“Exactly,” he says. “They just tuck in and wait it out.”
His words settle deep in my chest. If only it had been that simple for us.
There would’ve been no bruises, no pain, just built-in protection from the vicious words and cruel hands that wanted to harm us.
But we’re not that lucky. All we got were scars that remind us we survived and boundaries we built to protect ourselves. Because of that, we choose to be better and focus on the future, not let the past define us.
I glance at Blake, watching the easy way he is with Tinsley. The way he matches her pace without thinking as she skips along beside him, swinging their hands. He’s so good with her.
“I’m going to tell the turtles we’re friends,” she says. “Then maybe they won’t hide from me.”
He laughs. “Sounds like a plan, Sprout.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, then holds out her hand. “Come on, Mama. You don’t want to get lost.”
“No, princess. I don’t want to get lost.” Smiling at my daughter, I grip her hand in mine as we approach the entrance to the aquarium.
Blake holds the door open for us, his hand brushing my shoulder as I pass, his brief touch heating my skin. When we reach the service desk, I pull out my wallet, but he shakes his head, tapping his own card to pay for the tickets.
“Today’s on me, pixie.”
Tinsley giggles. “You have funny names for everyone, Blake.”
“Not everyone,” he says, ruffling her hair as we head into the aquarium. “Only my best friends.”
She grins up at him. “Me and Mama are your best friends?”
“Is that okay?”
Nodding vigorously, she reaches for his hand again. “It’s okay.”
We drift from exhibit to exhibit at Tinsley’s pace—slow when she wants us to read every sign, and fast when something new catches her eye. Blake crouches next to her at each tank, patiently answering her questions and letting her chat his ear off. I hang back, letting them share this bonding moment.
When we reach the tunnel with the sharks and stingrays floating overhead, he lets her climb onto his shoulders, and her giggles echo around us as he secures her legs with his forearm.
“Take a photo, Mama,” she calls from her perch. “Pretty please.”
I pull my phone from my bag and laugh as they pull funny faces while I snap a couple of photos.
A young mother pushing a pram pauses beside me and says, “Would you like me to take a family photo for you?”
I blink at her in confusion, but Blake doesn’t hesitate.
“That would be great,” he says, taking my phone from my hand and passing it to her.
He pulls me to his side, his free hand resting on my lower back, and I smile as I lean into him.
When she passes the phone back, we thank her before glancing down at the photo on the screen.
For a second, I forget to breathe.
“That’s a keeper,” Blake murmurs, and I shiver as his warm breath ghosts over my skin.
“Do we look cool?” Tinsley asks, leaning in between us.
“You look very cool,” I say.
She beams. “We look like a team.”
