-In which, despite Indigo and Bucky's shattered and bruised state, their love for each other is the anchor that prevents them from completely crumbling.
Mature Content 18+
[Book Two]
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2 Months Later...
"Okay, Gracie James, you be a good girl for Auntie Nat and Unkie Stevey, alright? Mommy loves you and I'll see you in the morning," Indigo said warmly into her phone.
"I wuve you, mommy," Gracie's soft voice replied.
"Alright baby, now pass the phone to Unkie Stevey," Indigo requested gently.
Amidst some playful giggles, Steve's voice came through, reassuring. "She'll be fine, Indigo. We've got movies lined up and a pizza feast planned."
Indigo sighed heavily, feeling the weight of being away from Gracie for the first time since her birth. She didn't like it, but there were things that needed her attention—cleaning the apartment and catching up on work for the lab couldn't wait.
"No candy and bedtime is at 7:30," Indigo firmly stated into her phone.
"How about two pieces of candy and bedtime at 8:30?" Steve's voice replied, accompanied by faint giggling in the background.
"Steve, I swear if I pick up my daughter tomorrow and she tells me anything about candy or staying up late, I will kick your ass," Indigo retorted, pushing herself off the kitchen counter where she leaned.
She heard boos in the background, unmistakably Nat's doing. Indigo couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Fine, one piece of candy and bedtime at 8."
"Did you hear that? One piece of candy and bedtime at 8!" Steve announced enthusiastically, prompting squeals of delight and laughter in response.
"Okay, go have fun, but make sure she sleeps in her own bed," Indigo instructed with a smile audible in her voice.
Gracie had started having nightmares, and Indigo felt helpless in comforting her. Each night, after waking from these frightful dreams, Gracie would silently seek solace in Indigo's bed, curling up beside her mother for comfort.
Indigo attempted to talk to Gracie about the nightmares, but the little girl remained tight-lipped, only conveying that they were about something scary. The weight of concern pressed on Indigo's mind; her daughter, at just two years old, was plagued by fears she couldn't understand or assuage.
It wasn't just the nightmares that troubled Indigo. She had noticed other changes in Gracie—heightened sensitivity to loud noises and an uncanny ability to heal minor injuries in mere seconds. These developments both perplexed and concerned Indigo deeply. She couldn't shake the worry about what might come next for her daughter.
Indigo sighed heavily as she hung up the phone and placed it on the kitchen counter. The apartment was in disarray—toys strewn across the living room floor, Gracie's clothes haphazardly scattered about. Her laptop screen glowed with unanswered emails and unfinished spreadsheets, reminders of the work waiting for her attention.
