Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Oof. He’s playing hardball.
“But I—”
“Luka.” Vadka interrupts, his tone unrelenting. “You heard me.”
Luka pouts, but he nods. The tantrum dissolves, and the storm passes.
And me? I’m just standing there, watching the man I might be falling for turn into the kind of father his son can rely on.
And I think it’s kind of absurd—no, it is absurd—that some parents expect their kids to have this airtight control over their emotions when they can’t even regulate their own for five damn minutes. Like, really? You're throwing tantrums in traffic, but your kid’s not allowed to cry about being told "no"? Come on. Meanwhile, I’m over here like, I can schedule my emotions. Compartmentalize like a pro. Lock them up, put them in a box, label it with a smile, and keep moving.
Vadka continues in that deep, composed voice of his, “But if you don’t behave yourself at that restaurant, you know what happens.”
He gives Luka a look—one of those silent, steady ones that cuts right through any argument before it’s even formed—and Luka doesn’t say a word. Not one. Just nods with a little pout.
Vadka doesn’t trust the moratorium on Luka’s fit. Something tells me this comes from personal experience.
And I can’t explain it—god, I wish I could—but seeing a man in control like that? That balance of stern and soft, of authority laced with love? It melts me. Completely. It unravels something inside me that I didn’t even know was tightly wound.
Maybe it’s because I never had that. Maybe it’s because that was the kind of love I craved as a kid—unshakable, certain, strong. I didn’t have so much as a father figure or mother who was actively involved in my life. I was either flying solo or under Mariah’s care until Vadka came around.
It’s why I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t meant to be a mother. I’m not wired for it. I’m not soft in the ways children need, and I don’t want to do more harm than good. I’ve always believed I wouldn’t make a suitable mom.
“I disagree,” Mariah once told me. “You already know how to love unconditionally, and that’s the important part. Maybe the most important.”
I wanted to believe her. I did. But I’m not sure she was right.
I watch Vadka take little Luka to the bathroom before we go, and I take a minute to breathe deeply and think.
Lately, I’ve been keeping my distance from Vadka. Things were starting to feel… too familiar. Too comfortable. Too flirty. And that’s not safe. Not for him. Not for me. That night in the safe house—if he had touched me, really touched me, not a chaste hug or brotherly kiss on the cheek—would I have stopped him?
Would I have wanted to?
No. Dammit, I wouldn’t have.
Every time I’m near him, it’s like my skin’s on fire. My heart kicks up, and this strange, almost teenage version of me takes over—cool, flirty, reckless. I’ve never looked at him this way before. Not until recently. But the cruel truth is this: He’s not married anymore. And how do you not fall in love with someone who so effortlessly loves the people you care about most?
I love seeing Luka. I do. But I know it’s better—safer—if I keep my distance from his father.
“I want to have french fries,” Luka says, walking back in the room and sticking out his lower lip like a little duckbill, all pout and stubborn charm.
“Then are you going to behave?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “Or do you need to go home and sit in your bed instead?”
Luka squirms in place, shifting from one foot to the other like a tiny ball of restless energy. But there’s no possible way I could win an argument with Vadka if I tried—never mind this little boy. Luka’s good. A bit wild sometimes, sure, but good. He’s got that strong will but a soft heart.
“Fine,” he says finally, exhaling like it’s costing him something enormous. “I’ll be good. Can I jump just one more time, please?”
Vadka’s lips twitch with the ghost of a smile. He shakes his head slowly, then releases his boy’s tiny hand. “One more jump,” he agrees, pointing at the bed. “But jump toward me, okay? So I can catch you if you fall.”
“All right, Auntie Ruthie?” Luka asks, wide-eyed.
Why is that the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen?
He runs and jumps in the middle of the bed, arms flying out, aiming straight for Vadka. And like it’s the most natural thing in the world, Vadka catches him in mid-air and cradles him against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of Luka’s hair.
It’s one of those stupidly soft moments that hits hard. So goddamn cute it hurts a little.
And then I remember the text. And the voicemail.
“Hey… do you ever check Mariah’s phone anymore?” I ask him quietly.