“Uncle Lee! Uncle Lee!”

“Hey, Em.”

I scooped up Emily in my arms and spun her around. Her four-year-old giggles sounded shrill in the living room of my parents’ house.

“Call me Lightning!”

“Lightning?”

“Yes. Lightning McQueen. From Cars.”

“Didn’t that come out awhile ago?”

“Cars 3.” Grace emerged, along with my mom, from the kitchen. “We saw it in theaters and now we have it digitally. So we can stream it. Every day.”

“A good franchise never dies.”

“Play cars with me, Uncle Lee.”

Grace shot me a look. “It’s nearly bedtime. You need to get ready.”

Emily pouted.

“Tell you what, Em. If you go get ready for bed, I’ll come up and read you a book.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Emily disappeared up the stairs, scrambling in her OshKosh overalls, my sister trailing her.

“You guys have a sleepover?” I asked my mom.

“Grace has to leave early tomorrow to visit a client and won’t be back all day. So we thought it would be fun.” She dried her hands on a towel, her brown eyes warm on mine. “I don’t want to be ‘that mom’, but do you ever think about settling down? You’re not getting any younger.”

“Wait a second. I turn thirty and suddenly I’m undatable? That’s crap. I’m going to be a silver fox like Clooney.” I bent to retrieve one of Emily’s toys she’d left on the carpet and tucked it into a basket sitting on the coffee table. “Besides, I’ve introduced you to what, three women over the years?”

“None of them were right for you.”

Maria’s words from months ago abraded the back of my mind as I crossed the carpet to nab a long-forgotten Barbie.

“I ran into Sam Martinez last week.” I dropped the doll into the basket and straightened.

My mom’s brows rose and she made that little assessing sound only moms can make. “I always liked her. I’ve never seen you work for something the way you worked for her.”

She turned and started back into the kitchen. I followed.

“For her friendship,” I corrected as she put water in a kettle to boil for tea.

She shifted a hip against the countertop. “Too bad.”

I pounced on it. “So Sam’s good enough for me.”

“Maybe too good for you.”

I winced. “Ouch. You ruined this moment. And to think I came over to put up the Christmas lights.”

“Your father and I appreciate it. He called yesterday and says hi.”

“When’s he back again?”

“February.” I knew my mom missed him, so I tried to stay around more over the holidays. He was at the age where he could’ve retired but his job was part of him. Despite his gray hair, they’d have to drag him off the ship, which would be its own special challenge given he was six-five and built like a linebacker.

“You want tea?” she asked as the kettle boiled.

“Nah, I’m good. But thanks.” I dropped a kiss on the top of her head then found my way up to the guest bedroom. Grace was letting herself out, leaving the door ajar.

I knocked lightly on it.

“You ready, Lightning?”

“Ready Lee!”

“She doesn’t sound ready to sleep,” I commented to Grace under my breath.

Grace gave me a one-armed squeeze before passing me and starting downstairs.

I pressed inside. The room had a makeover for tonight. Piles of toys and books everywhere, which Grace had made an admirable effort to contain.

Emily was cute as hell, bundled up in her red Cars pajamas.

“You came!”

“I promised. And when you promise something…”

“You have to do it!” she squealed.

“So what’re we reading?”

“This one.” Her stubby hands clutched a board book, waving in the air like a checkered flag at the end of a NASCAR race.

“Okay.” I shifted onto the bed next to her and she scooted close, opening the book in between our laps so one half was on her leg and the other was on mine.

“You don’t read it. You read a page then I read a page,” she declared.

Damn, she was growing up fast. The thought hit me in the gut, but I shook off the wave of emotion, clearing my throat. “Got it. Show me how it’s done.”

She started reading the book, which was about a rabbit that wanted to be fast but had a broken leg.

Some shrink would probably say that my craving for family came from a place of feeling destabilized. The family I had was precious to me, and I’d do anything for them.

My home—this one, the only one that mattered—had been everything I could’ve wanted. Filled with support and encouragement and love.

I didn’t remember much of my time before being adopted. The most salient memories were of pain. But I'd learned to keep those at bay. The older I got, the more they seemed part of someone else’s life anyway.

Whatever edge I carried, I got better at hiding. It, like the faded scars that still marked my skin, would never be truly gone, but school and then Titan had focused me on goals like graduating top of my class, or making my first million.

But as I hit thirty, it seemed like the more I had, the more I wanted. The dissatisfaction in my gut seemed to be growing, spreading, without any obvious cause.

“What’s the morrow, Lee,” Emily demanded when we folded the book shut.

“The morrow.”

“What are we supposed to learn?”

“Oh.” I scrunched up my face. “The moral is that all rabbits are fast enough to run races?”

“No. It’s that you have to keep trying. You always keep trying, right Lee? No matter what?”

I opened my mouth to say yes but thought better of lying to my niece. “Most of the time.”

It’d been two days since I’d seen Sam for lunch. After she’d confirmed receiving the email I sent with some background on the game and images, I’d heard nothing.

Nada.

I’d texted her this morning to see how it was going. Called and got her voicemail this afternoon.

Finally, I got a message saying she’d declined my bank transfer, with a note saying “I can’t do this. Thank you for thinking of me.”

Something was wrong. Something had changed since I’d met with her.

She could definitely use the money. And I’d agreed with her crazy demand not to credit her with the work.

So what was the issue?

Emily pouted, but its effect was lessened when it turned into a yawn. “Keep trying, Lee…” Her head fell back against the pillow.

I ruffled the hair on her head. “All right, Lightning. Thanks for the pep talk.”

It’s insane how clearly kids see the world. They’re not bogged down in our adult bullshit.

Which was why the next day after spending the morning keeping Titan running, I drove back to my parents’ neighborhood, to the Victorian six lots down.

I parked the Bentley, sliding out and crossing the street to the front porch.

I held my breath as I knocked. The door opened before I'd had a chance to properly prepare.

“Mr. Martinez.”

Sharp brown eyes narrowed behind thin-rimmed glasses.

He stood stiffly but didn’t look like a man weakened by illness.

“Riley. McKay. You might remember me.” No response. “Or not.” I took a breath. “I’m looking for Sam.” His frown deepened. “Samantha. Your daughter.”

The door shut in my face.

In fairness, he probably remembered me from such timeless hits like ‘that time Sam came home drunk’, or ‘the sprained wrist from diving off Max Donovan’s uncle’s boat’.

But I’d come this far, so giving up wasn’t an option.

My feet slipped on the grass, the moisture from last night’s frost still present as I rounded the house and crossed the backyard. I glanced toward the upstairs windows, squinting against the sun.

The house was huge, too big for just the two of them. Sam and I’d joked about it in high school. Still, Sam secretly liked it because she had the back of the house.

Her bedroom—suite really—was up the stairs off the kitchen. It was the renovated servants quarters, but it was perfect for a high school girl to paint, play loud music, and generally do whatever she wanted.

We’d snuck in and out of the house a million times.

Now, I looked around the back stairs, I half-hoped I wouldn’t find what I was looking for.

My gaze landed on the brown mound. I blew out a breath.

Bad idea, McKay.

I lifted the plastic joke shop dog turd and flipped it over, peeling the key free from the tape on the back.

Nelson Mandela said that the brave man isn’t the man who doesn’t feel afraid, but the one who conquers his fear.

I’m pretty sure he wasn’t referring to B&E when he said it.

The key turned in the lock and I stepped inside.