“I will,” he promises. “But not all at once. She’s already dealing with enough.”
I look back toward the house, the faint sound of Maddie’s laughter drifting through the open window. Nysa’s in there, probably reading to Maddie or trying to teach her something new.
She has no idea what’s coming.
“I don’t like this, Mal,” I mutter.
“I don’t either,” he admits. “But it’s the best option we’ve got.”
When I head back to the house, I take a moment to pause on the porch, leaning against the railing as I watch the sun dip lower in the sky. The light filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the yard.
Inside, I can hear Maddie’s tiny voice and Nysa’s soft laughter. The sound of them calms me a little, but also makes me anxious. Why don’t I just take them with me and we run away?
Because in order to make them safe, we have to pretend everything is fine and play along. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the conversation with Mal. Trying to focus on what’s in front of me instead of the weight pressing down on my chest.
When I finally push open the door, Nysa is sitting on the floor with Maddie, surrounded by blocks and picture books. Maddie is babbling about something, her hands waving in the air, and Nysa is nodding along, her smile easy and natural.
“Hey,” Nysa says, looking up as I step into the room. “How’s the horse?”
“He’s doing better,” I reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Thanks for keeping Maddie entertained.”
“It’s not hard,” she says, glancing at Maddie. “She’s pretty great company.”
Maddie looks up at me, grinning. “Daddy. Look what we made.”
She points to a precarious tower of blocks, and I can’t help but smile. “That’s impressive, pumpkin.”
“Don’t touch it,” she warns, her little hands reaching out protectively.
Nysa laughs, sitting back on her heels. “She’s very serious about her architecture. Grandma just ordered some new toys that include big stacking blocks that will be great for her.”
I watch them for a moment, something deep inside me pulling tight—not with fear or doubt, but with a certainty I wasn’t prepared for. A feeling that settles in, undeniable, making me realize just how much they mean to me.
And that terrifies me.
“Lunch is almost ready,” Nysa says, standing and brushing her hands on her jeans.
I nod, my mind still spinning from Mal’s words.
She notices, her brow furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just a lot on my mind.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push.
Instead, she turns back to Maddie, helping her clean up the blocks and books before heading toward the kitchen.
And as I watch her move, so effortlessly a part of this house, this life, I can’t help but think about how much I’d do to keep her safe.
Whatever it takes.
Even if it means making choices I don’t like.
Chapter Twenty
Nysa
Some days, I miss my old, nomad life. Drifting from one vineyard to the next, checking on crops, tasting wine—it was simple, predictable, and a hell of a lot more enjoyable than pretending to be fine while a bunch of strangers hammer my house back together.
