Twisted Hearts

Greta leaned her head against my chest and curled her hand around my thumb. It was something she did often, holding on to our fingers as if she needed the additional touch to feel protected

she whispered, peering up at me before she opened her tiny arms. “Want cuddles.”

Cuddles. I smiled wryly and picked her up. She snuggled against my chest like a cat and I wrapped my arms around her as she huddled on my lap. She was tiny for a two-year-old, and so sensitive and quiet that it brought out my protective side.

Hugh Hefner on all of us.”