Page 92 of Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

“You ready to go home now? See your papa, and your uncles, Raven.” My eyes move between hers. “Rora?”

She smiles, squeezing my cheeks until my lips are pinched. “And my bestest friend?”

A small chuckle leaves me, but with it comes pain in my ribs.

“Ready, Daddy?”

My eyes canvas the area once more, and I pull out my phone to check the time.

Two hours late.

I give Zoey a little shake and she laughs, wrapping her hands around my neck as I lift her from her feet and head back for the car.

“How about we go see a movie and then we go home?” I ask her. “Does that sound like fun?”

“Yes!”

I get her buckled in and drive us to the movie theater, but the second the SUV is in park, Zoey’s eyes close.

Only then do the events of tonight hit me.

I don’t know what I expected, what I had hoped for.

That might be a lie.

I’ve spent almost three and a half years hating Mallory.

First for leaving and breaking a part of me I never meant to give to her, then for hiding my daughter from me, and later down the line, when I no longer gave a single shit about her myself, I hated her for our daughter.

How dare she abandon our little girl.

The second she asked to see her, my instincts told me no, fuckin’ never, but the guy she left behind was confused, and he and the father I am now, who doesn’t understand how she could leave, blended together. Millions of questions ran through my head.

What if she didn’t want to leave me, but was forced?

What if she never planned to give Zoey away, but felt helpless?

What if she did what she did for our little girl?

What if it was honor and selflessness that took her from me, from us?

A decision a Brayshaw would make?

If there was a chance, even the smallest of one, what kind of father would I be if I didn’t try and take it, if I didn’t try to give my daughter a mother she deserves?

Mine was taken from me. I could never take hers from her.

Not that Mallory gives a shit, she didn’t even have the guts to tell me she wouldn’t be here.

With a deep breath, I pull from the parking lot, intending to head home, but end up driving around for who knows how long.

Maybell is sitting on the porch when I turn onto the property, but as she sees me she stands and walks to the edge of the driveway.

I slow to a stop, rolling down my window when she makes her way to it.

“Miss Maybell, kinda cold out tonight to be sitting on the porch.”

Her eyes are heavy with understanding.

She was waiting for me.

“Tough day, boy?”

I’m unable to hold in the frown that takes over, and she gives a sad smile, her hand coming up to touch my cheek.

“Go on,” she whispers. “Get that baby girl tucked in bed.”

I nod, waiting until she’s inside the house with the door closed and roll the rest of the way down the road to do just that.

Zoey wakes up as I carry her into the house, and I’m surprised when there’s no one sitting around in the living room.

“Baby’s sleeping, Daddy?” she whispers with a yawn.

“Yeah, Zo, I think everyone is sleeping. Let’s give you a quick bath since you’re awake now, okay? Get you nice and warm for your bed.”

She nods, shifting in my arms.

I set her down on her little stool in the bathroom and run the warm water, adding a few bubbles so she doesn’t get too cranky and help her inside.

As I start washing her hair she begins to sing, “wash, wash, the baby... wash, wash the baby.”

I grin and she smiles, too, blowing at the bubble in front of her. “That’s a good song.”

She yawns, tilting her head back and closing her eyes so I can rinse the soap out. “I’m gonna sing it to my bestest friend.”

I grab her hand so she can stand and lift her from the bath, wrapping a towel around her. “I think that’s a good idea. Raven will love that song.”

I carry her to her room and help her into pajamas.

She grabs the little brush from her dresser and runs it over to me, and I gently comb through the blonde curls, and with each swipe, my chest tightens.

She may never know where her curls come from or that the golden shine in her hair isn’t only from mine.

I stop brushing and turn her in my arms, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Want to bring your pillow and blanket and sleep in Daddy’s bed?”

She shakes her head, glancing at her own. “My train and my bunny and my other toys missed me, see.”

On her bed, there must be six stuffed animals along with her favorite one, the stuffed train Maddoc had ordered for her when she was first set to come home.