Emberwood Walking and the sky keeps falling down

Taki seemed to trust his judgment, which he appreciated silently. As he went on, she asked him a question that triggered something of a nerve. She leaned back from him, and he blinked, immediately missing the feeling of her touch. He breathed sharply through his nose, unsure of how to answer her. The question was innocent. She couldn't know. Nobody did.
He blinked again, exhaling through his mouth slowly. There was deep, terrible pain there. He tried to focus on the now. She wasn't asking if he had children, just if he wanted them. He made a face, smiling in an unsure, scrunched way. I'm not sure, he answered truthfully. He paused for a moment before continuing, keeping his mouth open, looking for words. Then, he deflected. I don't know how to handle kids, honestly. It's been a while, he answered in a rather typical, non-answering way.
He recalled loving a little girl named Juniper. He remembered giving her a nickname. He remembered her face, her eyes. The look of despair on her face when he had told her that Aphrodite had died. She once asked him if he would leave them there, at Whitebark. Instead, her family took her away from him.
He swallowed. Taikon knew she might probe. He was okay with it.