Page 74 of Caught from Behind

The little girl has blonde hair and blue eyes and she tilts her head as she studies me, a wide grin on her face. She’s fucking cute and energetic, lifting her hand and waving it enthusiastically. “Hi,” she says, entire body vibrating with exuberance, and—Jesus fucking Christ—but she has Knox’s smile. “I’m Sophia.”

“I’m Luke!” the boy, who appears to be a year or two older, says.

Steve snorts at my side, drawing Sophie’s attention.

“It’s a pug!” she shrieks, trying to climb down from my dad’s shoulders.

Steve, no stranger to all manner of children fawning over him, promptly flops to his side, legs up, body primed for copious belly rubs. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, his little curled-up nub starts wagging.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” My dad’s voice is gentle and laced with a parental indulgence that slices right through me.

“Can I pet your doggy?” she asks me, and God, her blue eyes are so much like my own.

Even if I could have spoken—which I can’t because there’s a knife currently lodged in my belly, slowly tearing upward—Steve isn’t my dog.

I don’t have the power to grant permission for belly rubs.

Thankfully, Nova, good friend that she is, recognizes I’m frozen. She squeezes my fingers one more time before slipping her hand from mine, pushing back her chair, and rounding the table, crouching down in front of Sophia and Luke. “Steve loves belly rubs,” she says softly, showing them how to pet him gently. “Yup. Just like that. Nice job.” She helps guide their little hands, supervising because I’m in no fucking shape to do so.

My gaze is on my dad.

My. Dad.

Who can’t look at me—or can’t be bothered to do so.

He’s staring adoringly at his new kids…when a child—well, a child of his who’s an adult, but still, his fucking kid—is sitting in front of him, desperate for the barest modicum of fucking acknowledgment.

“How are you, Daniela?”

I blink, tear my gaze from my dad, from him crouching next to Nova and asking her how she’s doing, how work is treating her, what she’s doing up in Tahoe.

Questions he should be asking me.

Answers he should already know.

I swallow hard and focus on Anne. On my dad’s second wife.

That knife slices further.

“I’m fine,” I say quietly.

I want to scream at Anne, want to ask her why she’s made a whole other family with a man who abandoned his first one, but…Sophia and Luke.

They’re innocent kids having a nice day.

I won’t ruin that, even if the petty in me doesn’t return the question, doesn’t acknowledge her further, doesn’t dive into a conversation about how Luke’s elementary school teacher is or what Sophia might be learning in preschool. I don’t ask if they’re here for a weekend jaunt on the slopes or just getting away from the city for a couple of days.

I just…

Pick up my sandwich and start eating.

“No,” Nova says, slanting a glance toward me, her pretty green eyes filled with concern, “I moved up here a few months back so I can be close to Ella and Knox and my boyfriend, Lake.”

“Knox is here?”

I grind my teeth together.

His son is a professional hockey player—a fucking professional hockey player! It’s a tiny sliver of the world’s population who’ve been able to make it that far and he doesn’t even know what team he’s playing for?

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