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I scrubbed my hands over my face, a groan ripping from my chest. This was what she did to me, and it was exactly what I had all my defenses for. So why hadn’t I used any of them?

Because you didn’t want to, an obnoxious voice inside my head whispered.

I’d been given a whole week to figure out what would happen next—what I wanted to have happen next, assuming I retained custody of my daughter. It would’ve been a great time to start putting some space between Harper and me. Even just during the day.

I didn’t have to go with her and Pais to check on the hives every morning. I didn’t have to invite her to the beach with us for a picnic every afternoon. We didn’t have to plan dinner together. I didn’t have to ask for stories about her life, about her childhood, using Pais as an excuse to know more. To want to know more. To want to stop this feeling like I’d never know enough.

I told myself it was a distraction from my own circumstance, from the dread that would take root if I let it. But that was a lie. There was no way for darkness to take hold when Harper’s sunshine was around, and I wanted it around all the time.

God, even if I couldn’t keep my dick away from her every night, there were plenty of things I could’ve done to keep…other parts of me from getting too close, but I’d done none of them. Even now, all I wanted was to be down in the sand with them like we were some kind of family.

Our own little hive.

I blew out a tight breath. Not in the cards. Especially not when Paisley’s place in my world felt so tenuous. She was the only thing I could focus on.

“Daddy!”

Pais waved at me to join them.

“Coming!” I pushed up off the rock I was sitting on and brushed my hands off on my jeans. No sooner had I taken two steps onto the sand when a boom of thunder rippled from the distance. Almost like Mother Nature herself was warning me away from this fantasy of a family.

“Shit,” I muttered. Pais’s panicked look darted between me and Harper before she bolted toward me. “I’ve got you,” I said as I hoisted her up. “Guess it’s time to head home.”

Home. Another thing that slipped through. No longer was it “Harper’s house” or “the farm” but just “home.”

The rest of the group hurried over, but I kept pace ahead, wanting to get Pais in the car as quickly as possible. Hurried goodbyes were made and then Harper slid into the passenger seat next to me. We weren’t even on the road for one minute before she turned back to Paisley and said, “You know what this means.”

In the rearview, I saw my daughter’s eyes widen and her mouth round. “Thunder cake?” she whispered.

“Exactly.” Harper smiled. “You have to show your dad how it’s done.”

Making a cake…or making my daughter no longer afraid of thunderstorms? Because that had seemed like an impossible feat, and yet, she’d done it. For a second, I let myself wonder what other impossible things could Harper turn around; I let myself wonder if one of those impossible things could be me.

“Here, Dad. Watch,” Pais instructed, taking the whisk from Harper and then she stopped. At first, I thought she was waiting for me to acknowledge her like it wasn’t obvious she had my whole attention.

“I’m watching,” I told her, and she shook her head, listening.

“Not yet,” she whispered, almost scolding me. “We have to wait for the thunder to mix it in.” There wasn’t a duh at the end of her sentence but it sure sounded like there should’ve been.

A second later, a long boom rattled through the house, and my daughter squealed—whether it was from fear or excitement, I couldn’t tell, but maybe neither could she because all of a sudden, she was mixing furiously. Her little arm scrambled the batter so quickly, Harper had to quickly hold on to the bowl to stop it from flying off the counter.

“That was such a good one,” Paisley cheered, practically bouncing.

“It’s going to put so much yummy thunder in the cake. I’m so excited,” Harper encouraged her with a laughing smile.

For a second, it felt like my soul floated out of my body and above us, watching the three of us together like I’d wanted to be on the beach.

“Okay, now we have to catch some rain. Quick, take your dad.”

Paisley’s hand locked on mine and she yanked me toward the front door. I looked over my shoulder, catching Harper’s wink as she pulled out the bag of crushed Ferrero Rocher candies, letting me in on her precious secret.

At the door, Pais collected raindrops in the measuring cup, settling on some arbitrary amount that I was sure seemed very precise to her, before pulling me with her back to the kitchen.

“We’ve got it,” Pais exclaimed, handing the cup to Harper to add to the batter.

Within moments, Harper offloaded the baking dish into the oven.

“Now, we wait.”