Drowning.
Yet I felt I was floating through it all, on all that warmth and life and light.
Love was cruel like that.
A monster.
A savior.
Both anguish and ecstasy.
Because I knew right then, this life wouldn’t be worth living if I wasn’t living it for them.
In the darkness, possessiveness swelled.
Like a shroud wrapping them with my promise.
It didn’t matter the circumstances or the consequences.
The result would be the same.
I’d do anything, give it all, make any sacrifice to keep them safe.
To keep them happy.
To keep them together.
No matter the cost.
“Be careful, Little Bug,” I warned over my shoulder to a wiggling Kallie, as I stood at the sink filling a huge pot with water. Perched on the butcher-block island that rested in the middle of the country kitchen, her little legs kicked and arms flailed as she danced around to Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl playing on the small radio sitting next to her.
Nothing in the world seemed more appropriate.
“I know, Baz.” She said my name like a ballad, lifting it high and pitching it low. A wide grin split her face, exposing her perfect, tiny teeth. “I’m so, so big, you know. I’m gonna be five in only six more months. And I’m bein’ super safe.”
Okay, I drew out in my head, little thing none too shy to set me straight.
Kallie didn’t miss a beat and launched back into the song.
Afternoon light spilled in through the windows. Hazy rays struck against the untamed mound of her curls. Lighting her up. Like some kind of halo followed her around everywhere she went.
And damn, the kid learned fast.
Second time she heard the song?
She was singing those lyrics like that was exactly what she was made to do.
Shutting off the faucet, I moved to the stove, lit the burner, and placed the pot full of water over the flames. I turned around and crossed the short space to Kallie’s side and went back to slathering butter onto two halves of French loaf bread.
Yeah.
Apparently I’d become all kinds of domestic.
Lyrik and Ash were going to have a field day.
I eyed Kallie, attempting not to smile when she gave me another one of those grins and clasped her hands together. “Oh, Momma is gonna be so, so excited when she gets home and we have dinner all ready for her.”
She waved her hands in the air when she said all, tone oozing with innocence and a dash of country.
So fucking cute.
I lifted a brow. “You think so?”
“Uh-huh, I know so. Momma likes surprises. Almost as much as me.”
I chuckled, thinking Shea was going to be surprised, all right. Kallie and I’d managed to trash the kitchen in about three point five seconds. Kallie was nothing less than a whirlwind and I wasn’t exactly what one would call skilled in the kitchen.
We made quite the illustrious pair.
“Did you know I’m gonna have a surprise party one day?” she chattered on, shaking a shit ton of garlic salt on the bread I’d just finished buttering.
“I’m going to have butterflies all over and a butterfly dress and a butterfly cake. Oh, oh, OH, and butterfly face-paintin’, just like at Paige’s birthday party ’cause it was so pretty and I want everyone at my whole party to look just like a butterfly princess.”
Garlic salt was flying all over the place. Kallie’s attention was more focused on the faraway fantasy she was conjuring than the task at hand. She said birthday like ‘burfday’, and another one of those hardened parts inside me melted.
Swore to God, the kid wielded some kind of magical princess powers—tossing around some glitter and sparkly shit, casting a spell to bring the next man who crossed her path to his knees.
Pretty sure her mom possessed that power, too.
I was in deep, deep trouble.