Chapter 56: Chapter Fifty-five

He woke up the next morning with the tingling sensation of tiny fingers poking at his cheek and nose and the sound of soft giggles filling the room. His brows furrowed as his senses slowly started to wake, and when he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the most innocent and pure ocean-blue eyes staring right into his.

The little girl’s wide smile stretched from cheek to cheek. Her small perfectly arranged teeth showed, her dimples deepened, and her whole face lit up in delight when his eyes finally fluttered open.

“Dada!” she squealed in her tiny, sweet voice—there was no hesitation, no doubt, no question in her voice.

The word pierced right through him. His heart skipped, then twisted and melted all at once. Hunter blinked at her, stunned. He had imagined this moment in his dreams, but reality was stronger, denser. She had called him dada on there first meeting, as if she had always known him, as if he had never been absent in her life. His lips parted slowly into a smile he didn’t even realize he wore.

He pushed himself upright, sitting against the headboard while still holding her tiny gaze. His voice came low and careful, almost afraid of breaking the magic of her words.

“You… you called me dada?” he whispered.

The little girl giggled again and climbed closer to him, crawling into his lap without the smallest hesitation. She wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and clung to him.

“Dada,” she repeated proudly.

Hunter’s chest tightened. He shifted her gently, sitting her on his thighs so he could look at her properly. “You’re not scared of me, baby girl?” he asked, his voice breaking with the weight of emotion he was holding back.

She shook her head hard, her silky hair bouncing as she did. “No. You are dada,” she said simply, her tone absolute.

Hunter swallowed. His throat felt dry. “Did Mama show you my pictures? Did she tell you about me?”

The little girl tilted her head curiously. “Pictures? Pictures are like cartoons, right, dada?” she asked, blinking her wide eyes.

Hunter almost laughed through the lump in his throat. She was so small, so innocent, her understanding of the world still wrapped in simple comparisons. Very smart. “Yes, baby. Pictures are like cartoons, but they don’t move.”

“Ohhhh, I know pictures!” she squealed, clapping her tiny hands together in excitement. “I draw pictures too!”

Hunter smiled and nodded, brushing her hair from her face. “So, did Mama show you my pictures?” he asked again gently.

The girl scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Nooo,” she said, distractedly playing with his big fingers, trying to curl them into shapes with her tiny hands.

His brows drew together. “So… you’ve never seen me before, and still you called me dada?” The question was half to himself. He really wanted to know why she was confident he was her dada. His chest ached as a thought crossed his mind. Could it be that she had been calling strangers that word too, searching for a father she had never known? “Do you… do you have another dada?” he asked cautiously, holding his breath.

Her lips trembled suddenly. Her big eyes welled with tears as if the mere suggestion wounded her. “No! No!” she shouted, shaking her head furiously. “You are dada.”

The sight of her trembling lips shattered him. Hunter immediately gathered her against his chest, hugging her tightly and stroking her small back gently. “Oh, baby, I’m your dada. Don’t cry. Dada’s here now.” His voice was thick and rough with emotion.

She sniffled against him, gripping his shirt in her tiny fists. “I love you, dada,” she said with all the certainty in the world. “I love mama too. But I miss dada. Don’t go away, dada. Pwess?”

Hunter froze. His entire world shifted with her words. His breath shook as he tightened his hold on her. She missed him. She claimed and accepted him without question. His little girl. His blood. His child.

“I won’t go away,” he promised hoarsely, kissing the top of her head. “Never again.”

After a moment, she squirmed out of his hold, her little legs carrying her to the door. “I will tell mama dada is back! Dada, dada, dada, dada…” she chanted happily as she ran out of the room with her small feet tapping the floor.

Hunter chuckled softly to himself, though his chest still felt heavy with emotions he can't describe. He stood and stretched, running a hand through his messy dark hair. Then he followed her slowly, his steps measured, his arms folded loosely across his chest as he stopped at the next doorway where his runaway woman still slept with zero worries.

Mirabella was still deep in sleep, her hair spread across the pillow, her lips parted so slightly. Her daughter was bouncing on her, shaking her awake with glee.

“Mama! Mama!” Rena giggled. “Dada is back! Mama, open your eyes, look!” Her laughter filled the room as she tugged at the blanket.

Mirabella groaned sleepily, her voice husky. “Rena, not now please. It’s weekend, let me sleep more,” she mumbled and turned, pressing her face deeper into the pillow.

“Mama! Look, my dada is here!” Rena insisted, her little fingers working determinedly to pull the covers away.

Mirabella sighed in exhaustion, catching her daughter and pulling her into her arms. She kissed the top of her head. “Baby, come here. Let’s sleep more. I know you miss your godfather, grandpa Owen, but you’ve never called him dada before.” She chuckled lightly, her voice groggy but tender.

Rena struggled in her arms to set herself free, slipping down from the bed with surprising speed and determination.

“Careful now, you…” Mirabella’s words cut off as her sleepy eyes finally focused on the huge figure in the doorway.

Her entire body went ice cold.

Her breath caught and her heart slammed painfully against her ribs.

“Jesus…” her voice broke, the blood draining from her face. “You…”

Fear coiled through her like an electric shock. The room spinned slightly even though she was still sitting and hadn’t moved from the bed.

Hunter stood there in the doorway, his tall figure filling the space, his arms folded casually but his presence anything but casual. His sharp eyes were locked on her, his expression unreadable.

Without a word to her, he bent down and picked Rena up when she tugged at his pants. “Rena baby,” his voice softened instantly, his tone reserved only for the little girl. “Go to your room, hmm? Dada wants to talk to mama. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes!” she chirped happily.

“Good girl,” he praised, kissing her cheek before setting her down on her feet. She scrambled out of the room, giggling and started chanting again, “Dada, dada, dada!”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Hunter slowly lifted his head, his gaze cutting into Mirabella. She was now standing at the side of the bed, her legs shaky, her breath uneven. He didn’t miss the fact that she wore only a sleeveless, singlet-like hip-length black top that clung softly to her figure. Her nipples were picking through her clothes. His eyes trailed slowly and deliberately, over every inch of her unapologetic. He also took note of her messy black hair that covered a part of her face. She was totally seductive even without trying.

Heat rose to her face, fear mixing with shame and anger, but she didn’t move. She just kept a watchful eye on him.

Finally, his lips curved into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. His voice came lowly dangerous.

“Well, if it isn’t my runaway woman…”