Colton heard the footsteps when they reached his table. He lifted his gaze—and found the child standing there, staring at his left arm.
Not his face.
Not his vest.
His wrist.
“You lost, kid?” he asked.
His voice was deep, but not unkind.
Lila didn’t answer. She simply raised her finger and pointed at the tattoo near his wrist. It was small compared to the others: a crescent moon wrapped in wildflowers, faded by years and sun. It was the first tattoo he had ever gotten.
Mara had the same one.
They’d done it together when she turned eighteen, laughing afterward because their father would’ve had a heart attack if he’d seen it.
Lila looked up at him with calm, solemn eyes.
“Hi, mister,” she said softly. “My mom has that too.”
The mug nearly slipped from Colton’s hand.
For a second, the whole room seemed to tilt.
“What did you say?” he asked, too fast.
Lila blinked, unafraid. “My mom. She has that moon flower on here.” She touched her own wrist.
Colton’s chest tightened so hard it hurt. “What’s your mom’s name?”
The girl opened her mouth—
And the restroom door slammed open.
Darren strode back into the diner, saw where Lila was standing, and went pale.
“Get away from him,” he snapped.
Every head in the diner turned.
Lila flinched and hugged her bunny.
Colton rose slowly from the booth, every inch of him suddenly alert. “You know her mother?”
Darren’s eyes flicked to Colton’s tattoo, then to the child, and something ugly flashed in his face. Fear. Recognition. Rage.
“Mind your own business,” Darren said, grabbing Lila’s arm.
The girl winced.
That was enough.