She had taken blankets. Sandwiches. And my car keys. She’d gone to the abandoned house across the street.
I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t wake Hayden. I grabbed my coat and ran.
The old house’s front door creaked open with barely any resistance. Inside, sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor and wrapped in three mismatched blankets, was my daughter. A flashlight lay beside her. A neat stack of sandwiches sat close by, like she’d planned this carefully.
She looked up at me, eyes shining with pride.
“I’m waiting for Santa,” she said simply. “The reindeer might be tired. They need somewhere warm to rest.”
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