“No.”
He glances down the hall to make sure we’re still alone. “I need to go to the trailer, and I want you to show me where you found her.”
“Rage, why would you torture yourself like that?”
“So I never forget.”
It’s written clearly on his face. He’s scared a part of his mother lives inside him, and he’s doing everything in his power to never let it out. I understand completely.
“Okay, I’ll go with you, but only after Mila goes to sleep.”
“Rage!” Cole calls from the kitchen.
We turn at the same time he rounds the corner. “Mila is crying for …” He pauses, rubbing his hand over his throat. “Well, she’s crying for her mom.”
I glance at Rage, and his jaw hardens.
“It’s normal. Her mom was all she ever knew. It makes sense she misses her,” I try my best to reason with him.
We follow Cole out to the deck. Mila is wailing at the top of her lungs as Carson hugs her. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he tells her.
Rage steps beside them. “Mila, look at me,” he says calmly.
Surprisingly she listens, but her focus quickly turns to me. “Mommy,” she says, tugging away from Carson and running toward me.
I retreat a step right before she barrels into my legs. She wraps herself around them.
“Mila’s,” she sobs, holding on tight.
Panic races up my spine, but at the same time liquid gold is being poured into my heart. It’s such a contradiction. I’m not sure which way to turn.
My frantic gaze meets Rage’s. His remains calm and just as possessive as the little girl who’s holding on to me.
“It makes sense,” Carson says, coming to my aid. He places his hand on my shoulder, urging me to lower myself and comfort her. “Kids figure things out quicker than we give them credit for. She feels safe with you.”
His words manage to snap me back to reality.
“It’s okay,” I tell Mila, brushing her hair from her face. Her dark eyes bounce over mine. She was worried I had left her. “I was just going to the bathroom.”
She wipes her snotty nose on the back of her hand, hiccupping back what remains of her big emotions.
“Should we go clean up while Carson finishes your hot dog?”
“I’m on it,” he says, going back to the fire pit.
Rage holds the door open and follows us into the kitchen. I set her on the counter by the sink and begin cleaning her face and hands. He watches from across the room.
She reaches over to stick her hand in the water, watching it run between her fingers.
“I’m sorry it scared you that I left you outside.” I gently pull her hand toward me so I can dry it off. “But Mila, I’m not your mommy.”
Rage jumps forward. “Yet. She’s not your mommy yet.” Mila peeks around me to look at him. “When I marry her, then she will be your mommy.”
I take a deep breath before turning to face him. “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m going to adopt her. She will legally become my daughter and yours. She might as well start calling you the correct title now.”
“Chase.”