Everyone knew that Lucy Messer was the apple of her father’s eye, and he’d gladly walk through hot coals if it meant his daughter was safe and happy. He’d do the same for his wife and he wasted no time in letting them know it.
But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do this for her, even when her baby blues blinked pleadingly, and her tiny arms wrapped around his neck while she whispered numerous ‘pleases’ into his ear, he shook his head in refusal. His heart broke as much as hers was for not being able to do it.
Even with Lindsay telling him that the chances of it happening again were slim to none, he wasn’t willing to take the chance, he didn’t care if the chance of history repeating itself were as low as one per-cent; he’d lock his little girl away until he was positive it couldn’t happen.
The pink bicycle stood in the corner of the room, the stabilizer wheels clean and shiny, and the tassels on the handlebars remained straight and untangled. A woven pink basket sat on the front, Lucy’s name woven in with white strands displayed the proud owner of the bike. A birthday present from Danny’s mother, a painful...
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