Reign of Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #3)(20)

“By the way, security for a social worker, huh?”

“Security for the little girl I protect day and night.”

“When you’re not posing as a social worker and dragging other girls hours away from their homes and dropping them in new ones?”

Her eyes narrow. “Some would say I brought you home, not drug you from your home.”

Can’t quite argue with that. They are my home more than anything else ever was. “Some would be right then, wouldn’t they?”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask me, so I hold eye contact until she can no longer keep it in. “Why would he... why would they bring you here? Why would they allow you near her at all?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

She frowns after them, a deep sigh leaving her. “I worried this would happen. The day I read your file I thought it, but the day I met you...” She trails off, her eyes tightening at the edges. “At the school with the principal who clearly cared for you even though you were a brat, how Ravina spoke to you and how you handled her.” I tense at the mention of my mom’s name. “Your overall attitude and the look in your eye when you spoke to me. Everything about you was... refreshing. I knew it in my gut. I warned him you’d be everything they never knew. That made you dangerous for them, for this world.” She looks to me. “But at the end of the day, we all want something we can’t have.”

I fight not to frown.

What the fuck does that mean?

Her features soften some as she asks, “Which one?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“I—” she cuts herself off but decides to keep going. “I don’t,” she admits.

My brows pull in at her abashed tone.

“It was in my contract.” She audibly swallows. “In exchange for caring for her, I wasn’t allowed to look for or ask anything about them or their world.”

“You wanted to care for her?”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to.” She stares at me head-on.

My eyes narrow.

“You can try to read me, but I told you before, I was somewhat like you once. I can hide what I want from who I want.”

“Yet here you stand giving more than you realize.”

“Who said I don’t realize?” she draws.

I scoff. Right.

I look to the boys.

Zoey tries to push Royce inside the dollhouse, but he makes himself fall onto the grass and Zoey throws her head back, laughing at him.

She bends and hits his chest with the palm of her hands before climbing across his body and inside, where the other two must already be.

“Who were you about to call?” I ask, assuming she won’t answer.

She does. “Rolland.”

“In the contract?”

She turns away, moving for the patio set that allows her to hide back, but keep an eye on them all the same, so I follow, dropping into a chair.

“You shouldn’t judge what you don’t know.”

“I judge what I do know, and I know Captain’s daughter is here with you instead of at home with him, where she belongs.”

A playful growl catches our attention and we look over.

Captain has Zoey on his shoulders as he chases Royce around while Maddoc leans against the little house with a smile. A real smile.

Not a smirk or a grin. Eyes open and loving and on his niece.

As always, he knows when I have him in sight, and his attention shifts to me.

A thought clouds his features, resented anger and dare I say pain seeping through. The smile is washed away instantly, but the corner of his lip tips up the slightest bit.

It’s forced.

The same beat-up expression is on Royce’s face, but the moment my eyes hit his, he licks his lips and looks away.

Cap offers a reassuring smile, but his attention is quickly caught by the little one now calling on them to follow her, as it should be.

“Hu-mon, hu-mon.” She laughs. “I make it, I make it.”

My brows pull in.

“What’d you make, Zo?” Cap asks her, tickling her sides.

She runs faster.

“Hu-mon, Daddy!” she says dramatically, making me smile.

She stops and rushes back to him, grabs hold of his fingers and drags him along.

“She learned how to shoot a basket,” Maria says sadly.

My eyes slice to hers, but she only continues to smile warmly at Zoey. “She watches his games all the time, we have them all on video. He’s her favorite show. Her favorite bedtime story. Favorite everything.”

My chest aches, and I can’t even look at them as they approach the little court.

“You and everyone involved are fucked up individuals.” Her eyes reluctantly meet mine. “You think he or his brothers wouldn’t have wanted to be the first to show her that? I bet Captain has laid in bed playing out the entire fucking thing in his head. What he’d say, how he’d explain the use of her wrist in a way for her to understand. How she should stand, what she should focus on. Of all the things, this is one I know he hoped to have for himself. Her first basket.”

Maria’s tears catch me off guard, but I don’t show it. “I know,” she rasps. “I tried to avoid it, but she just wanted to be like him. She kept saying she wanted to show him, cried for a ball, so I got her one, but then she cried for the basketball hoop. I couldn’t deny her. She’s not even three and she saw, just from watching his game film, how he loved the sport. She wanted to play too.”