Page 80 of Wings
That last part slipped out, her eyes widening as she realized what she'd said. But she didn't take it back, just waited to see how I'd react to the assumption of permanence, of a future that went beyond contracts and collars.
"Someday," I agreed quietly, watching her melt with relief. "When you're ready. When we're ready. But yeah, baby girl. Someday."
She kissed me then, soft and sweet with an edge of desperation that tasted like promises. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet. "I love you so much."
"Love you too, angel." I shifted her back to cuddle position, needing her weight against me. "More than I have words for."
We sat quietly for a moment, her fingers returning to their button investigation while I played with one of her pigtails. The peace of it, the perfect domestic sweetness, made what came next feel like blasphemy.
My phone buzzed against my leg. Email notification, not text. I almost ignored it—nothing good came from email at this hour. But the subject line preview made my blood chill: "Remember This?"
I shifted Kiara slightly, angling the phone so she couldn't see the screen. Opened the email with careful fingers, already knowing it would be bad.
The photo loaded slowly. High school, some party I barely remembered. But the composition was burned into memory—me on one side, Alex on the other, Kiara between us looking young and uncomfortable while Alex's arm possessively circled her waist. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. My own face showed barely concealed frustration.
The message below was simple: "You always wanted what was mine. Blood means nothing to you."
Rage flooded my system, hot and immediate. Not at the accusation—Alex had always been dramatic about perceived slights. But at him using this photo, this moment, as ammunition. Kiara had been seventeen, trapped in a relationship that was already showing warning signs.
Now he threw it at me like evidence of betrayal. Like I'd planned this all along instead of staying away for years, keeping distance even when every instinct screamed to protect her.
"Daddy?" Kiara's voice pulled me back. "Your whole body just went tight. What's wrong?"
"Another email from Alex," I said. Some might say I should keep the truth from her to protect her, but that just wasn’t me. I could never lie to my Baby Girl.
“Something bad?”
“No. It’s nothing really. Just him being a shithead. You don’t need to worry, I’m gonna fix it all.”
“Okay, Daddy. I trust you.”
She squeezed my hand.
It was an incredibly beautiful moment. Her trust in me was humbling.
“So,” I said, hoping to redirect us both, "what time do you work tomorrow?"
"Day shift. Seven to seven." She yawned against my chest. "Which means bedtime soon."
"Which means bedtimenow," I corrected. "It's already past nine."
"But I'm not tired," she protested even as another yawn escaped. "And we're celebrating. And I haven't finished my coloring."
"Coloring will be there tomorrow." I stood, lifting her with me. She squeaked but wrapped her legs around my waist, clinging like a koala. "Bed now, celebration planning tomorrow."
"Bossy Daddy," she muttered against my neck.
"That's literally the job description."
She giggled, the sound pure sunshine after the darkness of Alex's message. I carried her to the bed, depositing her gently on the sheets. She immediately burrowed under the covers, making a nest of blankets that left only her face visible.
"Story?" she asked hopefully.
"Quick one," I agreed, settling on the edge of the bed. "Which book?"
"The butterfly one."
Always the butterfly one.
