The alarm on my bedside table goes off. I let it beep while I stare up at the ceiling. “Another day,” I say to my empty room before shutting it off. Throwing the covers back, my feet touch the somewhat cold floor. The threadbare carpet needs replacing, among other things. It’s on the long list of things I need to do to upgrade this house.

Heather and I bought this place because of the yard. We wanted to give Holly a yard to play in that was safe, and where she could create her own adventures. Also, the land afforded us a place to build a larger garage to store our sixty-five Ford Mustang and a bay for me to tinker with another car. We put the inside of the house on hold, for what seems like forever now.

My bed creaks as I push off it to stand. I stretch and do the yoga poses my physical therapist suggested after I hurt my back on the job. Of course, I only do them for a few minutes and not the thirty that was recommended, but they’re done nonetheless.

In the hall, the faint sound of Christmas music plays from Holly’s room. I knock lightly on her door and hear her scramble to get out of bed. As she has gotten older, we’ve set rules about personal and private space. She needs it, and so do I, but I have reserved the right to bust in without a warrant if I so choose.

“Morning, Daddy.” Her toothless smile beams up at me. She’s my life, and the reason I get up in the morning. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be. I take in her attire. Thermal pants, a sweater, socks and there’s a nightgown somewhere because I can see the bottom hanging down.

My house is cold, and weatherizing it was and has been at the top of my list, but there’s always something that pushes it down. Of course, the big ticket item is my living room. It lacks flooring. I made the mistake of tearing up what was there, thinking I had the money to put down new hardwood. Who knew one simple mistake in the checkbook can change everything? Not to mention the furnace went out and replacing it was a must, which honestly defeats the purpose if my windows and doors have drafts.

“Good morning, punky. Are you ready for breakfast?” She nods and reaches for my hand. This has been our routine for almost two years. It started when she was five, and I dread the day it stops because I look forward to this moment each morning.

Our kitchen is probably the nicest room in the house. It was remodeled before we purchased and thankfully doesn’t need to be touched, although there are features I’d like to change, like the color of the cabinets and the flooring. Someday. That is what I tell myself every day. Someday I’ll have the money to fix each project.

Holly climbs up onto one of the bar stools at the end of the island and starts fiddling with some kid meal toy she got when she was with my sister yesterday. If it weren’t for Meredith, I don’t know how I’d be able to do half the stuff I do now, like maintaining a full-time job. As is, I’ve had to ask for special consideration so I can be off by five most nights, but I try to volunteer for overtime as much as I can because we need the money. Not that Holly would ever know. Anything she asks for, I do what I can to get it for her.

“What do you want for breakfast?” I ask as I open the cupboard. Her options are limited, and she knows this. Still, she pretends to think.

“Toast and cereal.”

“You got it.” On Sunday, after church, we’ll go to my parents for brunch but always stay until dinner. A home-cooked meal with my parents beats the boxed dinner I’d end up making. I repeat my mantra as I pour her cereal and her slice of bread toasts, and as I make our lunches for the day. Once the toaster pops, I pour the milk, so her breakfast isn’t soggy. “Here ya go.”

Holly smiles. “Thanks, Daddy.”

While Holly eats, I get ready for work, swapping out my flannel pajama pants for sweats and a t-shirt and throw on a hoodie to keep me warm. Everything I need for work is at the station, in my locker, along with my service weapon. I have an off-duty piece, but since I rarely leave Ramona Falls and our crime rate is very low, I rarely carry it and keep it locked up, so Holly doesn’t come across it.

Holly yells that she’s done and I ask her to meet me in the bathroom. I try not to hover, but want to make sure she’s brushing her teeth properly, so I make it a race. She has yet to figure out that we’re racing against nothing because we both brush until the egg timer goes off, yet she wins each and every time. I know one of these days she’s going to call me out for it. I just hope it’s not anytime soon.

Never in my life did I picture myself as a single dad. I’m standing behind Holly, watching as she struggles to put her hair in a ponytail. I wish I had learned this from her mother before she left. She took the time to master the smallest details when it comes to raising a daughter, but I didn’t.

“Do you want me to help? I saw a video on the web the other day of a dad who used the vacuum to suck his daughter’s hair up so he could put the elastic band on it.”

Holly calmly sets her brush down and eyes me through the mirror. “You will not use that machine on my hair.”

I shrug and continue to watch her, wishing I could be useful. I’ve thought about asking my sister to take Holly, to let her live with her during the week because I believe it would be better, but I can’t bring myself to broach the subject. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without her around every night.

“There, all done?”

“Are you sure?”

She looks at me again, waiting for me to tell her where she’s missed a piece. “Would you like me to braid your hair?” It’s the only thing I know how to do. I taught myself by practicing with my shoelaces.

Holly shakes her head and rips the elastic band from her hair, pulling a few strands out. Tears start to form in her eyes. I rest my hand on top of hers and reach for the hairbrush with the other. At first, she shies away, but I keep at it, until her long blonde hair is smooth down her back, and I can gather it at the base of her neck. It’s the best I can do for now.

“Aunt Mere can put it up when you see her this morning.”

“I like it this way,” she says, turning her head from side to side, looking at my sorry excuse for a ponytail. I know she does this to appease me, and I hate it. I want things to be different for her, better.

Meredith, my sister, says I need to get back into the dating world. As luck would have it, she has the best person in mind. In fact, my entire family thinks I should ask Shelby Whittensby out on a date, propose and marry her by the end of the night. I know they want what’s best for Holly and me, but I’m not sure Shelby is the answer.

Holly and I grab our lunches and walk to our garage through our breezeway. I’ve thought about closing this part in to make my bedroom bigger, but it’s so far down the list of things I need to accomplish, I can’t imagine it’ll ever happen, at least not in this lifetime. My biggest fear is I’m going to grow old and die in this house.

Holly goes around to her side of the truck, while I open the garage door. It’s ancient and rickety but keeps the snow out. It seems that another few inches fell while we were sleeping last night. I should’ve set my alarm a few minutes earlier or at least gotten up to look when I woke.

After backing out, I get out and close the garage door. Inside the cab, Holly has changed the station to Christmas music. I groan internally as she starts rattling off her wish list. There are times when I want to tell her Santa’s broke, but I refuse to dampen the magic for her.

“When do you think we can get our Christmas tree?”

“Probably this weekend. Maybe we’ll go after church.”

Holly doesn’t say anything; she just nods and continues to stare out the window while she sings along to the radio. “It’ll be fun when our living room is done, and we can put the tree in front of the big window. Won’t it, Daddy?”

“Mhm. Hopefully next year, but we can still put our tree there,” I tell Holly, although unless I win the lottery, it’s not likely. I still have mounds of medical bills to pay off that my insurance didn’t cover. I think I’m on a payment plan that ends when Holly graduates high school. And that’s if nothing happens to either of us from now until then.

I pull into the drop-off and immediately notice my sister talking to Shelby. I groan and throw my truck into drive, praying the two women stay where they are. “I’ll pick you up from Aunt Mere’s when I’m done.”

“Yes, I know. And you’ll call if you’re going to be late?”

“Or Eileen will.” Eileen is our dispatch secretary or better known as the department’s work wife. “Love you, punky.”

“Love you too.” Holly climbs out of my truck and heads toward her group of friends. This year she deemed it unnecessary to give me a kiss goodbye. I pretend like it doesn’t bother me, but deep down it does. The first few weeks of school I found myself tearing up as I drove away, wondering how things changed so quickly.

Before I can pull away, my sister waves me down. Hot on her heels is Shelby, with a sunny smile. I wish I could bring myself to ask her out, but I can’t. I don’t know if it’s because she’s like Heather, involved in the school and every community event or if it’s because I’m just not ready.

“Hey, Mere,” I say as she opens the passenger side door.

“I can’t take Holly home with me tonight.”

“But I can take her,” Shelby jumps in. “Shawna would love to have a play date with Holly. We plan to make cookies tonight, and probably do a little decorating.”

I look back and forth between the two women, not knowing what to say. I can’t help but feel like this is a set-up, but I also can’t leave work early to pick Holly up. I give in and nod. “Thanks, Shelby. I should be there shortly after five.”

She waves me off. “No rush at all, Aiden.”

“Meredith, can you tell Holly for me?” My sister nods and closes the door to my truck, so I can pull away. I tell myself that one time won’t hurt anything and Holly would probably love spending time with Shawna. It’s the other things that bother me: cookies and decorating. Both are two things I know Holly loves, but I can’t provide for her right now.

When I get to the station, Eileen waves. “Fresh coffee in the back.”

“Thanks. Hey, can you help me with something?”

“Anything, Fisher.”

“I want to make cookies with Holly, but I’m not much of a baker.”

“Say no more. There is ready-made dough at the grocers. I’ll write the name down for you. It’s straightforward and easy to use.”

“Thanks, Eileen. Too bad you’re with Dominic.” Eileen knows I’m joking or maybe I’m not. I’ve known her since high school and can easily say, she’s one of the good ones. Always has been. The rumor mill in town is saying Dom is going to ask her to marry him. If he doesn’t, the line to start dating her will be long.