Page 64 of Wings
Just like my Wings.
Chapter 12
Wings
Thekitchencounterheldevidence of my pre-dawn mission—cutting board dusted with breadcrumbs, empty jam jar waiting for the trash, star-shaped cookie cutter I'd found buried in Kiara's baking drawer. I'd been up since five, moving through her apartment with the same careful precision I'd used on night ops. Except instead of rigging charges, I was cutting peanut butter sandwiches into butterfly shapes.
The picnic basket sat ready by the door, an old-fashioned wicker thing I'd spotted at a thrift shop and immediately known she'd love. Inside, everything arranged with tactical precision: butterfly sandwiches wrapped in parchment paper, juice boxes—apple and fruit punch because I couldn't remember which she'd reached for last time—string cheese in its own cooler pocket, and a white bakery box tied with ribbon.
The cookies from Sweet Dreams's had required a detour yesterday, timing it when I knew Cleo would be working. She'd raised an eyebrow at my order—snickerdoodles, the soft kindwith extra cinnamon sugar—but hadn't asked questions. Kiara thought I didn't notice her sneaking them during late-night shifts, leaving careful crumbs she'd sweep up later. Like I didn't catalog every detail about her, every preference and quirk.
Three days since she'd spotted Connor surveilling our supply run. Three nights of her tossing beside me, muscles tight even in sleep, little whimpers that had nothing to do with pleasure. Duke had the club on high alert, running extra patrols, varying routes and schedules. Necessary precautions that did nothing for the guilt eating at my girl.
She blamed herself. Kept apologizing for bringing the heat to us. As though any of this was her fault. No amount of reassurance seemed to penetrate—not Duke's approval, not Doc's gruff praise for her quick thinking, not my own repeated promises that she'd done everything right.
So I'd planned this. Pulled up maps last night while she colored at the clubhouse, searching for somewhere perfect. Somewhere far from Ironridge's industrial grit, from Serpents and supply runs and the weight she carried like armor.
Willow Creek Trail. Forty minutes northwest, tucked into the foothills where tourists rarely ventured. The website promised wildflower meadows and butterfly gardens, gentle streams and shaded groves. Isolated enough for privacy, beautiful enough to make her forget everything but the moment.
My phone weather app confirmed what I'd hoped—sunny, high of seventy-five, light breeze. Perfect for the breezy sundress I'd laid across her chair.
Her bedroom door creaked softly as I pushed it open. Morning light filtered through the gauze curtains, painting everything in soft focus. She lay curled on her side, one hand tucked under her pillow, the other clutching Mr. Butterscotch, the golden monkey stuffie she loved so much. Dark hair spread across the pillowcase in waves that begged for my fingers.
Beautiful. Mine.
I moved to the bed, sitting carefully on the edge. She didn't stir, too deep in whatever dream she was in. Her brow furrowed slightly, some worry following her even into sleep.
Not today. Today was about joy, about reminding her that life held more than threats and fear. Today she got to be little, be free, be mine to spoil and protect.
I leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to her forehead. Her skin warm, smelling like the lavender lotion she used before bed. "Wake up, baby girl," I whispered against her temple. "Daddy has a surprise for you."
She stirred, a small sound in her throat that went straight to my chest. Those green eyes blinked open slowly, unfocused and confused. "Wings?"
"Morning, angel." I smoothed hair back from her face, watching awareness creep in. "Sleep good?"
"Mm." She stretched, catlike and languid, then froze. "What time is it? Do I have to work? I didn't—"
"Shh." I pressed a finger to her lips. "No work today, remember? It’s your day off."
Her eyes widened. "Oh good."
"Your Daddy urgently needs to take you on an adventure."
"Adventure?" She sat up, sheet pooling at her waist, my old Army shirt hanging off one shoulder. "What kind of adventure?"
I reached behind me, holding up the sundress. The morning light caught the yellow fabric, made the daisies seem to dance. "The kind that requires this."
Her intake of breath was pure delight. "My favorite dress." Her fingers reached out, tracing one embroidered daisy. "Where are we going?"
"That's the surprise part." I stood, laying the dress across her lap. "But I can tell you it involves butterflies, a picnic, andabsolutely no Serpents, supply runs, or anything that isn't about making my baby girl happy."
Tears gathered in her eyes, just enough to make them shine. "Gabe . . ."
"No crying." I caught her chin, tilting her face up. "Today's about smiles. Think you can give Daddy smiles?"
She nodded quickly, already sliding out of bed. "I can do smiles. So many smiles. All the smiles you want."
"That's my good girl." I headed for the door, pausing to look back. "Fifteen minutes. Dress, sandals, and grab a hair tie. I'll be in the kitchen."
