In the wee hours of the morning, a scream ripped through the cabin of the sailboat and crackled in the air above deck where Laura and Remington had been sound asleep. It was a sound that had become as familiar as it was gut-wrenching since Sophie had been wrested from the clutches of Julian Castoro. Instantly, the pair were on their feet hurtling towards the stairs, nearly knocked off their feet when first Sophie then Livvie burst onto the deck.
"Phie! Phie, wait!" Livvie scrambled after her stumble-running sister, both parents on her heels.
It had been this way from the beginning, the very day Sophie had arrived on the Steele's doorstep, a traumatized, terrified three-year-old who'd heard her mother's murder carried out as she'd been secreted away. Although just a little more than three herself, it was Livvie who was first to her sister when the nightmares arrived, often breaking down into torrents of tears herself, her sister's pain too much for her young heart to bear. Neither her protectiveness nor her empathy had changed in the intervening years.
She was unprepared when Sophie hit the deck on her hand and knees, gasping frantically for a clean breath of air.
"Phie!" She dropped to her knees beside her sister, reaching around to embrace her. "It's okay," she assured, "You're okay." A split second later, Laura kneeled before the girls. It took only a glance to see the wild look in Sophie's eyes, that she'd felt on more than one occasion in the past, beginning at near the age Sophie was now.
"Remington…" It was all she needed to say, understanding registering with him immediately. Reaching down, he slipped an arm around Livvie's waist and easily lifted the girl to her feet.
"Come, come, a stor," he urged softly. "Your mother needs a bit of time alone with your sister." Her footfalls were heavy, looking back over her shoulder at her beloved sister, clearly reticent to leave her, but with a bit of finesse, he managed to get her back down in the cabin, where she fell apart.
"It's my fault, Da," she sobbed, "It's all my fault. If I hadn't—"
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Shhhh. Shhhh." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "The only ones responsible are a twisted criminal and his equally deranged son who'd spent years plotting their vengeance on a girl they blamed for their miserable lives, although she was little more than a toddler when Castoro was locked away for his myriad of transgressions. If anything, you saved Sophie." She reached around his neck and tucked herself closer, shaking her head.
"If I hadn't convinced her—"
"They would've found another way," he cut her off to assure. "Have you any idea how thankful your mother and I are it was you that was there for her? Your resourcefulness saved her. Don't you forget that."
"But—"
"No buts, Livvie Bee. Sophie has known from the first moment you met your devotion to and love for her. She doesn't blame you and if she knew you blamed yourself, it would make it all the harder for her to find her way back to us. She needs your strength now, more than ever. Do you think you could do that for her? Hmmm?"
"I would do anything for Phie," she whispered the vow, sitting back and swiping at her eyes.
"Which well she knows." He pressed another kiss to her head. "Now, try to get some sleep, knowing Sophie's safe for the evening." She nodded her head, shakily, climbing back into the bunk she'd left to pursue her terrified sister. She watched with surprise as her father hoisted himself into the top bunk across from her and above Holt, then tucked his long, lanky frame into the small space.
"Da?" She didn't need to put her question into words.
"I suspect your mother will want to keep Sophie close the remainder of the evening. They'll need the bed."
"Da?"
"Yes, a stor?"
"I didn't mean what I said earlier."
"I know, as does your mother. Sleep, Livvie Bee. I'm counting on you to lift Sophie's spirits tomorrow."
"I will," she promised.
"I know. It's what will make you a wonderful sister to the little one when it's born…"