The Biker Who Became Her Angel

I was halfway through the book when she interrupted me. “Mr. Mike?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you have any kids?”

The question hit me hard. “I had a daughter. She passed away when she was sixteen. Car accident. That was twenty years ago.”

Amara was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “Do you miss being a daddy?”

My throat tightened. “Every single day, honey.”

“My daddy left before I was born,” she said matter-of-factly. “And my mama brought me here and never came back. The nurses say she’s not coming back ever.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. What do you say to a seven-year-old who’s been abandoned while dying?

Amara kept talking. “The social worker lady said I’m going to go live with a foster family when I get better. But I heard the doctors talking. They don’t think I’m getting better.”

“Sweetheart—”