Home.
I hadn’t had one before.
It was only a simple drive from Ridgemont’s campus—a mere twenty minutes from those iron gates but I felt a universe away. Like I’d spun the globe and landed somewhere with brighter skies and warmer clouds.
There was oxygen here, and it was maybe the first time I’d been able to breathe without pain.
“Baby bird?”
I followed the sound of his voice, fingers trailing along the wall and the photos he had lining it. Most were landscapes, vivid and detailed enough that I thought I could take my daddy’s wings and fly right into one.
There was a simple snapshot in the middle of the adventure. Roman stood proud in military fatigues. A streak of dirt was smeared across his tanned cheek but it didn’t dim the smile that spread across his lips. His arm was slung over another man’s shoulder, and there was laughter in a set of eyes that looked just like my daddy bird’s.
Charlie.
He was taller than Roman by a foot or so, and he clenched the barrel of a rifle tight in his fist. Black smudges stained the skin beneath his eyes, and I sort of liked the idea that wherever Charlie was, Foster was there too.
A ray of sunlight filtered into the hallway, dancing across my toes. With one foot in front of the other, I followed it into a well-lit living space. A wide window stretched across the width of one wall. There was a little bench just beneath it, and I had this vision of sitting there forever, the sun on my cheeks and peace in my heart. Curtains swayed on either side of it, brushing the carpeting as they moved. Plants were placed strategically around his plush furniture, and there were blankets everywhere.
Roman stood in the place where the kitchen met the living room, arms folded neatly across his chest. His eyes were warm as he stared at me, the corners of his lips twitching just a little.
“There he is. For a second there, I was worried you flew away.”
I snorted.
Yeah, right.
Moving quickly through the room, I leapt over the threshold and into his arms.
He grunted and palmed my butt as he lifted me up his chest. “Careful, baby. You’ll irritate your injuries.”
Arms locked around his neck, I shoved my nose in the base of his throat, inhaling him. If love had a smell,thiswas it. It was like sunshine tickling my nostrils, warmth touching my chest. My lungs stretched to make more room for it, and buried beneath all that security was a hint of something delicious that made me want to lick him all over.
How did I ask for that?
Excuse me, Daddy, I know we have a lot to talk about but I was sort of hoping you could press me against that counter over there and do inappropriate things to my body?
The tops of my cheeks warmed, the cords of my neck tightening. I felt my toes curl the same moment my thighs tightened around his waist, and then he moved.
With a kiss to my forehead, he tried to set me down in a kitchen chair. I refused to let go of him. Roman’s throat vibrated when he chuckled, and he pivoted once, setting me on the edge of the table while he sat in the chair. Palms slipping up my thighs, he spread them enough that they caged either side of his upper body. My feet locked around the back of the chair, and I placed my hands on the column of his neck, sweeping my thumb across the pulse point.
He hummed. “As far as the administration knows, I have a cold. Are you sure your father won’t come looking for you today?”
I hitched an eyebrow. My lips flattened as I stared at him. I wanted to ask him if he was serious… but I knew he was. Daddy didn’t play games with my safety, and I saw the gravity of that hidden in the firm line of his jaw and displayed in the circles of his eyes.
My throat bobbed, and I used my finger to tap at my busted lip, attempting to convey my response. His forehead wrinkled, and though he was trying, he couldn’t read the story I was struggling to tell.
Eyes closed, I took a long breath. Letters floated up my throat and piled on the tip of my tongue. I sunk my fingers into the skin around his throat, and all at once, it burst out of me.
One word.
“Daddy.”
It burned a little, and I choked on the sounds. It left my lips like vomit but it tasted like relief. My chest caved in, and I said it again. “Daddy.”
It had been almost a year since I’d heard the sound of my own voice. I barely recognized it. It was soft, a little raspy and coated in glass. The syllables left my mouth one by one, and though there was some hesitancy, there was some strength too.
The fortitude was a sound that’d been missing before.