Whitney didn’t know why she’d even bothered asking. Amelia never said anything different. But a mom could dream.

They hit the edge of the playground when Amelia stopped abruptly, her face stern.

“My swing,” she said under her breath, pointing.

Following her gaze, Whitney saw a little boy around Amelia’s same age sitting on the swing she usually occupied, spinning around in circles, the metal chain coiling around him. A little girl was being pushed by her mom on the neighboring swing.

“That’s all right,” Whitney said in a singsong, overly cheery voice. “We’ll just go on the slide until they’re finished. That will be fun, right?”

“No.” Amelia stepped forward, stomping over the bark in her pink tennis shoes. “Mine,” she hollered at the boy, and before Whitney could stop her, she’d slammed her palms into his knees trying to shove him off the swing. He was so wrapped up in the swing, he barely moved. “Mine!” Amelia hollered again.

Whitney ran after her, grabbing her by the hand. “Amelia, stop it. You can’t behave that way.” If Whitney had acted like this at her age, she would’ve gotten a spanking. But Whitney couldn’t bring herself to spank Amelia. Time-outs were about as far as she went. Mostly she found that keeping Amelia close kept her out of trouble. Holding tightly to her hand, she led her to the slide.

“I don’t wanna slide. I want swings!” Amelia stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

Whitney lowered down onto her knees, looked her daughter in the eyes. “I know, honey, but someone else is on it right now, and we have to share.”

Amelia turned to look at the swing-stealing boy, throwing him her best evil face. Despite herself, Whitney’s lips twitched at the corners. It was hard for Amelia to grasp the concept of sharing since she didn’t have a sibling. Sometimes Whitney wondered if she and Dan should try again, but never brought it up. Their marriage was rocky enough. Another child wouldn’t fix it. Besides, Amelia was enough for her.

She was all Whitney needed.

Passing by the playground, Whitney scanned the large grassy area. Where would a teenage girl be? Her gaze connected with the bathrooms, and she walked toward them. Hushed voices reached her ears the closer she got.

“Amelia?” Whitney stopped abruptly before running right into a little boy with his mom. The mom’s forehead knit together as she drew her child closer to her body.

“Sorry,” Whitney mumbled. “I’m just looking for my daughter.”

“Oh.” The mom’s eyes widened, and she relaxed her grip on the boy. Her gaze darted around. “I haven’t seen anyone. Want me to help you look?”

Whitney shook her head, spotting a cluster of trees near the back of the park. Two teenagers barely visible behind it.