Chapter 31 #2
Riley shifts between us as sips the last bit of her cocoa, before placing it on the coffee table.
She doesn’t say anything—just moves, licks her chocolate mouth, and wiggles her little body into the space between me and Vivian.
It’s the most natural thing in the world, and when she settles there, her small frame leaning into both of us, it feels like exactly what’s supposed to happen.
Riley rests her head against my arm, then slips her hand into Vivian’s.
She’s already starting to relax, her breathing slowing as she gets comfortable, that little hand of hers like a lifeline
I glance at Vivian, and for a second, neither of us say anything. We just look at each other. It’s soft, easy, the kind of quiet that speaks volumes.
I shift a little, careful not to disturb Riley, but when I look at Vivian again, her smile’s still there, small but warm.
She’s not looking at me like it’s casual anymore.
It’s different. More meaningful. Something shifts between us in that moment, and I feel it, an undercurrent of something deeper.
My chest tightens, just a little, like something new has settled in me, something I’m suddenly aware of.
Riley lets out a tiny sigh, already drifting, her small hand wrapped around Vivian’s. Then her other little hand reaches for mine. The size difference is almost ridiculous—sweet and painfully innocent. I curl my fingers around hers, slow and gentle, locking her tiny hand inside my own.
The TV’s still playing in the background, some kind of spy kids movie that’s barely holding my attention but right now, it doesn’t matter. The comfort of being here, with them, takes over. I try a sip of my cocoa, and the sweetness of it hits me in the chest, warm and familiar.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice low. “This is…perfect.”
Her eyes flicker up to mine, and she gives a small nod. There’s something quiet and understanding in her gaze, like she’s reading me. I almost wish I could reach across the space between us, but I don’t. Not yet.
Instead, we just sit there, the thunder rumbling in the distance and the lightning coming through
“Miles, can you tell me a story please,” Riley asks, her voice small but hopeful, eyes blinking up at me as she shifts to settle farther into the blankets.
I clear my throat quietly, my voice soft but steady. “All right, kiddo, I’ve got a story for you.” I adjust my position so I’m facing her, giving her my full attention. “This one’s about the God of Thunder,” I begin, watching her eyes widen with curiosity.
“A long, long time ago, there was a mighty god named Thor. He was the protector of the skies, the one who controlled…thunder.”
Riley’s eyes brighten at the mention of a god, and I see her lean in just a little, her tiny hands clasped under her chin. She’s listening, and I can tell that something about this feels comforting to her.
So much for her drifting off. Pretty sure this story has completely changed her mind about sleeping, but I’m not complaining. Not when I’ve got both of their sweet faces turned toward me, watching me like I hung the moon just for them.
“Thor had a mighty hammer, big enough to split mountains,” I continue, raising my hands to show just how large it was.
“But the thing about Thor was, even though he could create storms and thunder with the strike of his hammer, he didn’t do it to scare people.
He did it to protect them. The thunder wasn’t a sign of danger, it was a sign that Thor was watching over them, keeping them safe from anything that might try to harm them. ”
Her eyes are wide, her gaze never leaving me. “Thor kept everyone safe?” she asks, her voice filled with wonder.
“Yep.” I nod. “Every time the thunder rolled, it was Thor reminding everyone he was up there, watching out for them. The louder the thunder, the stronger his protection.”
I see her relax a little, her small shoulders easing just slightly as she takes in the story.
“Sometimes, when the storm gets really loud,” I add quietly. “It’s like Thor’s hammer is giving a big thwack to scare off the bad things. And when the lightning flashes, it’s like Thor’s showing us the way, guiding us with his hammer.”
Her little face lights up as she seems to process it, her fingers gripping my hand as she snuggles deeper into the blankets. “So, it’s not scary?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
“Not at all, Wild Child,” I say, my voice gentle.
I glance at Vivian, who’s watching us with that soft smile of hers. The moment feels easy, like something simple but meaningful is settling into place between us. I return my attention to Riley, her eyes heavy with the weight of sleep but still full of curiosity.
“Can I hear more?” she asks quietly, her eyelids fluttering as sleep starts to tug at her.
I chuckle softly. “I’ll tell you more another night.”
She pouts, so I try something else.
“How about we make it a game?” I ask, leaning down a little closer to her. “We’ll count the thunder. You know how we can tell how far away the storm is?”
Riley tilts her head slightly, clearly interested, but still unsure. “How do we do that?”
I give her a reassuring smile. “Okay, so, when we hear the thunder, we start counting. The longer the pause between the thunder and the lightning, the farther away it is. The shorter the pause, the closer it is. We’re gonna figure out exactly how far away Thor is.”
Her eyes light up a little, the idea sparking some curiosity. “We’re gonna count?” she asks, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
“Yep,” I say, sitting back a little to make sure she can see me. “Every time we hear the thunder, we count. And if we get to ten seconds, we know Thor’s far away and he’s not as close to us.”
Vivian, watching us both, smiles softly. “It’s a good way to know just how strong the storm is,” she adds. “You’ll be able to hear the thunder, but you’ll know exactly where it is.”
Riley looks at us both, then at the window, her little brow furrowed. I see the tiniest bit of her anxiety still there, but she’s intrigued now, ready to play along.
A low rumble of thunder sounds in the distance. I glance at Riley, my voice quiet but playful. “Okay, let’s start now. One…two…three…”
We count together. The seconds pass, and when there’s a noticeable gap between the thunder and the next strike, I feel Riley relax a little. She looks up at me with a shy smile.
“See?” I say gently. “It’s really far away. That means we’re safe.”
She nods, her little face calming as she watches the storm through the window. A small laugh escapes her. “Thor’s really far,” she says, her voice soft but full of wonder. “I think he’s protecting us.”
“Exactly,” I say, looking at Vivian. “He’s up there, making sure we’re okay.”
Riley leans a little closer to me, her tiny body pressed against mine as the storm continues outside. “That’s what Daddy does.”
Vivian and I both look at her now.
“He protects us too.”
A few more rumbles of thunder roll in, and Riley starts counting along with me, the quiet focus in her eyes helping her push through the noise of the storm. Each time the thunder rumbles, we count together, the moment growing easier.
After a while, Riley’s head begins to droop, her eyelids fluttering as the tension fades completely. I can feel her trust in the game, in me, and in Vivian, as the storm continues to fade into the background.
Twenty minutes pass, the storm outside raging on as the TV hums in the background, but all I can focus on is the weight and warmth of Riley against me and the way Vivian’s presence calms everything inside me.
Riley, now asleep, shifts a little more, this time curling up farther into my side. Her little face nuzzles against my arm.
My breath catches for a second. The way she’s trusting me—snuggling in without hesitation—hits me in a place I didn’t expect. This little girl, who has only known me for such a short time, is showing me a trust that feels…profound. I glance down at her and then back at Vivian.
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s an unspoken understanding between us.
Something in the way Vivian looks at me now tells me she sees it too. She sees how Riley’s settled in, how she’s started to trust me, and something shifts between us. It’s quiet. Slow. And it makes my chest tighten in the best way.
The storm can keep raging outside. Inside, we’re safe. We’re here.
I watch Riley’s steady breathing for a moment, still tucked between us, her little hand still holding mine. It’s as if the whole world has quieted down, as if we’re in our own little space, wrapped up in this warm, comforting bubble.
I turn to Vivian, my voice soft as I whisper, “Should we take her to bed?”
She smiles gently, a soft, almost knowing expression on her face as she runs her fingers through Riley’s hair.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, a smile tugging at her lips as she carefully shifts to stand. “I’ve got her. Don’t worry.” I stand to help, but she waves me off, shaking her head. “I’ve got her. It’s okay.”
I don’t push, though the urge is there. She’s more than capable, she’s done this countless times without me around, but something in me wants to help. Wants to make sure they’re okay. Still, I follow her quietly as she carefully picks Riley up, making sure she doesn’t miss a step on the stairs.
The thunder has settled, but the rain continues its steady drum against the windows. It’s calming. Gentle. But I can’t help but focus on the way Vivian moves, the quiet strength she carries as she walks ahead of me, her hand gently cradling Riley.
We reach Riley’s room, and I help with the small things, switching on the soft night light that flickers a calming glow across the room, setting the atmosphere for sleep.
My eyes catch on something on the bedside table.
It’s Vivian’s necklace. I reach out, my fingers brushing against it, and it hits me—a moment of understanding.