Tonight, when I saw that fire, when I realized how fast it was moving, how bad it could’ve gotten, I couldn’t think past them. Yeah, my mom, my sisters, my friends—they were at the top of the list.
But Georgia and Aurora?
Theywerethe list.
I fought harder, ran faster, because the thought of losing either of them made my whole damn chest cave in. It scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Still can’t.
I run a hand through my beard, shake my head, try to pull myself together. I’m in. I’m all the way the fuck in. And it scares me half to death.
But I’ve never wanted anything more.
Like she can hear my thoughts, Georgia’s eyes find mine.
And those big eyes—all rolling green hills and emeralds dancing in the sun—immediately turn glassy. Her mouth parts, and she pushes to her feet like she’s been waiting for this exact second, like her body needs to get to mine.
The bottle slips from her hand, clattering onto the table and Aurora makes a whimpering sound that stabs me in the gut.
I’m coming, baby, I think, not even sure if I mean Georgia or the both of them.
Probably both.
I push off the doorframe and start toward them, the noise of the room dimming until all I can hear is the pounding of my heart, and the tiny, perfect breaths of the girl in her arms.
We collide.
My arms wrap around both of them. Georgia sniffles. Aurora fusses. And my heart? It tumbles right out of my chest and explodes in their laps like it’s been waiting for this moment to be claimed.
“I was so worried,” Georgia whispers, pressing frantic kisses to my jaw, one after the other like she can’t get close enough. “I thought—”
“I know,” I rasp, cutting her off. I lean back just enough to look at them—really see them—and Aurora’s already staring up at me with those big brown eyes like I hung the damn moon. “Hi, baby girl.”
She babbles something incoherent, squeals, then screeches in the way only babies can get away with. Her chubby hands shoot up toward me, desperate to be held.
Georgia chokes out a sound that’s part sob, part laugh. “God, that’s adorable. She already loves you, Kade. We—”
Her voice cracks, and she shakes her head, lips parting like she might finish the thought, but doesn’t. I watch the long line of her throat move as she swallows.
What were you gonna say, darlin’? We what?
Instead, I say the only thing I know to be true.
“Feeling’s mutual,” I murmur, my voice rough with ash and emotion and too many sleepless nights as I hold her gaze.
Georgia gasps, eyes widening before she blinks and shakes her head like she’s reading too much into my double-meaning.
She’s not.
Aurora bats at my beard with a frustrated line of incoherent babbles I assume means she's cussing me out and I chuckle, stepping back, tension broken.
“I need to go home and shower. Don’t wanna get either of you covered in soot.”
She nods, her hand rubbing slow circles on Aurora’s back. “You should eat something first.”
I jerk my chin at the full plate she left behind. “You didn’t eat.”
“I did,” she murmurs. “That one’s for you.”
