Page 10

Then Ivy speaks. “Don't leave.”

The plea is small enough to break a man's heart.

There’s a pause, then Maggie answers. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby.”

The promise is simple, yet it eases the desperation in Ivy's voice enough for me to hear the difference.

“Okay,” she mumbles.

I close my eyes briefly. When I enter the bedroom several minutes later, the sight waiting inside leaves me motionless near the doorway.

Maggie sits beside Ivy on the mattress, helping her button her pajamas. Freshly washed curls tumble around Ivy's shoulders. Her cheeks remain blotchy from crying, and exhaustion shadows her eyes, but she looks cleaner now. Safer. More like a child again.

Maggie notices me first. “Bath accomplished.”

A faint attempt at humor. The effort alone earns my admiration.

Ivy crawls beneath the blankets before looking between us. “Can we read?”

The question is small and uncertain, as though she's unsure whether normal bedtime routines are acceptable tonight.

I cross toward the bookshelf without a second thought. “Yes.”

A tiny spark of relief brightens her face.

“You can pick,” I tell her.

She considers the shelves seriously before pointing. “The rabbit one.”

I pull the worn hardcover free. The corners are bent from years of use, and the cover bears the familiar signs of countless bedtime readings.

I lower myself into the rocking chair beside the bed and open the book. “Ready?”

“Wait,” Ivy says.

I glance up. Ivy looks between Maggie and me, then chews lightly on her bottom lip. “I want Maggie to read it.”

The request catches me off guard. For a moment, I simply look at her. “Maggie?”

Ivy nods. “But I don't want you to leave.”

The reason becomes clear. It isn't the story she's worried about but making sure the two people she feels safest with remain where she can see them.

I close the book and hold it out to Maggie. “Then Maggie reads.”

“And Papa stays,” she reminds me.

Despite everything, the corner of my mouth lifts. “Of course.”

The tension leaves her shoulders. Maggie climbs onto the bed beside her while Winston jumps onto the mattress and curls against Ivy's legs. Daisy circles twice on the rug before dropping down beside the bed with a heavy sigh.

I return to the rocking chair near the window.

Maggie opens the book and begins to read. Her voice fills the room in a way I don't expect. There’s nothing dramatic about it. Only comfort, reassurance, and a sense of safety that reminds me of a time when life felt simpler.

I watch Ivy as Maggie continues reading. At first, she remains rigid beneath the blankets. Then her breathing slows, and her fingers loosen around Maggie's sleeve. Every few minutes, Maggie pauses to show her an illustration. Ivy responds with a nod or small smile before sinking deeper into the pillows.

Halfway through the book, Ivy inches closer until her shoulder rests fully against Maggie's side. Maggie never misses a word. She adjusts her position and continues reading while one hand slips into Ivy's hair.