Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I don’t have River Thompson figured out.
Not by a long shot.
And that might be the most terrifying realization of all.
18
River
A quiet, broken sound slices through the dark, and I jolt upright, adrenaline rushing through my veins. For a second, I’m disoriented, still caught between sleep and waking.
That’s when I remember I’m not alone.
Callie’s curled up next to me, her faint inhalations brushing against the pillow. The floral scent of her shampoo wraps around me before slipping slyly around my heart until it’s impossible to untangle.
Before I can shift closer and take it all in, another sound cuts through the silence.
A hiccupping sob.
And just like that, everything inside me freezes.
Nora.
My body moves before my mind can fully catch up. I glance at Callie. She’s out cold with one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her features have relaxed and are finally at ease. She needs this sleep. I’ve seen how hard she pushes herself, the exhaustion she carries like an extra weight she’s gotten used to.
I slide quietly from the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress. The floor is cool beneath my feet as I pad into the hallway. The door across from ours is cracked open, the glow of a tiny nightlight casting a warm pool of amber against the dark.
I nudge the door open wider and step inside.
Nora’s sitting up in bed, her tiny body trembling. Her hair is mussed and her cheeks are damp with tears. She blinks up at me with wide, watery eyes, and the second she sees me, her bottom lip wobbles as her arms reach up.
“Rivvy…”
Her voice is barely more than a whisper, but it hits me like a freight train. An ache fills me as I cross the room in three strides and scoop her into my arms. She clings without hesitation, as if she already understands I’m someone she can trust. Her arms wind around my neck as I press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey, ladybug,” I murmur, rocking her gently. “Did you have a bad dream?”
She doesn’t answer, just lets out a tired whimper and rests her head on my shoulder.
As I settle into the chair in the corner, I grab the fleece blanket draped over the back and wrap it around her. Nora lets out a sleepy sigh, her thumb slipping into her mouth as she nuzzles closer.
I shift her slightly, cradling her small body against mine, and start rubbing slow circles along her back. It’s meant to soothe her, but it ends up calming me too.
The tension I didn’t realize I was holding bleeds out of my muscles.
She settles deeper into me, all warm limbs and trusting. That’s all it takes for something within me to pull tight. It’s the kind of tightness that makes it hard to breathe, but in the best possible way.
I glance around the room, my gaze landing on the bare corner where a cozy armchair rocker would fit perfectly. The first thing I’m doing tomorrow is ordering the one we saw at the store.
Minutes pass.
Maybe more.
The room is dim and still, lit only by the nightlight and the faint glow from the hallway. The hush of the city hums through the windows, but it feels a world away from where I am right now with this little girl curled up against me, her heartbeat syncing with mine.
Nora hasn’t even been here a full twenty-four hours, and already she’s got me wrapped around her little finger.
I don’t know what that says about me.
Or maybe I do.
I rest my head back against the chair and let my eyes fall closed for just a moment. My arms stay wrapped tight around her, like I’m anchoring us both in place.
I tell myself I’m just resting.
Giving her a minute or two to fall into a deeper sleep.
But the truth is, I don’t want to move.
Or be anywhere else.
Not on the ice.
Or at the Rail Yard.
Or even in my king-sized bed.
With this little girl sleeping soundly in my arms and her mom just across the hall, it feels like everything I’ve ever wanted. Like I’m exactly where I was always meant to be.
Now I just have to convince Callie she belongs here too.
19
Callie
Pale morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. I don’t wake to the sound of Nora crying or the familiar rush of panic clawing at my chest, reminding me of everything I forgot to do the day before. There’s no alarm, and all hell isn’t breaking loose.
It’s just silent.
Somehow, that quiet is more disorienting than the storm I’ve grown used to over the years.
I lie still, letting the softness of the mattress cradle me as the lingering warmth of the sheets cocoons my limbs. They feel heavy in the best way. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.