Chapter Thirty Two #2
My heart skips a beat and it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if she’s talking about Georgia, but I leave it be for now, my brain already too messy to interpret a damn thing.
Ethel grabs her cane and walks slowly toward the door. I follow, heart aching, arms already itching to hold Aurora again. To pick up the phone and beg Georgia to leave work early and come be with us—to hold those pieces she promised she’d carry for me.
When the screen door creaks open, she looks back once more.
“You let me know when you're ready to file. And if you need anything—anything at all—reach out. If I don’t hear from you in a week, expect my call.”
“I will,” I promise, voice gravelly.
She nods and slips out into the spring sunlight.
Ethel’s SUV disappears down the long drive, kicking up dust in the distance. I shut the front door slowly, the latch clicking louder than it should in the quiet. My body feels too big in the silence she leaves behind, the weight of everything she just told me pressing hard on my chest.
After a few long, deep breaths, I turn around, and there she is.
Aurora .
Unable to help myself, I close the distance between us in a few short strides, but slow my pace when I near her, the shit Ethel told me battering against my senses.
She blinks up at me with those puppy-dog eyes, and for the first time, I notice the way she holds her little body tight, like she doesn’t know what to make of me.
And I can’t help but wonder if she thinks I’ll hurt her like her piece of shit dad did.
After stepping into the pen, I drop down to a crouch across from her, arms on my knees, making myself as small as fuckin’ possible.
Part of me wants to make promises—to bear my soul and erase all the shit she’s been through with my words alone, but I’m not stupid.
I know nothing will rewrite this little girl’s history. All I can do is draw out a better future and hold her hand while she lives it.
“Uh… hey,” I murmur, dropping to my ass slowly, leaving a few feet between us. “Remember me? I’m Kade.”
She freezes mid-gnaw, tilting her head just slightly and stares at me.
“So, Ethel said you already ate. That’s cool.
Great. Less pressure right off the bat.” My eyes flick to the island where I set out all the formula and baby snacks the foster’s sent over.
“They gave me a schedule for you, but all the shi—” Groaning, I bite the inside of my cheek and look back at her.
“Crap I read online said you’ll probably rebel the fu—”
I smack a hand to my mouth and mutter a nearly silent string of curses. This is ridiculous.
Aurora knocks the teether against the floor, then back to her mouth it goes. All the while, she stares at me like she’s judging my entire existence.
“Not very helpful,” I whisper, running a hand through my beard. “I don’t know what I expected. Like you’d be able to tell me what’s next? Nap? A diaper? Favorite activities?”
She shrieks and flings the rubber teether at my face.
Jolting, I gape down at her and rub the ache from my jaw.
“You’ve got a hell of a hand on ya, sweetheart.” I chuckle, handing her back the projectile. “Aim’s spot on, too.”
Aurora giggles, kicks her feet, and shoves herself forward onto her hands and knees, and then this sweet girl… this brilliant, tiny little survivor, crawls to me.
My heart damn near stops, breath stalling in my lungs.
The nurses weren’t sure if she was crawling or toddling yet.
Whole time in the hospital, she never tried to talk or do any of the other things she could be doing at her age—or at least attempting.
They did make a list of the few things they noted, a list I added to my phone so I could keep track eventually.
But they didn’t know about the crawling… and I…
Christ, I wasn’t ready for what the tiny little milestone would do to my heart.
Once she reaches me, she wastes no time climbing into my lap, and again, the organ in my chest finds a way to grow and shift, all from one beat to the next.
Aurora blinks up at me with sleepy eyes, and I waste no time cuddling her against my chest, abs already burning from the angle. When she settles into me, thumb between her lips and pinky wrapped around a chunk of my beard, I decide I don’t care.
“I’m here,” I coo, rubbing her back, eyes burning, mind a fuckin’ disaster zone. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
After a while, Aurora passes out, and I carefully climb from the pen, dropping onto the couch. If she wants to nap on my chest, I’ll let her.
How could Marlee let this happen?
She’d been through so much. Her mom was an addict, in and out of jail her whole childhood.
No father around. And when her mother died, she got dumped with a grandmother who barely tolerated her.
Marlee grew up angry, desperate for attention, desperate for love.
I knew that. I saw it. Hell, I lived pieces of it with her.
So how the hell did she end up with a man like Travis Vernal?
How could she let this baby—this perfect little girl—get hurt?
My gaze drops to Aurora’s chubby arm, bare and soft. Her tiny overalls are light pink, the white onesie underneath already rumpled. And just above her elbow, on the inside, is a small, faint scar. I thought it was from the accident.
Now… I don’t know.
My stomach turns.
Did Marlee do it? Did she watch it happen? Was she too scared to stop it? Or worse… did she just not care? Maybe she was too drunk or high to give a shit. Maybe she was just as much a victim as her daughter.
Either way, it doesn’t stop the violent rage pelting my system.
I’m desperate for a bottle of whiskey right now, but the judge said I’m banned from a good buzz and now that I have Aurora, drinking feels wrong. Never been one for drugs or beating the shit out of random, swinging objects to get my head right.
For a while after the military, I spent my days drunk—and weekends drunker.
I’d find some random woman in Wildwood or Langley to fuck the pain away with.
It’s been more than a year since I was that low, and I’m not proud of using it to cope, but it worked.
The thought of doing it now has nausea clawing through me.
Only thing that feels like it would help at all right now isn’t a shot of whiskey—but a shot of Georgia.
If I close my eyes, I can practically feel the way her laugh rolls over my too-tight skin. The way it burns and wakes me up like nothing else can. The husky sound of her voice—a mixture of faded and blended accents I can never make out but find endearing and adorable.
I’ve never found anything endearing in my life, but here I am, missing the cadence of her syllables the way addicts miss their favorite fix.
With the baby on my chest, I don’t dare let myself think about all the other shit I miss—all the other ways I could lose my mind and fix my ragged emotions while lost in Georgia, but it’s there—an ache in my soul.
Glancing at the island, I catch sight of my phone and contemplate grabbing it to call her.
I haven’t heard from her all day. Didn’t want to bug her while she was at work, so I kept busy.
Cleaned. Organized. Prepped everything I could for Aurora’s arrival.
I didn’t even know she was coming today.
Thought for sure it’d be tomorrow. But then the doorbell rang, and there she was.
Ethel holding the car seat, Aurora looking up at me with wide, glassy eyes and a tiny, perfect smile, like she really remembered me. Like she’d been waiting, too. The hours since passed in a whirlwind.
I want to tell Georgia what happened. Wanna talk about Marlee. About the crash. About everything that’s ripping my goddamn heart open right now.
I want to lay every shattered piece of me down at her feet, just like she begged me to.
But what if it scares her off?
What if I’m too much?
I’m still spiraling when the front door bursts open, and my mom’s voice floods the house.
“Was that Ethel’s SUV I saw pulling away? Why was she— Oh my God ! Is that my grandbaby!?”
“Ma!” I whisper-hiss, hiking Aurora higher on my shoulder while bouncing her softly. “She’s asleep!”
A second later, two familiar voices echo through the room.
“Look, man, I know you told us to stay away so you could be alone with your sweet, freckled Georgia Peach, but I’m leaving in a few days, and I miss your stupid face,” Wilder grumbles, followed by a thump as he comes to an abrupt halt.
Griffin crashes into his back, both of them staring down at me, eyes wide.
“Holy shit,” Griff breathes. “Is that—”
“Mom? Are you here?” Clementine calls from the hallway. “Colby and I want to—”
“Holy shitballs!” Colby screams, cutting her off. “She’s here!”
My mom whips around, hands on her hips and quietly snaps, “She’s asleep!”
And then they’re all silently barreling toward me, wordlessly crying, cooing, and prancing around like a herd of wild birds.
My too-quiet, too-heavy house is suddenly alive with joy, excitement, and so much fucking love I can barely breathe.
Aurora blinks her eyes open like she can sense all the eyes on her and wiggles around, fist tightening in my beard, and I hold her closer, kissing the top of her head.
I’m not alone.
Not anymore.
I’ve got a baby in my lap, a family at my back, and a future that terrifies the hell out of me—but I’ll fight for it with everything I’ve got.