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"I can't. Busy with prisoner transport today. Yeah, pulled the wrong card. I'll be in the office tomorrow."
Tim hangs up the phone with a sigh and looks at the young clipboard-wielding woman blocking his path. She's the last line of defense for a gaggle of screeching kindergarteners.
"Givens, Willa," Tim says, and takes off his sunglasses. "I'm on the list. Gutterson, Tim."
"ID?"
Tim pulls out his wallet and badge. The woman leans in and checks it against a page on the almighty clipboard.
"If you think I'm tryin' to steal her, you haven't met Willa." He rocks back on his heels and looks around the teacher's aide.
"Wait, are you that Tim?" The woman looks bewildered. "She had to see the counselor for three months to stop talkin' about the," here she lowers her voice, "shooting!"
"TIM!" Willa barrels out of the throng of children. She grabs Tim's leg and looks at the wielder of the magic clipboard. "Ms. Molly! This is my Tim."
"Hi, Ms. Molly. It's me that Tim. Are we free to go, ma'am?" Tim blinks. "Usually on the other side of that question."
Ms. Molly, who is clearly underpaid, hands back his ID. "Yes. Have a good day, Willa."
"Bye! Carry me!" Willa raises her hands.
"No, I'm not fallin' for that. You've got legs." Tim plops his sunglasses on her head and walks toward his truck with his tiny tag-along. "Your daddy says you have gymnastics."
"Can we do somethin' else?" Willa asks, her little voice thick with the same need to ignore rules as her father's.
"Whaddya wanna do instead?"
"Wellllll…"
"No. Your mama finds out and I'll end up on the couch for a week."
"You like the couch," Willa grumbles.
"Only when we stay up to watch old movies," he says scooping her up. "There's no reason for you to know what half that stuff is, Willa."
She wraps her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. She pointedly snuggles in. "It's how you keep me safe."
"You know you fight fuckin' dirty, kiddo. Learned that from your daddy," Tim grumbles as he lightly bumps her head with his.
"So we can go?"
"You were too tired for gymnastics and we got ice cream," Tim says, as if it's gospel.
"I'm so sleepy and hungry for ice cream!" Willa flops against his shoulder and yawns.
"That's my girl."
Tim peeks over the top of his book. Willa's lying on her stomach, marrying a triceratops to a transformer. That marriage is never going to last. They're just too different, but Tim lets it go.
"Tim?" Raylan's voice interrupts the nuptials.
"In Willa's room."
Tim's sprawled out on the excessive number of pillows and plush creatures Willa's piled high in the corner of her room. When Raylan's head pops in the doorway, he rolls his eyes at Tim before Willa almost bowls him over.
"Daddy!"
"Somebody missed gymnastics," Raylan says after he scoops her up.
"Damn. I keep doing that, and I'll never make it to State Finals and earn that shiny leotard," Tim complains and sets his book aside.
Raylan rolls his eyes."Winona pays for those lessons."
"She ain't got you on the hook for them. She's bad at this divorced thing."
Willa burrows her little nose into Raylan's collar and pleads, "I was tired, Daddy. And I don't like gymnastics."
"Honey, you're gonna have to talk to your mama about that. She thinks they're good for you," Raylan says into the mess of dark blonde hair. "So y'all came home and Willa took a nap?"
"We did stop for ice cream," Tim relents. "Kid deserves to do things she likes."
"Ice cream?" Raylan raises an eyebrow.
"With sprankles," Willa dutifully answers.
Raylan shakes his head.
That night, Tim walks out of the master bath ruffling his hair dry with a towel. An arm snatches him around the waist.
"Better be Raylan or at least someone as good lookin'."
"No substitute for the real thing," Raylan whispers against Tim's shoulder.
"Nah. I know what I got." Tim moves the towel to bury his nose in Raylan's hair.
"So do I," Raylan says far too sweetly. "What I don't know is where you took my kid."
"Funny how she's suddenly your kid when you're suspicious." Tim threads his fingers into Raylan's hair and gives a tug. "Or is this some kinda paranoia foreplay?"
Raylan huffs. "Fine, where did you and our girl go? 'Cause she caved that it was somethin' to do with you keepin' her safe."
"God, you can't trust a kindergartner to keep more than one secret a year."
"Not from her daddy," Raylan says nipping at Tim's shoulder.
"Lied to my daddy all the time," Tim says as he slips away to find his sweats. "Practically an expert at it by her age."
"Tim, baby, nothin' about you is normal. And you're dodgin' the question."
Tim steps into his sweats. "I promise it was educational."
"Winona's gonna have a full-blown fit if you took Willa anywhere near a gun." Raylan pulls back the covers.
"What if they're behind a glass case?"
"Like sporting goods store glass or pawn shop glass?"
"I wouldn't take a kindergartner to a pawn shop. That's how you get a haunted doll."
"I… honey, please."
"I took her to the Military Museum. The one over by the Zoo?"
Raylan's face twitches into a perplexing shape. "You did? You okay with that? That didn't set anything off?"
Tim sighs. "A little indigestion and crawlin' skin, but it makes her feel safe. Sees all the things I did a kid would appreciate, ya know? Wear a uniform, stand out in the sun for hours, and all the shit you go through in Basic. Runnin' with eighty pounds of shit in a pack for miles. Wants me to take her on my run, 'cause she doesn't weigh half that. If I can do that, I can keep her safe."
"Ah. That's more real than—"
"Blowin' a guy's head off? I guess. Less traumatizin' for her to see repeatedly."
Raylan slides into bed and holds out an arm until Tim gives in. "And you were weird… weirder about this, because?"
"You'd ask if it'd messed me up and Winona would be pissed about gymnastics. It'd be back to me being a liability, a risk for her." Tim rests his cheek on Raylan's shoulder. "I did it for her. Was gonna catch shit when I didn't force her to do gymnastics anyway."
"'M sorry. Only risk she's got from hangin' around you is thinkin' it's okay to say 'fuck'," Raylan kisses Tim's damp curls. "Only one problem."
Tim flinches. "Yeah."
"You got ice cream without me."
"Asshole."
"You love it," Raylan says through a small smile. "And our girl."