Ethel sighs, her voice softer now. “I know this is a lot to process. But it also explains a lot about why Aurora struggles with certain things. Why she reacts the way she does to loudnoises or sudden movements. Why she clings to you the way she does.”
My knees nearly buckle. But I don’t fall. Not with her watching. Not with Aurora watching.
“She won’t have to be afraid anymore,” I say, voice ragged. “Not for a single fucking second. Not with me.”
Ethel nods slowly. “I believe you. And I think she does, too.”
I drag a hand over my face and glance again toward my little girl. And she ismine. Knew it from the second I met her. Maybe it wasn’t like this… this dire need inside me, something almost vicious, to protect and cherish her, but it was solid.
Now… now it’s sure and final.
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I whisper. “To keep her safe. To give her a new life.”
Ethel stands and pulls me into a hug that smells like lavender and strong coffee. “You're not alone, Kade. Not in this. You have a community around you.” She pulls back, giving me a meaningful look. “Don’t be afraid to lean on those who want to stand by your side. No matter how they came to you.”
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.
