"Not yet." She sat up. Looked around the beach like she was seeing it for the first time. "Kolya, look at that doggy!"
She pointed at a golden retriever playing in the waves about fifty feet away. Young dog. Maybe a year old. Bounding through the water with pure joy. Its owner was throwing a tennis ball, the dog retrieving it and bringing it back over and over.
Her voice had gone even higher. More animated. Pure Little now.
"It's so happy!" She watched the dog with complete focus. "Look how it jumps! Look at its tail wagging!"
I watched her instead of the dog. Watched the transformation happening right in front of me. The way her whole demeanor had shifted. The way she was sitting now—knees pulled up, arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees. Young. Small. Vulnerable in the best way.
"Can we get a dog?" She turned to look at me. Those eyes wide and hopeful. Guileless. "Please? I've always wanted a dog. Daddy never let me have one because we moved too much and he said it would be too much work but I would take care of it, I promise. I'd feed it and walk it and love it so much."
My chest went tight. So tight I couldn't breathe for a second.
She was little. Fully little. Slipping into that space naturally, without fear, without the trauma holding her back. The beach had done this. The safety and play and joy had let her be small.
And she'd called me Daddy. In public. Not quietly. Not whispered. Just said it like it was my name. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I should scan our surroundings. Should check for threats. Should be concerned that someone heard. That someone might use this vulnerability against us.
But I couldn't bring myself to care. Not when she was looking at me with such hope. Such trust. Such pure Little joy.
"Maybe," I said softly. Reached out to tuck hair behind her ear. "If you're very good."
Her whole face lit up. "I'm always good for you, Daddy!"
The proclamation was loud. Enthusiastic. Pure Little with no filter and no self-consciousness.
The couple on the blanket twenty feet away glanced over. Probably heard. Probably thought we were just playing around. Or maybe they understood. Maybe they knew what this was.
I didn't care either way.
"You are," I agreed. "You're such a good girl for me."
She beamed. Launched herself at me in a hug that nearly knocked me backward. Her arms around my neck. Her face buried against my shoulder.
"I love you, Kolya," she whispered. "So much."
"I love you too, malyshka," I said against her hair. "More than anything."
She pulled back. Smiled at me with such unguarded happiness that my chest ached with it. Then she was off. Jumping up and running toward the water again. Splashing in the waves. Laughing at nothing. Just being.
I watched her play. Watched this woman who'd survived so much finally feel safe enough to be small. To be vulnerable. To be free.
And I made a silent promise to whatever god might be listening.
I would protect this. Protect her. Protect the space where she could be little and joyful and safe. No matter what it cost me.
Always.
Chapter 13
Sophie
Themorninglightfilteredthrough half-closed curtains, painting Nikolai's bedroom in shades of gold and bronze. I woke slowly, my body heavy with the kind of contentment that came from a full day at the beach yesterday—sun and sand and Nikolai's careful attention to my sunscreen application. His arm was draped across my waist, solid and warm.
I was safe. That knowledge settled in my bones like truth instead of hope.
Nikolai stirred behind me, his breathing changing from sleep to wakefulness. His hand splayed across my stomach, pulling me closer, and he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck that made me shiver for entirely non-traumatic reasons.
