Page 73 of Tracking Snow

"Chip, would you mind finishing tallying up stock for our next reader event? I got about a third of the way through but..." She glances at the baby, who has now shoved one damp hand against her mouth.

"Aye aye, boss," Chip says, saluting before disappearing to the back.

A memory flickers. A hand smoothing our hair. A kiss pressed to our forehead. Mother’s voice, sweet and low, calling us her perfect boy.

Then later, her face drained of warmth, contorted by fear and despair. I try to shove those recollections deep down, but they squirm back up, raw.

"Gimme," Snow demands, reaching her hands out and making grabbing motions.

The woman laughs before extracting her hair from the baby’s hand and passing him over to Snow. She does it easily. No hesitation. No flinch. Like handing over the most precious thing she has is safe because Snow is safe.

"Who’s my best little man?" Snow coos in a baby voice. "Auntie Snow wants to squish your face off. You’re so cute."

Then she drops a dozen kisses on his face, rapid-fire, until he dissolves into peals of giggles.

The sound lodges somewhere under my ribs.

Snow presses her nose to his cheek. "We love you so much we’d cover up any crimes you committed, no matter how bad, wouldn’t we?"

The woman tries to suppress a smile and fails. "Stop trying to tell my kid it’s okay to murder and pillage."

Snow tilts the baby around, so they’re both looking at his mother. It’s almost as if he understands the assignment and rounds his big brown eyes up at her in earnest alongside Snow. "Don’t lie. With this face, you would absolutely cover up any murdering or pillaging your kid might happen to accidentally commit."

The mother’s lips soften as adoration spills across her face.

I feel Seven shift, his dark pulling at me, a pressure blooming behind my eyes. I look away first, unable to swallow the twisting knot in my throat.

"Did you only come here to prime my baby to commit crimes?" Isabelle asks with an amused smile.

Snow’s mirth drops as she gives the baby one more squeeze, but this time the squeeze is a comfort she is taking for herself from the small chubby-faced baby who gladly gives her all she needs.

"Here," Snow says, passing the baby to me.

"I don’t⁠—"

The kid lands in my arms before I can finish. Snow catches one of my elbows and adjusts it under him.

"Support his head," Then she abandons me, pulling Isabelle a few steps away.

The baby stares up at me.

I stare back.

He’s heavier than he looks. Warm too. All loose limbs, fat cheeks, damp mouth, and tiny fingers curling into the front of my hoodie. His hand opens and closes against the fabric with blind trust.

His mother lets Snow draw her a few steps away without snatching him from me. My throat tightens.

"Goldie’s missing," Snow says to Isabelle, still in earshot.

The baby grabs my finger. His whole fist barely fits around the first knuckle.

"Ted and his brothers are tearing the city apart," Snow continues, voice tight, "but no one has a clue. She just—poof—vanished. The cops say it hasn’t been long enough to have cause for concern, but Dame Kiki Eleganza has gone missing too. The HAMs attacked Poison Apple, and I think they might be targeting our people."

Our people. Except Snow isn’t like them. Snow is human.

Isabelle sets a hand down on the counter. "You want me to talk to Dominic."

"I want you to talk to Dominic."