Chapter 12 #2
It mattered more than I knew how to explain.
Remedy’s gentleness had never felt fragile or uncertain.
It came from strength so controlled that he could kneel beside frightened people without making them feel small, hold his daughter without ever confusing protection with possession, and touch me as though my comfort mattered more than satisfying his own desire.
The Order had taught me to associate power with fear.
Remedy carried enough physical strength to intimidate almost anyone, yet every time he used it, the result was safety.
“He asked,” I said quietly. “Before he kissed me.”
Daisy’s expression warmed. “Of course he did.”
“I know that sounds small.”
“It doesn’t.”
“He always gives me a choice.”
“That’s who he is.”
I stared into my coffee while rain traced shifting patterns down the window over the sink. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Neither does he.”
I looked up.
Daisy shrugged. “Remedy knows how to handle an emergency, organize a medical clinic, and keep thirty people calm while the world falls apart. Ask him what to do when a woman he cares about kisses him, and he’ll probably alphabetize the bandages.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“He went to work before sunrise.”
“Exactly.”
“I thought he was avoiding me.”
“He was avoiding himself.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
“It feels different when you’ve known him longer.”
I wrapped both hands around the mug, allowing its warmth to soak into my fingers. “We talked at dinner.”
“I noticed.”
“Everyone noticed.”
“Also true.”
“We agreed to move carefully because of Charlie.”
Daisy’s smile faded into something more thoughtful. “That’s wise.”
“She’s already attached.”
“She is.”
“So am I.”
The confession left me exposed in a way the earlier admission about the kiss had not.
Caring for Charlie had happened without effort.
I had begun loving her somewhere between sleepy mornings, pancake batter, bedtime stories, and tiny hands slipping into mine as though they belonged there.
The feeling carried none of the uncertainty surrounding Remedy.
It was simple, protective, and immediate, which made the possibility of hurting her almost unbearable.
Daisy seemed to understand.
“You don’t have to promise her forever today,” she said. “Children don’t need adults to predict the future. They need us to be honest about the present.”
“What if the present changes?”
“It will. Everything does.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
“No, but it’s true.” She moved around the island and stood beside me.
“You can’t protect Charlie by refusing to love her, and Remedy can’t protect her by refusing to let anyone close.
All either of you can do is move carefully, tell the truth, and make sure she never believes anything that happens is her fault. ”
I swallowed. “He’s afraid too.”
“I know.”
“He admitted it.”
“That’s a bigger thing than the kiss.”
I understood what she meant. Remedy had spent years becoming the person everyone relied upon.
Fear was something he identified in others, not something he offered freely from himself.
When he admitted he was afraid of wanting this, he had trusted me with a part of himself he usually buried beneath responsibility.
“That scared me more,” I confessed.
“Why?”
“Because it made everything real.”
Daisy touched my arm lightly. “Real doesn’t have to mean doomed.”
The old instinct inside me wanted to argue.
Real things had always been the easiest to lose.
Dreams could remain untouched by consequences, but the moment hope became tangible, it also became vulnerable.
Yet standing in the warm kitchen with cinnamon filling the air and rain tapping safely against the windows, I could no longer pretend fear had protected me from grief.
It had only protected me from living fully enough to create anything worth grieving.
The back door opened before I could answer.
Cold damp air swept into the kitchen along with Remedy and Charlie, both wearing rain jackets and carrying far more energy than the hour deserved.
Charlie’s pink boots were already muddy despite the short walk from the truck, Mr. Pickles wore a tiny yellow scarf tied around his neck, and Remedy’s dark hair looked slightly damp beneath the hood he pushed back as he closed the door behind them.
Charlie spotted me immediately.
“My Sunshine!”
The joy in her voice moved through me before she did. She ran across the kitchen and launched herself into my arms with enough force to make me step backward, then wrapped herself around my waist while continuing to talk without pausing for breath.
“You came. I told Daddy you would, but he said we hafta wait and see because promises don’t make clocks go faster, and I said maybe they do if you ask the clock nicely, but he didn’t ask it.”
I looked over her head toward Remedy.
His blue eyes met mine, and everything inside me became suddenly aware of the kiss we had not discussed since the previous night.
He looked tired, though not as exhausted as usual, wearing jeans, boots, and a gray Henley beneath his leather cut.
Rain darkened the shoulders, and one damp strand of hair had fallen across his forehead.
I remembered his hand against my cheek and had to force myself not to touch my mouth again.
“Morning,” he said.
“Good morning.”
The words were ordinary.
The way he looked at me was not.
Charlie tightened her arms around my waist. “You promised.”
“I did.”
“You kept it.”
The unquestioning satisfaction in her voice caught somewhere deep inside me. To Charlie, a promise kept did not require celebration. It simply confirmed what she already expected from people she loved.
“I told you I would.”
“I know.”
She released me only long enough to take my hand and pull me toward the stove.
“Daddy’s making pancakes.”
Remedy hung his jacket beside the door. “That accusation hasn’t been proven.”
“There’s batter.”
“Daisy made the batter.”
“You’re doing the cooking.”
“I was ambushed.”
Daisy folded her arms. “You volunteered yesterday.”
“Under emotional duress.”
Charlie gasped. “You said you could make French toast.”
“I can.”
“Then why pancakes?”
“Because somebody changed the menu.”
She looked entirely unapologetic. “Pancake needed pancakes.”
Mr. Pickles bounced beneath her arm as if agreeing.
I laughed, and Remedy’s gaze returned to me immediately. The expression that crossed his face was subtle, little more than a softening around his eyes, yet I remembered him admitting he had begun looking forward to my laughter. The awareness made the sound falter before he smiled.
“There it is,” he said.
“What?”
“The laugh.”
Heat touched my cheeks. Daisy suddenly became very interested in the oven.
Charlie looked between us. “What laugh?”
“Sunshine’s,” Remedy answered.
“She has lots.”
“I know.”
The quiet way he said it made my heart stumble.
Charlie accepted the explanation before climbing onto her stool beside the counter. “Daddy remembered breakfast.”
“I remember breakfast regularly.”
“No, you don’t.”
Daisy nodded. “She has evidence.”
“I’m surrounded by critics.”
I moved toward the cabinet and pulled down mugs, choosing one for Remedy without thinking. One splash of cream, no sugar. The familiarity of the routine no longer surprised me. I placed it beside the stove while he heated the griddle, and his hand paused around the spatula.
“You remembered.”
“I notice things.”
“I’ve noticed.”
The same exchange had passed between us before, but now the words carried everything we had admitted at dinner. He picked up the mug and took a drink, never looking away from me.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Charlie leaned over the counter until Daisy caught the back of her overalls.
“You’re staring.”
Remedy nearly choked on his coffee.
“At the pancakes,” I said.
“There aren’t any yet.”
Daisy turned away, but her shoulders shook with silent laughter.
Remedy recovered enough to point the spatula toward his daughter. “You’re supposed to be supervising the batter.”
“I can do both.”
“I believe that’s called interfering.”
“It’s called helping.”
“Same thing when you’re three.”
Charlie ignored him and began stirring with fierce concentration. Flour puffed over the rim of the bowl within seconds, dusting her curls and the front of her raincoat. Remedy reached over to brush it from her nose, and she wrinkled her face before laughing.
Watching them together still affected me in ways I did not entirely understand.
Their love was loud, patient, messy, and woven through every ordinary movement.
Remedy never treated caring for Charlie as a burden, even when exhaustion shadowed his face and work waited beyond the kitchen door.
He answered every question, admired every imaginary creature, and corrected her without diminishing the confidence he had worked so hard to build.
Charlie trusted him completely because he had spent every day proving she could.
I had never known a father like him.
Perhaps that was why wanting him felt so much larger than wanting a man.
It meant stepping closer to everything he had built around his daughter, and the possibility was both beautiful and terrifying.
Remedy poured the first pancake onto the griddle.
Charlie watched with narrowed eyes.
“That’s not a dinosaur.”
“It hasn’t finished becoming one.”
“It’s round.”
“Dinosaurs begin as eggs.”
She considered the argument. “That’s smart.”
“I have my moments.”
The pancake spread into an unmistakable circle.
Charlie looked at me. “He needs help.”
“I think he’s doing fine.”
“You hafta be honest.”
Remedy raised an eyebrow. “Careful.”
I moved beside him and studied the griddle with exaggerated seriousness. “I believe that could become a dinosaur if we use enough imagination.”
“Betrayal,” Charlie whispered.
Daisy laughed openly now.
Remedy leaned closer without touching me, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “You promised to come for me too.”
My breath caught.
“I did.”
“I’m glad.”