21. Riley
21
RILEY
L aughter peels through the air—familiar laughter, so pure and joyful that it tugs at my heart. With quick steps, I follow the sound of my daughter’s laughter through the house.
I find her in the living room, and I freeze in the doorway, my eyes raking over her long, dark hair and delicate features. She looks exactly as I remember from the last time I saw her.
She’s playing on the soft rug, her tiny hands gripping a toy as she runs around in circles, her pigtails bouncing with each step. Sunlight streams through the windows, glinting off her hair and highlighting her auburn strands. Mesmerized, I can’t take my eyes off her. I memorize that smile. The sparkle in her hazel eyes. God, she looks so happy. This is how I always want her to be. Safe. Carefree. Untroubled.
Logan is sprawled on the floor beside her, making exaggerated faces as he pretends to be a monster. “Roar! I’m gonna get you, Aurora!” he growls playfully, crawling toward her. She squeals in delight, darting away only to circle back and touch his nose with a giggle.
Royce is on the couch, his usually stern face softened with a rare smile as he watches my little girl playing with Logan. “Daddy!” Aurora squeals, Logan chasing her. “Save me!” Her little legs race toward Royce, who holds out his arms, and she runs into them without a second thought before he lifts her onto his lap.
He holds her close like she’s something precious, and the look on his face—on all their faces is one of pure love, unwavering affection. “Daddy,” Aurora says again, and my heart clenches at hearing her say that word. At her calling my men that. Her eyes are heavy now as she snuggles closer to Royce. “Tell me a story.”
Logan drops onto the sofa beside them, and Aurora shuffles over so she’s nestled between them. She’s blinking furiously, fighting sleep as Logan weaves a tale about brave knights and dragons.
Grayson’s in the kitchen, but he’s not far from us. He keeps glancing over, his eyes filled with love and contentment. Occasionally, he joins in the fun, tossing out comments or laughing at Royce’s ridiculous story.
He finishes whatever he’s doing in the kitchen and walks over, carrying a plate of freshly baked cookies. “Who wants a treat?” he calls, and Aurora’s eyes light up, any notion of sleep forgotten as she scrambles off the sofa and rushes to Grayson.
“Me! Me!” she chants, bouncing on her feet as she reaches up with eager hands.
Grayson hands her a cookie, and she takes a big bite, her face lighting up with pure joy. “Ah-ah,” he chastises with a smile when she goes to snag a second one. “I think we should see if Mommy wants one first.”
Aurora nods, whirling on the spot to search for me. Spotting me in the doorway, she gives me a gap-toothed grin. “Mommy! Daddy made cookies!”
Grayson is already crossing the room toward me. He holds out the plate, offering me a cookie. I take it, our fingers brushing, and I feel a spark of something more profound. Something that grounds me in this moment and has me praying it never ends.
Aurora grabs my hand, dragging me to the sofa, and Logan and Royce make room for me between them. Royce clasps my hand, and Logan kisses my cheek as the three of them settle around me, their presence a protective barrier against any harm. Grayson moves to sit on the floor at my feet while Aurora dances on the rug before us, the very picture of happiness and innocence.
Tears sting my eyes as I savor this impossible moment of peace and happiness, knowing that when I wake, this is what I’ll fight for.
My daughter.
My family.
Our happiness.
This is my sanctuary, my hope, and I’ll do anything to make it our reality.