67

67
Alaric’s POV
I stood crosslegged as I watched Francesca run ahead, her curls bouncing as she sprinted from the jungle gym to the swings. It was a good day for her, I could tell. She was laughing, smiling, so full of life that it almost made me forget the darkness we would be returning to.
Almost.
“Emilia, come push me!” Francesca called out, her voice cutting through my thoughts.
I glanced over at Emilia, who was standing a few steps away, her arms crossed as she watched us. Her expression softened when Francesca called for her, and she moved toward the swings without hesitation. Francesca grinned, practically leaping into the seat. Emilia positioned herself behind her, giving her a gentle push.
“Higher, Emilia!” Francesca squealed.
Emilia chuckled, obliging her request with a stronger push. Francesca’s giggles filled the air loudly as she grinned at Emilia. My heart squeezed with an emotion I didn’t like at all. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, but it was close. It was the realization that, despite everything I’d built, despite every careful plan I’d laid out, I couldn’t compete with the simple, genuine connection Francesca had with Emilia.
I stood there, watching the two of them. Emilia was focused on Francesca, her face lit up in a way I’d never seen before. It was like she’d forgotten everything else for a moment-the danger, the things that had happened these past few days. And Francesca… she looked at Emilia like she was her whole world.
It should have made me happy to see Francesca so content, but instead, it filled me with a cold, creeping dread. Because I knew this couldn’t last.
I forced myself to walk over to them, hands shoved into my pockets. “Francesca,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “why don’t you try swinging on your own for a bit?”
She looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “But I want Emilia to push me,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I glanced at Emilia, who looked like she was trying to gauge my reaction, her smile faltering slightly. I gave her a tight nod before turning back to Francesca.
“Emilia needs a break,” I said. “And you’re a big girl now. You can swing yourself, right?”
Francesca’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “But I want her to push me,” she insisted.
I could feel my shoulders stiffening. This was exactly what I’d feared. While I couldn’t deny that Emilia had a gift for calming her when she was upset, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Francesca wasn’t supposed to rely on her like this.
Because one day, Emilia might not be here.
I glanced at Emilia again, searching her face for any hint of what she was thinking. She seemed uncomfortable, maybe even guilty, but she kept pushing the swing. I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear.
“You’re making it harder for her,” I said, my tone sharper than I’d intended.
Emilia’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“She’s getting too attached,” I said, keeping my voice low and even. “You’re always there, and she’s starting to depend on you.”
Emilia blinked, clearly caught off guard. “She’s a child, Alaric. She needs someone to depend on.”
“She needs me to depend on,” I snapped, immediately regretting the edge in my voice. I took a breath, trying to calm myself. “You won’t be here forever.”
The words were harsher than I had expected, but was the truth and I could see the flicker of something-hurt, maybe-cross Emilia’s face before she looked away. She gave the swing one last push before stepping back, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
“Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice soft but with an underlying sharpness. “For me to leave?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted. Or rather, I knew what I wanted, but I couldn’t admit it. Not to her, not to myself. I wanted Francesca to be happy, but I also wanted to protect her, to shield her from the pain that would come if Emilia decided to walk away.
Francesca slowed to a stop, twisting around in the swing to look at us. “Why did you stop pushing, Emilia?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.
Emilia forced a smile, crouching down to meet Francesca’s eyes. “I’m just taking a little break, sweetheart,” she said gently. “You can do it on your own. I know you can.”
Francesca hesitated, glancing between me and Emilia as if trying to figure out what was happening. “Will you stay and watch me?” she asked.
Emilia’s smile softened. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll always be here to watch you.”
Something twisted inside me at her words. I knew she meant them, but I also knew that promises like that were fragile. Emilia might believe she’d always be here now, but things changed. People left. I’d seen it happen too many times to believe otherwise.
I watched as Francesca started to pump her legs, the swing moving higher and higher. She was determined, her little face scrunched up in concentration. Emilia stood back, giving her space but still keeping a watchful eye on her.
I took a step closer to Emilia, lowering my voice again. “She needs to learn to do things on her own,” I said. “To rely on herself. Not you.”
Emilia turned to me, her expression hardening. “And what if she doesn’t have to?” she challenged. “What if she’s just a little girl who wants to feel safe and loved?”
“She can feel safe and loved without getting attached to someone who might leave,” I shot back.
The words seemed to hit Emilia like a slap. She recoiled slightly, her eyes widening before she schooled her features into a mask of indifference. “I see,” she said quietly. “So that’s what you think I am? Someone who’s just going to leave?”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Because I didn’t want to say the truth out loud-that yes, I did think she might leave. That I couldn’t let myself believe in anything more because the cost would be too high if I was wrong.
“Alaric,” she said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “You can’t keep her from forming connections just because you’re afraid of losing them.”
“I’m not afraid,” I lied. “I’m just being realistic.”
She stared at me for a moment, searching my face like she was trying to find the truth buried beneath my words. But whatever she saw there made her shake her head, a sad, resigned smile tugging at her lips.
“You’re so used to being alone that you can’t even see when someone wants to stay,” she said, almost to herself. Then she stepped back, giving Francesca a thumbs-up as the swing reached its peak. “You’re doing great, Francesca sweetie!”
Francesca beamed. I watched them, my heart tightening in my chest. I wanted to say something, to tell Emilia that she was wrong, that I did see it. That I did want her to stay. But the words stuck in my throat, trapped by years of learned caution and the fear of letting anyone in.
So I stayed silent, letting the moment slip away.
Francesca kept swinging until she tired herself out and wanted to do something else instead. I watched her, but my eyes kept drifting back to Emilia. She was standing a little farther away now, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to keep warm despite the summer heat.
And as I looked at her, I realized that maybe the person I was most afraid of losing wasn’t Francesca.
It was her.