Page 63 of Saving Sophia

“Good. One more. Open for Daddy.”

She took the last bite with more enthusiasm than before, a faint, almost hopeful smile curling her lips as she swallowed the last morsel.

“Very good. Put your dishes away. Then come into the living room. It’s time Sophie and Daddy had a little chat.”

19

SOPHIA

I slid the plate into the dishwasher rack like it had been the most normal breakfast in the world. From the outside, no one would guess anything life-changing happened. But inside, my body snapped and sparked. When I’d called him Daddy again—no, when he had commanded me to call him Daddy—something inside me clicked firmly into place.

“Sophia,” he called from the living room, his voice sharp.

I hustled out of the kitchen to obey, a flutter starting in my tummy. “Y-yes … Daddy?” It felt more right each time I said it.

He was sitting in the big, rounded chair next to the couch. “Right here. On your knees.” He pointed to the floor in front of him.

I had knelt there once before, but then he’d been teasing. Playing with me. Now he was serious. And my whole body vibrated with the thrill of it.

“We need to talk, don’t we, little Sophie?”

My pet name usually gave me happy bubbles, but this time it filled me with fear and heat. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Do you remember your safeword?”

I nodded, stepping toward him and slipping to my knees. He had changed from pajama bottoms into well-fitting black khakis and a dark gray Henley over the white T-shirt.

“And you understand how to use it?” He rested his hands open on his knees, his fingers beckoning to mine.

I nodded again, laying my hands in his.

“What did Daddy say was the most important thing for a relationship like this?”

“Honesty.” The dreaded word felt like ash on my tongue.

“That’s right.” His words cut like knives piercing my heart. “Trust can’t grow around secrets. And you have some secrets you’re scared to tell me.”

My breath caught. I shifted on my knees, wishing he wasn’t right, but knowing he was.

“You can tell Daddy anything. But you have to take a leap of faith. That’s your lesson.”

He rubbed his thumbs along the edges of my palms. Waiting. This was not how I imagined my confession would go.

“What would you like to do?” he asked.

“I … want to tell you the truth.” My heart galloped, a wild animal in the throes of fear and hope and something like ecstasy all at once.

“I’m listening.”

My mouth opened.

I took a breath.

And told him everything.

I poured out my whole heart on my knees before him. About the murder. About lying to the police, lying to him. About hoping to escape my problems, and how, by not telling anyone, I’d put Callie in danger.

He said nothing, only listened.

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