“Nobody’s taking me anywhere, sweetheart. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
But his eyes were already calculating exits. Watching the officers’ hands.
The lead officer approached slowly. “Sir, we’ve received some concerns—”
“I have legal documentation,” Bear interrupted, reaching carefully for his wallet, moving slow so nobody got nervous. He pulled out a laminated court document and handed it over.
What that document said would explain why this dangerous-looking biker and this innocent little girl met at McDonald’s every single Saturday without fail, why she called him Uncle Bear despite sharing no blood, and why he’d die before letting anyone stop these meetings…
The officer read the document. His expression changed. He looked at Bear, then at Lily, then back at the paper.
“You’re her father’s brother from the Marines?”
Bear nodded. “We served three tours together in Afghanistan. He saved my life twice. I saved his once. When he was dying, I made him a promise.”
The manager had crept closer, trying to hear. Other customers pretended to eat while obviously listening.
“Her father was killed in action?” the officer asked softly.
Lily was coloring on her placemat, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear the adults talking about her daddy. But her little shoulders were tense.
“Her father – my brother in everything but blood – came home broken,” Bear continued. “PTSD. Traumatic brain injury from an IED. He tried to fight it for three years. His wife left, couldn’t handle the nightmares, the anger. Took Lily. He spiraled hard.”
The officer was still reading. “This says he’s in federal prison.”
“Robbed a bank with an unloaded weapon. Wanted to get caught. Figured Lily was better off with him locked up than watching him fall apart. Fifteen-year sentence.” Bear’s voice cracked slightly. “Before they took him, he begged me to make sure Lily knew she was loved. That her daddy didn’t abandon her.”
“And the mother?” the officer asked.
“New husband doesn’t like reminders of her past. They moved here to get away from the military community, from anyone who knew them before. But the court gave me visitation rights. Two hours, every Saturday. McDonald’s was the only public place she’d agree to.”
One of the customers, an older woman who’d complained about Bear just last week, covered her mouth with her hand.
“Every week, I tell her stories about her dad from before he got hurt,” Bear said. “Show her pictures of him as a hero, not as the broken man her mother wants her to forget. I’m the only link she has to who her father really was.”
Lily looked up from her coloring. “Uncle Bear was there when I was born. Daddy said he cried like a baby.”
“Did not,” Bear protested with fake gruffness. “Had something in my eye.”
“You cried,” she insisted, smiling now. “Daddy said you held me first while he held Mommy’s hand. Said you promised to always protect me.”
Continue reading…
