After one quick smile, she turns and walks straight to Norah and wraps her arms around her waist. “I’ll see you soon,” she says happily.
Norah swallows hard and hugs her back. “Soon,” she promises.
Amber watches, jaw tight. Ryker walks into Maisie’s room and brings out her packed bag and a few of Rufus’s toys in another bag.
“She’s not taking the dog,” I say through gritted teeth.
“My dog. My daughter. I think Maisie and Rufus are rather attached. And I already told you that Stella is pet-friendly, so why the hell not?” She takes the bags from Ryker.
“Don’t do this,” I tell her.
She ignores me. “Come on, baby. Let’s go.”
Maisie hugs Norah one more time, then turns and waves at us. “Bye, Uncle Jude. Bye, Ryker. Bye, Norah.”
My throat closes. “Bye, peanut.”
Ryker looks like he might explode.
As they walk toward the door, every instinct in me screams to stop this. To call someone. To do something. To fight.
But I don’t.
Because no matter how wrong this feels, she’s still Maisie’s mother.
The door shuts behind them, and the sound of the truck starting up feels final and brutal.
Ryker swears under his breath. “We should call someone. CPS. A lawyer. PetCo. Something.”
I stare at the door, heart pounding. “I know.”
“I know she has struggles,” Ryker says. “And right now things are bad, but this is so fucked up. This is all so fucked up.”
“I know,” I repeat, hating how small it sounds.
“I want to knock Luke’s teeth in,” Ryker mutters.
I nod, anger boiling under my skin as I picture the truck pulling away, my niece inside it, and nothing I can do to stop it.
“I think I should go,” Norah says softly. “So you guys can handle this privately.”
I turn toward her instinctively, reaching out before I even think about it. My hand closes around her wrist, and I pull her back in—not hard, just enough to stop her from slipping away.
“Wait,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “Come here.”
She hesitates for half a second, then steps into me. I wrap my arms around her, and she melts against my chest like she’s done it a hundred times before, like her body remembers something mine does too.
My chin rests against the top of her head, and I breathe her in, steadying myself with the simple fact that she’s here.
Ryker steps in without a word, one big hand pressing into the middle of my back, the other coming around to pull us both closer.
It’s clumsy and crowded and exactly what I need. His presence is solid and dependable, the way it has always been.
“You wanna skip work today?” Ryker asks quietly. “I can cover. Chase can handle the finishing of the demolitions. I can handle the mayor.”
I shake my head against Norah’s hair. “No. I’ll be fine.”
It’s a lie, but it’s the kind I’m used to telling. The kind that lets the day keep moving.
