The Storm

Chapter 2

Sierra

"Mommy?" A tiny hand grabs onto mine, pinching my skin. "Mommy?" That sounds more like a sob this time.

My eyes fly open, meeting Vienna's in the dark. "What's wrong, cupcake?" I want to pick her up, only to notice I can't even sit up to do it because Atlas has an arm wrapped around my stomach, his hand resting right on one of my boobs.

However, I still manage to reach my arms out enough to pick her up and lie her down on the tiny space next to me. I press my ass a bit more against his front, earning a slight groan. At the same time, the hand he held on my boob slides down to my waist, holding my hips steady so I'd stop moving. 

"Chweesbawl kicked me," she cries, burying her head right into my chest. I assume Atlas hears Vienna talk, because in a matter of seconds, he scoots a bit further away, making space so I can lie her between us.

"Why did Allie do that?"

Vienna shrugs, continuing to sob right into my chest. "She don't love me."

I kiss the top of her head, stroking a hand through the thin blonde strands. "Allie loves you, cupcake. I promise."

Ever since I have two daughters, I'm glad I grew up with a brother only. Bonus points, Cody is five years older than me. Although it was quite boring sometimes, at least I never thought he didn't like me because he accidentally kicked me while being fast asleep. He always cared for me, understood that I was younger and pretty much barely understood what certain things meant.

Like getting kicked in the middle of the night. If that ever were to happen, I'm sure it would have been me kicking him than the other way round. And he for sure would have known I didn't mean to do that.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, cupcake?" I'm not even sure where she got that name from, or who gave it to her...but it happened. I'm pretty sure Atlas is the cause of it, again. I vaguely remember him saying something like Vienna would need a food-based name as Allie's nickname is cheeseball.

I don't hear what Vienna says next as I'm focused on figuring out what the sounds coming from somewhere in this house are. They sound like a whimper, sobs maybe? Definitely some sound made of frustration.

Since Vienna is now placed right between me and Atlas, I have a great view on him, and as it seems, he's hearing the whimpers as well. I can barely make out his expression through the dark, but I feel the frown.

"Is that Taco or Allie?" he asks like I'd have an answer for him. It doesn't even matter because it only takes him a second to get up from the bed and practically run across the hall.

"Chweesbawl okay?" Vienna asks, nuzzling her head closer against my collarbones. Unlike Allie at the age of two, Vienna finds it a bit harder to form sentences, but I suppose a two-year-old isn't really expected to talk like they've been around for a good long while.

"She's fine, cupcake," I assure her, though judging by the time it takes Atlas to come back, I'm not sure I am convinced of it.

Our bed is big enough for six grown adults to sleep in it, so if Allie were to cry over being alone in her bed, Atlas could just get her over here. Or she would've come, like Vienna did. Which means something is off, and I really don't like not knowing what's going on.

By the time Atlas comes back into the bedroom, Vienna is fast asleep in my arms, making a few sounds as she dreams. It might sound stupid, but these little sounds happen to be the cutest I've ever heard. Or watching her face twitch at whatever happened in her dream...too cute.