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violetmuses · 36 minutes ago

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lessons in love + two

authors note: lord, the way ya'll love this concept blows my mind. everyone and they mama, it feels like, has been waiting on this lil' meetup, so i just hope it doesn't disappoint. and yes....if you know me, know how i write, you know some stuff in here lays down foundations

words: 4k

masterlist

warnings: brief moments of angst. also, roman is still a dick.

Solana has learned to embrace the loneliness.

And perhaps it’s less an embrace, and more of a forced acceptance. Acknowledging something that’s unchanging and unmoving.

Over the years, she’s tried to make friends. Tried to be social. Especially after her mother’s murder, the loss of her best friend creating a large, gaping hole in her chest she thought actual friends her age could sort of help fill. Never entirely.

Never that.

But, for every attempt she made, every girl she managed to find some sort of connecting bridge of shared interest with, there became a new target.

A target for her father.

In those moments of his unbridled rage, where his heavy fist rained down on her, blow after blow, kick after kick until blood would sometimes spurt from her mouth, a threat would be made.

“And if you tell anyone, that new friend of yours is as good as dead! You hear me, you ungrateful bitch! Dead just like your fucking mother!”

And Solana believed him. Believed with everything in her that he would make good on his promise. That he would find a way to end the life of her friend. Of anyone she befriended. So, the little joy she received from connecting with other kids and teens as she got older was a pleasure she had to deprive herself of. Had to deny herself. Solana pulled away. Stopped interacting. Stopped trying. Stopped being.

With herself and by herself was the only option and has been for years.

Forced acceptance.

“Hey.”

Solana's heart thuds against her chest, her stomach tightening and dropping as she looks up from the sketchbook in front of her.

Striking blue eyes and a handsome face. Features perfectly symmetrical, thin lips pulled into a small smile. An almost identical snapshot seen in the likes of Abercrombie and Fitch ads.

He's so cute.

Solana struggles with conversation as it is, and the person before her doesn’t help with that one bit.

Austin Theory stands on the opposite side of the table, football team issued backpack slung over one shoulder, gaze landed directly onto her.

“H—hi,” she stammers. Solana first “met” Austin when they were in the same group during orientation weekend. And despite sitting next to each other at various points due to assigned seating, he never once said one word to her. Not that she said a word to him. Or, anyone really. No, Austin was too busy flirting with some of the other girls in the group. Blonde, brunette, hazel and blue eyed. Skinny. The kind of girls Solana would always see walking in packs in the hallway. Who always hung out with the jocks.

The popular girls, and Solana is many things, but popular has and never will be one of them.

So, for the life of her, she can’t understand what someone like him is doing approaching someone like her.

And, then it hits her.

She looks around the table, reaching for her textbook. “Do—do you need the table?” Without an answer, she reaches for her bag, preparing to load it up. “I can mo—”

“Move?” He finishes for her, chuckling quietly. “Now, why would I want that?” The surprises continue as he pulls out the chair opposite her, plopping down. “Then I wouldn’t be able to talk to you.”

Oh.

“Me?” She points to herself. This has to be some sort of joke. Why in the world would he ever want to talk to her? “Wh—”

“Sable, right?”

She shakes her head, borderline tempted to not correct him. “Umm, S—Solana.”

He sucks his teeth, making a sort of clicking sound. “That’s right.” Nodding to himself, she shifts under his gaze, his lazy smile returning. “Nice.”

Solana is almost certain her cheeks burn brighter than the red of her textbook. If she didn’t know for a fact that only celebrities are eligible, she’d swear she’s being Punk’d.

“I’ve seen you around, you know.” Her eyes widen, her chest tightening. “You’re so….quiet.”

It feels like he has another word he wants to use, but she’s still too stunned by the fact that he’s even speaking to her right now for her pick up on such things. “I dig it.”

“Oh?” The dumbest response that makes his smile widen and her embarrassment multiply.

“Yeah.” He nods, leaning over, Solana naturally inching back in her chair. “Maybe you and I could, uh, hang out sometime, yeah?”

What….the….hell?

The Punk’d thing seems more and more an option, Solana’s eyes darting around the library, as if searching for a camera crew or someone holding some type of recording device. She finds nothing but the boy across from her with bright blue eyes and a surprisingly friendly demeanor. At first glance, Solana had chalked Theory up as just being another pretty boy. A jock who lived for the limelight and praise. And, perhaps all that is still true along with the fact that he’s actually a nice guy.

If only she was allowed the space to see what that could look like. Where this could go.

A friendship.

“Maybe.” It’s the safest answer she can provide. Not a yes. Not a no. Just something in the middle.

An acceptable answer, clearly, as his smile widens yet again. “Cool.” Solana watches him stand up from the seat, adjusting his backpack. “I’ll see you around, Solange.”

It’s an interesting wrong name to use, one that makes her smile because it feels so innocent, nothing malicious. Nothing to bother correcting. He doesn’t wait for her response, just turns to walk away, Solana offering a small wave to his retreating form. “Bye….”

One of the most unexpected encounters she’s had since starting college, for sure, nothing beating the unexpected pairing of herself with Roman Reigns, of all people.

But, a nice one, nonetheless.

One that keeps that small smile on her face as she digs through her bag, pulling out her CD player and headphones. Some music needed to help her prepared for the arrival of Roman himself.

She can only hope that it goes as well and nice as her interaction with Austin.

Hopefully.

----------

It’s not hard to spot her.

She’s sitting at a table by herself, head down, pen in hand, focused on the notebook or whatever in front of her. Roman sighs, already dreading this whole thing, but there’s something even more irritating about where she decided to sit, for whatever reason.

Second floor, in the back, near the tables where few occupy. A "dead" area to most college students, the majority preferring to use the tables and computer area on the first and second floors. Rarely do kids bother climbing up three damn flights of steps if avoidable. But, not Solana.

Of fucking course not.

“Hey.” He greets, sighing when she jumps, dropping the pen, clearly startled.

This girl is so damn jumpy.

Roman drops his backpack on the table at the same time she sits up in the seat and removes her headphones, reaching to probably hit pause on the CD player sitting on the table.

“H–hi,” she stammers, moving to close her sketchbook, shoving it to the side. Roman has to bite back a smartass reply. A lot of things annoy him, passivity being near the top of the list, and this girl is the walking definition of passivity. “You’re—” She glances at the large clock on the wall behind him. “You’re early.”

He gives her a pointed look. “You want me to leave?”

Her eyes widen. “No, I just—” She stops, looking down, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “Sorry.”

Roman rolls his eyes and starts to pull his notebook and laptop out of his bag, laying them out in front of him when he notices she’s not moving. Still sitting there, looking down. “Solana.”

She jumps once more, and this time, Roman can’t hide his irritation.

“Why the fuck do you keep doing that?”

A noticeable wince and yet another, “I’m sorry...”

“Jesus Christ,” he curses, running his hand over his face. “Just forget it.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, and it’s unsurprising. She’s someone of few words unless it’s unnecessary contrition. However, something fucking weird and annoying flicks within him in sensing her guilt. And something else close to sadness. Like he hurt her feelings.

Why he picks up on that, or why it’s even something that he considers given he’s never been one to give a fuck about anyone outside of a few folks is beyond him.

But, he senses it.

He does.

Solana remains with her head and eyes down, quietly moving to put her CD player, headphones, and an album back in her bag. An album that catches his attention, Roman finding himself asking, “is it any good?”

At that, she looks up, brown meeting brown. “Huh?”

It takes a lot for him to bite back a smart ass reply as he gestures with his chin to the CD. “Is it any good?”

Why he's even asking her is yet another 404 file not found. He doesn't care. Not really. But, there's something preferable about her not looking so....sad and dejected like she was at his objectively rude tone.

Again, the why....is beyond him.

Solana looks down at said CD, fingers running over Usher’s name, written in gold lettering. She shakes her head, clearly thinking about her answer. “Yeah, it is.” He’s partially taken back when she actually follows up with a question of her own. “You....you like Usher?”

Roman shrugs, continuing to lay out the necessary books and items needed to get started. “A couple songs.” He wouldn’t call himself a fan, per se. Just someone who, as he said, likes a couple of his songs. And since the album released this past March, he’s had his cousins and Naomi on his ass about listening to the whole thing through versus the singles that have been dropped over the summer.

“Well, it’s….it’s really good,” she continues, Roman noticing the way the tension in her shoulders seems to melt, the way she maintains eye contact. Even the faintest hint of a smile on her face. “The—the latest single is petty good, too.”

“What is it?”

“It’s umm, it’s a duet with Alicia Keys.” Her cheeks suddenly redden, eyes darting down. Again. “Called My Boo.”

He makes a sound, acknowledging, “I think my cousin and his girlfriend were listening to that the other day.”

“I like it,” she offers, eyes shutting as she admonishes herself. “I’m sorry, you didn’t—”

“Alright, you gotta stop with all the fucking I’m sorry’s.” Because the fact that more have been offered to him in a less than ten minute timespan than what he’s received in his 19 years on this earth is quite insane to him.

She opens her mouth as if to say something—and he knows exactly what she’s about to say—when she stops herself, murmuring, “bad habit, I guess....”

“It is,” he confirms. “Doesn’t make sense to say sorry all the fucking time if you haven’t done anything.” She says something in a low voice, something he can’t make out. It almost sounds like it’s in a different language. “What’d you say?”

She looks up, eyes widening, something indecipherable flashing in her expression before she shakes her head. “Nothing.” Solana clears her throat, Roman slightly curious what she said but also with whatever that flash was. “We should, umm, we should get started?”

He wants to say something else, wants to push her on what she was going to say, but something stops him. Mostly because what does it matter anyway?

Knowing her in the little time that he has, it was probably just another “I’m sorry” or variation of it, and Lord knows he’s heard more than enough of that from her to last him a lifetime.

“Yeah,” he finally agrees. Roman watches as she reaches her in her bag and pulls out a book, spine and edges worn, colorful tabs and sticky notes poking out of the pages. “Damn.”

She looks over at him, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “I, umm, I marked sections I thought we could use.”

“So, you’ve read it already? All of it?”

Solana nods. “Several times.”

At that, he stills. “Seriously?” And without thinking about it, he asks, “why?” Roman doesn’t hate reading. Not at all. It’s formative and pertinent in the accumulation of knowledge, but reading a classic one time is more than enough for him. He can’t imagine reading it several times unless forced.

“It’s—it’s my favorite book,” she answers. That small smile makes a reappearance. “They’re filming the movie right now actually. There’s already a show—”

“The one from the nineties, right?” She nods, as he offers, “yeah, I saw something about that when I was looking up stuff for it. Figured I’d just watch that instead of reading it.”

She presses her lips together, as if readying to reply, only to stop herself. But, this time, Roman doesn’t ignore it. “What?”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Nothing.”

He shakes his head, pressing, “naw, tell me.”

It’s not that he cares. He doesn’t. Why should he? Roman just dislikes things that are unknown and unlabeled, and her now giving him a second instance of an unspoken truth doesn’t sit well with him. For whatever reason.

“It’s just….” She shifts in her seat, hands on the table as she fiddles with the pages of the book. “I think….to fully understand it, you should read the book.” As if believing her words to be offensive, she almost backtracks. “I mean, the show is really good and worth a watch, but I just think the source material will give you a better understanding. Not that you couldn’t understand just from watch—”

“Solana.” Roman has picked up on the undeniable fact that this girl is either not saying anything at all or everything at once. There is no in-between. “I get it.”

He does, and while he doesn’t fully agree, he can respect her take. Disagreement or not.

“Oh.” She seems surprised, like she was expecting some other sort of reaction. Like for him to be angry or offended, which he can’t exactly blame her. Roman is fully aware of his reputation. One he’s 1000% earned.

However, being overtly pissed with someone so small and….innocuous isn’t his thing. For some reason, Roman can’t really imagine anyone being overtly upset with the girl across from him. She’s the walking definition of innocence.

They transition into less talk of adaptations versus source material to identifying the main tenets of the assignment, subjects and topics that need to be covered as per the assignment rubric.

It’s not often that Roman is impressed, but there’s something that takes him back about how focused and able Solana is to break it all down. Section by section, she outlines potential views they can utilize. Points out the ease, or lack thereof, for both.

She doesn’t stammer. Not really. Only when her gaze lifts from the textbooks or notebooks that writes into, taking notes, documenting everything in her handwriting, neat and girly. When she has to look at him, or when she reaches across the table and her fingers accidentally graze against him. That’s when he sees more of her nervousness emerge, but outside of that, when she’s assignment and book focused, she’s in the zone. It’s abundantly clear how passionate about and just how much she loves this damn book. Enough to where she can step out of that hollow shell and into the light, somewhat of her personality shining through.

He feels like he sees more of her.

“Big Uce!”

Roman turns to his left, catching the way Solana jumps at the loud, obnoxious voice of his cousin.

Naomi sucks her teeth, hitting him on the arm. “Would you shut up, fool?” She shakes her head, arms crossed. “This is a damn library.”

“So?” Jimmy matches her energy, waving off her warning, looking around past the group of them that includes himself, Jey, Bayley, and Naomi. “Ain’t nobody here. They all on the first floor.”

“Yeah, why ya’ll up here anyway?” Jey asks, tossing up the apple in hand.

Roman sighs, leaning back in his chair, shirt rising up a bit. He put on about 15lbs of muscle over the summer break, and it shows in the way some of his clothes have started to fit a bit more snug. “This was where she was.”

Gesturing over to Solana brings the focus of the group onto her, earning that blushing, flustered expression. Roman seeing more of that earlier, timid, reserved version of herself reappear, something about that irritating to him.

His damn cousins have the worst fucking timing.

“Hey, lil bit,” Jimmy greets, welcoming himself in the seat beside Solana. Jey sitting on the other side of her on the edge of the table. “Sola, right?”

She hesitates. “S—Solana.”

At that, Bayley’s interest piques. “That’s Spanish.”

Solana nodes, shifting in her seat, as if trying to maximize the space between herself and the twins. “Y—yeah, my uhh, my mom was Mexican.”

Roman most definitely takes note of the was. Past tense. No longer here.

Huh.

Maybe they have more in common than he realized.

Bayley says something in Spanish, Solana nodding, responding in the same language. She gestures to the four of them, clearly offering introductions.

“Aye, now we got three native speakers in the group!” Jimmy applauds, clapping and rubbing his hands together.

“Jimmy.” Naomi closes her eyes, the bright orange tips of her nails a contrast to her deep complexion as she rubs her temple. “You don’t speak Spanish.”

“Yes, I do!”

“Being able to order your meal in Spanish from Taco Bell does not count, dumbass.”

“The hell it don't!”

In the midst of questioning just why he puts up with his cousins, Roman catches the way Solana covers her mouth, clearly trying—and failing—to hide her laughter.

For some reason, whatever reason, it makes him smile. Small. Subtle. So subtle. But there.

It’s there.

Naomi gives Jimmy the hand, speaking directly to Solana. “Please ignore him. He’s fine as hell but dumb as hell, too.”

At that, Jey snorts, taking a bite out of his apple, but not before adding, “sure is.”

Bayley rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If he’s dumb, you’re dumber, ding dong.”

It’s the comment that breaks the camel’s back. Laughter tumbles out of Solana’s mouth, and it’s a sound that makes something calm settle in Roman’s stomach. There’s something nice about her laugh. Soothing, almost. Especially as her hand drops from her mouth, revealing her smile.

He’d thought before that she's pretty, but there’s something beautiful about her in that state. Seeing her smile.

Something breathtaking. However, it’s quickly washed away and replaced with that other side of her. Quiet, shy, and clearly insecure. She shifts back into being overtly apologetic. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Girl, what are you apologizing for?” Naomi cuts her off, shaking her head. “It’s—oh my God, you like Usher?” Her eyes landing on the album that sits besides Solana’s notebook redirects her attention and sentence.

“Who doesn’t like Usher?” Bayley says, Naomi reaching for the album, the biggest smile on her face.

“He is fine as hell.”

“Hey!”

“Boy, be quiet,” Naomi dismisses, looking back at Solana. “You got good taste.”

Solana’s blush returns. “Th—thanks.”

Bayley then asks. “Who else do you listen to?”

“Everything.” It’s a surprisingly quick and seemingly easy answer for someone who struggles with just basic sentences. “I love Christina Aguilera though, and Alicia Keys.”

“Make that excellent taste,” Naomi revises her previous statement, gesturing between herself and Bayley. “You need to hang out with us sometime.”

“Yeah, Soso.” Jey adds, Jimmy nodding in agreement. “You seem like you’d fit right on in with us.”

“Don’t insult her like that,” Roman speaks up, breaking his silence, Solana’s gaze switching to him. “And, that’s not her name.”

“She don’t mind,” Jimmy ignores him, looking at her. “Do you, Soso?”

“Ya’ll are irritating,” Bayley shakes her head. “Ignore them, girl. We suspect they were crack head babies.”

“Better than being—”

“Finish that sentence, and I’ll kick your ass right here and right now,” Bayley threatens. Roman chuckles. She’d make good on it, too. Since they were kids, Bayley has always been the one to always back up what she says. If she makes a threat, trust and believe she’ll make good on it.

It’s one of the things he likes about her.

A hard feat considering there’s few things he likes in life, even lesser when it pertains to people.

Naomi reaches in her Juicy Couture purse, handing over her hot pink, bedazzled Nokia. “Put your number in. We’ll text and make plans.”

Roman can see it. The hesitation that appears in Solana’s face. Reluctance. Nervousness, almost. It’s similar to when he’d asked her before for her phone number.

“Her phone isn’t working.” What causes him to speak up, to answer for her, he isn’t quite sure. Not even a little. “Email works better.”

“Oh.” Naomi frowns, pulling her phone back to her before shrugging. “That’s cool, too.” She motions to Solana’s open notebook. “Can I…..”

Shaking her head, as if still in shock from Roman speaking for her, Solana grabs a pen and reaches both that and her notebook to Naomi.

“Give her my email, too,” Bayley instructs as Naomi writes away.

“Ours too.”

“Shut up,” Roman mutters.

However, Naomi most certainly writes down everyone’s email, including the twins. She starts to hand the notebook back to Solana only to stop mid-movement. “Oh my God, ya’ll are meeting like every Wednesday, right?” And before Solana can answer, Naomi is already jumping the gun. “You should join us then.”

Offering the answer and clarification clearly missing, Bayley explains, “we watch the guys practice every Wednesday, since our cheer practice is in the morning.”

Jimmy joins the persuasion party. “Yeah, come on, Soso, what you doing after this? Why don’t you come now?”

Roman’s focus is on Solana the whole time. Watching the way she shuffles between confusion, excitement, trepidation, reluctance, and finally, a sort of regret.

“Sorry, I, umm, I have plans this evening.”

With who?

It’s the strangest, most out of pocket thing to cross his mind, but the exact thing he thinks following her almost nervous answer.

Naomi frowns. “Damn. That’s okay. There’s always next week.”

There’s that flash again, something Roman is almost certain is fear, but why?

That’s what gets him. It shouldn’t, because why does it even matter? It’s not like he cares.

The twins jump off the desk, looking at the clock on the wall behind the table. “Damn, we better get headed to practice, or you know Coach Booker gon’ have all our asses.”

“Sure will,” Bayley agrees, a sort of satisfaction in her voice and face. “Solana, make sure you email us, alright?”

She nods, that small smile returning. “O—okay.”

“See you round, Soso!” Jey calls out, the rest of the group walking off, heading towards the steps.

“Stop calling her that,” Roman warns, standing up, having almost completed packing his backpack. Looking over, he sees Solana stand as well, two things catching his interest. Once again, he’s taken back by just how small she is. He’d be surprised if she’s even 5’0. But, beyond that, there’s something that makes him pause seeing the wince on her face as she stands. Like she’s in pain.

His voice is even, asking, “you alright?”

Her head snaps up, eyes widening slightly. “Y—yeah, of course.”

Roman is a lot of things. Intelligent and perceptive near the top of that list, if not at the top, which is why he knows that she’s not being honest.

She’s lying.

But, why?

However, before he can think about it more, can maybe even press, for reasons beyond him, Solana mutters out a quiet goodbye before turning on her heel and almost rushing out. That’s another thing. Why is this girl always in a damn rush?

A rush that, in glancing down at the desk, makes Roman realize she’s left something behind.

Her sketchbook. The thing he saw her drawing in when he first arrived.

Roman starts to go after her, but the watch on his wrist reminds him that doing so will only make him late for practice, and the last thing he feels like hearing is Coach B's loud ass mouth scolding him like he’s a fucking child.

Fuck that.

Roman grabs the sketchbook, unzips his bag and stuffs it in there.

He’ll just have to email her and arrange to give it back to her tomorrow or something.

Heading down the steps and out the library, confused but also not allowing himself to think too much about the fact that the initial irritation he had about having to meet with Solana in the first place doesn’t accompany the thought of seeing her again, sooner than their agreed upon Wednesday meetings.

Not at all.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #angst #❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹#dark themes #please be safe #roman reigns x oc #fanfiction #college au #so good!#wwe #wwe fanfiction #i just 🥺🥺🥺🥺#roman reigns x original character #reblog reblog reblog

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violetmuses · 2 days ago

Text

fears

authors note: in the initial oneshot, solana was six weeks pregnant. cody's attack took place two weeks after said oneshot, placing her at eight weeks. as of this oneshot, solana and the kids have been in american samoa with roman for almost a month, so she's just about three months pregnant.

also, this is roman's pov.

masterlist

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff

The feel of her hand, so much smaller than mine, stills. When walking alongside her becomes me standing almost in front of her, her small feet planted into the ground, submerged into and under the sand.

Frowning, I allow the surfboard under one arm to fall onto that same sand. Crouching down so I’m eye to eye with her, the sight of her frowning makes my own deepen. My hand reaches to push back some of the curls that have escaped the high bun Solana put her hair into earlier this morning.

“What’s wrong, Kaydence?”

Her mouth shifts into a pout as she points to the water behind me. I look over my shoulder to see the sight of a seagull flying over the cerulean waves that slap against the sand. Glancing back over at her just in time to see her shaking her head. “It’s so big….”

The lowest chuckle, my thumb gently brushing over her cheek. “That’s the ocean, Kay. Big and limitless. No beginning. No end.”

Her frown returns, her voice soft and unsure. “What if we get lost?”

My small smile is perhaps not as comforting as I’d like it to be, but there’s something so innocent about her question. Something that just makes sense for her. “We won’t, Kay. I promise.”

Her lips press together as she looks down and then up at me, whispering, “I’m scared.”

A quiet sigh as I stroke her cheek once more. “I know.” A fear that extends to all large bodies of water. Solana said even when she put Kay and Kaiden in those classes for babies where they learn how to swim, Kaydence screamed the whole time, so inconsolable to where they had to stop. Kaiden did fine. Makes sense. He seems like he goes with the flow and seeks adventure.

Like me.

Kaydence, however, is the opposite. Quiet and passive, she prefers the silent and calm.

Like Sola.

“It’s okay to be scared,” I inform. She lifts her head, eyes on me, conveying an unspoken, really? “Everyone is scared of something.”

Her eyes flash with something. “What are you scared of?”

It’s not often that I don’t know what to say in a situation. How to respond. I’ve always been quick with it. With most things. And, maybe this is no different. Maybe I know exactly how to respond. What the answer is.

Doesn’t mean I’ll say it.

Especially not to her.

“A couple of things.” It’s a cop-out of an answer, but an answer, nonetheless. “But, sometimes doing what I’m scared of helps my fears to go away.”

Another glance of interest in her brown eyes. My eyes. “Really?”

I nod. “Really.”

She presses her lips together, pouting slightly, looking away. I take her in. She looks so much Solana when she does that. The spitting image. “You won’t let the water get me?”

Another chuckle, my hand shifting to the back of her neck, gentle and careful. “Never, sweetheart. Never.”

And finally, the return of her small smile, her hand tightening once again around mine.

I hadn’t even realized she never let go.

Getting her into the water is a bit of challenge, but an expected one. I have to hold her, her small arms around my neck, holding onto me, partially listening to my words of guidance, partially too into her head.

She gets that from Solana. That almost perfect balance of anxiety and attention. The goal, however, is for the latter to take the front seat until the former is no longer in the backseat.

And, it feels like a small victory when I’m able to get her to at least sit on the board. Her anxiety is palpable but not too consuming to where it prevents her from staying upright. I make sure to keep one hand on the board to keep her above water, the same way her hand remains wrapped around my wrist.

But, the more the water begins to drench and saturate, light waves slapping against the both of us, I see it, the shift from uncertainty to curiosity. See the way she gently reaches her little fingers into said water, making the smallest of circles. The way she giggles and looks over at me, announcing, “it’s so pretty!”

“Just like you,” I murmur, my own voice filled with something. “Just like your mom.”

And just like Solana, the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks, her complexion more tanned due to the time spent out in the sand. “Thank you.”

I don’t allow myself too long to think about the missing last part of that response. Or, why it even feels like it should be included in the first place.

Because it’s true.

Attention, however, is entirely focused on the task at hand when Kaydence shocks the hell out of me and is able to push past her fear to lay down on the board, her arms moving in the water, shifting it forward just enough for the movement to register. For her to realize what she’s doing.

The loudest, happiest gasp. She looks over at me, my hand still holding the board from the back for safety measures. “I did it!”

It’s impossible to not return her smile. “You sure did, sweetheart.”

Delight and merriment paints her face as she sits up on said board, reaching for me. It’s an easy thing to accept her back into my arms, my lips pressed against her wet temple. “Good job, honey.”

We’re barely back on land when she wiggles against me, clearly eager to be upright and on the ground, largely due to the sight of the latest arrival.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!”

Solana’s light laughter is audible as she bends over, welcoming Kaydence who runs in her direction. “What, what, what?”

Kaydence waits until Solana has picked her up, clearly both uncaring of how Kay’s wet body soaks her dress. “I got in the water and surfeded!”

Solana gasps, but it’s not the feigned one. The type you do with kids for the sake of not wanting them to think you’re uncaring. She looks over at me, as if questioning what was just said.

I nod, confirming. “She did.”

Solana’s eyes flash with something unspoken but understandable. The conversation we’d had about Kaydence fear of water. What she’d told me.

“We’ve tried. Myself…Cody. She’s just too scared.”

I have to push thoughts of him away for the sake of maintaining my temper. Especially in front of them.

She may have been scared then, but not anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Solana congratulates, breaking from her shock as she squeezes a giggling Kaydence, kissing her cheek. “My brave little girl.”

Kaydence hugs Solana back before announcing, “I gotta tell brother!”

It’s the way she refers to Kaiden as brother. I gotta ask Solana where that came from.

Solana lowers her back to the ground, pointing to the house. “He’s in there with Ava and Fetu.”

And just like that, Kaydence goes from happy to ecstatic. I see the way she takes a step, clearly headed for the house, only to make a beeline in my direction. It's a natural thing to drop to one knee as she throws her body against mine. The gesture easily becoming one of the single greatest moments to be forever held and remembered. The feel of her in my arms, the way she pulls back can cranes her head up, smiling brightly and beautifully. "Thank you!"

Innocent. Pure. Mine.

My daughter.

"You're welcome, Kaydence."

It's such a simple gesture. A hug. But, it means something.

It means everything.

She pulls away once more, turning back around. "Guys!" Kaydence starts racing towards the house, shouting, “I got in the water!”

Solana’s smile remains stapled, focused on Kay's retreating form. I walk over to her, taking in her relaxed appearance. No makeup, hair pulled back, thin sundress flowing from the light breeze.

The bruising on her face has healed up nicely, but slight discoloration remains, highlighted under the intense Samoan sun.

It’s when I’m in close enough proximity that she looks up at me, informing, “Kaiden wants to surf with you too, today. If you have time.”

An unnecessary request of sorts. I’d already planned to take him out.

“Of course.” It’s a bit of an involuntary action, not intentional and certainly not planned. The way my hand moves to the front of her dress, the water on my palms sticking to the cotton of her dress that settles against the small swell of her stomach. I’m not sure what I expect her to do or to say. I just know that when she doesn’t say anything, even as she keeps her gaze on me, bottom lip dipping just enough, as if preparing to say something, that her deviation surprises me.

The way she moves her hand over mine.

And doesn’t move it.

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