HAZEL blinked at her father, her brows knitting together. For a moment she thought she had misheard him. Since they had begun these calls— since she and her mother left the house— he had never once asked about Mom. Never. So why now?
“What?!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying both surprise and suspicion.
Adrian gave a soft chuckle, sensing her confusion.
“I said… how is your mom doing, Hazel?” he repeated gently.
Hazel narrowed her eyes, her small lips pursed.
“Mm. Do you… miss Mommy?”
The question caught him squarely off guard. His composure faltered.
“Well, yeah— no, I mean yes. No— oh God!” he groaned, dragging his free hand down his face in embarrassment.
Hazel chuckled, shaking her head.
“Daddy, you have never asked of Mom before.”
“I know, pumpkin,” Adrian said quickly,
