Her voice was soft, patient, but her little fingers drummed against her thigh like she was counting down the seconds.

On the floor by the dresser, Ace had upended the basket of bows entirely. Bright ribbons and clips spilled across the carpet like scattered candy. She sat in the middle of it, holding a glittery pink bow up to her own head, grinning with all her dimples showing.

The bedroom was a familiar chaos—soft, golden, and full of tiny voices calling your name.