Page 126 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir
Not from the world, but from whatever gnawed us raw to get here.
Kalev’s hand rests loosely over mine. Not possessive. Just…there.
It anchors me in a way I didn’t know I needed.
For the first time in years, my shoulders aren’t clenched around a constant silent scream.
I let my head tip sideways until it touches his shoulder. His shirt smells like sun-warmed skin and a hint of engine oil—leftovers from fixing the faulty solar rig this morning.
“You fixed it for real?” I murmur.
“Didn’t even break a sweat,” he says.
Clancy pipes up without looking away from his project. “You swore at itso much.”
Kalev raises a brow. “I swore at thetools, not the rig.”
“Same difference,” Clancy says, grinning.
I chuckle. “Language awareness is improving, at least.”
“I learned it fromyou,” Clancy says.
Kalev gives me a slow, exaggerated side-eye. I give him a gentle elbow in the ribs.
“You’re corrupting our child,” he mutters.
I grin into my mug. “He was halfway corrupted before you even showed up.”
We let the quiet return after that, easy and unpressured. The kind that doesn't demand conversation to justify itself.
Clancy hums under his breath, trying again with the crab. It twitches, skitters forward—then rights itself and chirps like victory.
“Yes!” he whoops.
Kalev claps once, proud. “Told you. Don’t force it.”
Clancy beams. “Can I take it outside?”
“Back garden only,” I say. “And use the signal tether.”
“Got it.”
He bolts for the back panel, leaving the toy in his wake as if it might follow on its own.
We sit there another beat, the kind that should last forever.
Kalev exhales slowly, head tilted back. “You ever think it could be this simple?”
“No,” I admit. “Not even once.”
But I want it now. Desperately.
Which is exactly why it can't last.
The knock cuts through the air like a scalpel.
Three taps. Clean. Measured. Too light to be urgent. Too precise to be innocent.
