“A-are you sure about this, Lucas?” Avela whispered, voice still thin from crying. “Are you sure it will work?”
The way she looked up at me—eyes glassy, lashes wet, trust and fear tangled in one expression—did something violent to my chest. I cupped her face again, gently brushing the tear that clung stubbornly to her cheek with my thumb.
“Baby,” I murmured softly, “trust me.”
My hand slid down to her jaw, tilting her face up. “And stop crying. You’re tearing me apart over here.”
Her lips wobbled, and that alone felt like someone punched a hole straight through my ribs. I pulled her into me, arms wrapping around her small shaking body. I kissed the top of her head—soft, lingering, full of every silent promise I didn’t know how to say out loud.
“It’s okay,” I whispered into her hair. “
