I don’t realize it until the smoke curls up from the skillet, but even that doesn’t snap me out of the spiral in my head. I’ve been pacing this small kitchen like a restless animal, checking the clock, window, and door.
Aria should’ve been home by now. She was supposed to be back half an hour ago, but there’s still no sign of her. She’s safe with Ella, I know that. But knowing and feeling are two very different things when I’m a single father with a daughter whose entire world has been shaken enough times already.
I’m not usually like this. I trust Ella with my life, and that extends to my daughter, but something feels wrong, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to shake it off.
I’m seconds from going out to look for her when the cabin door bangs open so hard it rattles the frame.
“Daddy—Daddy—Daddy!”
Aria barrels inside, breathless, cheeks red, eyes glassy—and not the excited kind of glassy. It’s the scared kind, and my entire world stops.
“Aria? Baby, what happened?” I ask, my voice low and steady, even though my pulse is kicking like a wild horse.
She runs into me, arms flinging around my waist, small body trembling. I crouch down so I’m eye-level, hands on her shoulders. “Aria. Sweetheart. Talk to me.”
Physically, she looks okay—she’s not hurt, limping, or bleeding—but shaking, and somehow that’s worse.
She swallows hard, tears filling her eyes. “Mom. She—she—“
“Mom? Calista?”
She nods vigorously, and everything inside me goes still. What has that wicked woman done now?
“What did she do?” I ask, trying not to overthink it.
“She—she was yelling at Miss Ella, saying awful things to her. She was mad that Miss Ella was with us. And then she—“ Her voice cracks. “She slapped her.”
The words hit me like a punch to the ribs. My mind goes completely blank, like someone has unplugged me. Shock hits first, cold and paralyzing, and for a full five seconds, I don’t even breathe.
Then guilt slams into me. I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected them both, should’ve anticipated Calista pulling another stunt—she’s predictable in the worst, most hateful ways. I should’ve—
“Daddy?” Aria’s voice shakes. “Miss Ella was bleeding. Well, not bleeding but… her cheek was red. Really red.”
Fuck.
My jaw locks. “And you? Are you hurt? Did she touch you? What about Daisy?”
“No. She didn’t touch us. Miss Ella put us behind her.”
Of course she did. Leave it to Ella, a girl with a heart too big, to put herself between my daughter and a woman who lost the right to be called a mother years ago.
My shock cracks, fear rushing in, throat tightening until it hurts. Calista has never been stable, but hitting Ella? In public? In front of the girls? That’s a new level of unhinged. And then, the anger hits—hot and sharp, tearing through my restraint.
“Where’s Ella now?” I ask Aria.
“In the main house with her brothers. They are all mad. Really mad.”
I straighten. “Let’s go.”
“To Miss Ella?”
“Yes.”
I need to make sure she’s okay, see the damage with my own eyes, and confront every single thing I didn’t protect her from.
She nods and starts moving, but halfway to the door, she looks back at me. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
