Page 133 of Buckin' Around

She wobbles . . .

And lands the step.

“Yeah, baby! Go Ives,” I whoop.

She lifts her focus and sways but steadies herself before taking four more steps, right into Riley’s arms. Riley’s messy bun, strangled by her navy velvet scrunchie, bobs as she folds herself around Ivy, a string of breathy praises tumbling through her lips.

I drop to my knees and wrap myself around them both.

Riles is shaking as she hauls in a sharp sniff.

Ivy is squirming. Her blonde hair is a mess as she drops to all fours and crawls back to the coffee table. Pulling herself up, she wanders along it, reaching for Mr. Fluffy before babbling away.

I’m about to scoop Riles up and huddle on the sofa when Ives holds out her bunny and says, “Dada.”

Now, my jaw feathers.

“Yeah, baby,” I rasp.

She steps over to me, handing me Mr. Fluffy. “Dad, dad, dad, dada.”

Little hands grip my shirt as she sways on her feet, big blue eyes looking up at me. My eyes. My baby girl.

Riles watches through a stream of tears, and I swallow past the stone in my throat.

Fuck.

I haul Ives into my chest and hug her tight. Dropping my lips by her ear, I whisper, “Mama, baby. We got to work on Mama.”

Mr. Fluffy is shoved into my face, and I chuckle.

“We love Mr. Fluffy, too.”

“Dad, dad, dad.” She’s wriggling off my lap a beat later and making a beeline for her toys.

When I have a lap full, some walked over, some crawled over, Riles rises and dots a kiss to my cheek before padding down the hallway without a word.

My heart squeezes.

This moment must be so bittersweet for her.

She’s more than invested in Ivy’s progress. I know she loves her as much as I do.

Hell is walking away from the people you love. I understand that now. I may have never had to live through it, but the depth of this is not lost on me.

I spend another twenty minutes playing with Ives before setting her up with more toys, a snack, and her water sippy cup. Moments later, I find Riles in our room, packing.

What the hell?

“Riles, talk to me.” I cross the room and sit on the bed by her open suitcase.

She swipes the tears from her face, but she’s shaking her head.

“Come on. This is me, we’re in this together. Look what we achieved; she’s walking and talking.”

Her face hardens, her hands hanging by her side as she whispers, “We’re not in this together, Spence. I can’t stay.”

“Riles, you have another three weeks. One more paper due. You’re so close to graduating. You can’t throw it all away now.”