One from Vanessa.
He did not touch it immediately.
Instead, he watched Grace color at the kitchen table.
She was completely focused on a picture she was making.
Every few seconds, she changed colors for reasons only she understood.
Children had their own logic.
Adults spent years trying to replace it with rules.
Finally, he picked up the phone.
The first message from Daniel was short.
We need to talk.
The second was longer.
I’m coming over.
Stallone read it twice.
May you like
He did not feel afraid.
He felt tired.
