Maddox

by Lisa Helen Gray

  I laugh, rubbing a hand over my stomach when the baby pushes down again. “I don’t think anyone could be as bad as my dad. I have to fill that hole up now.”

  He grins, his gaze going to mine. “I own a construction business. I’m good at what I do. And I don’t mind helping. I’ve done this before.”

  “You have kids?” I ask. I’m surprised. I’ve not lived here long, but I would have thought I’d have seen him with one by now.

  He pales, shaking his head. “God, no,” he blurts out, and I flinch. He grimaces, letting out a groan. “Not that kids are bad. They just scare me.”

  “You seem good with Jasmine,” I tell him softly, trying not to laugh at his expression.

  He shrugs. “She’s a good kid.”

  My smile spreads now. “She is.”

  At a loss for words, he takes another look around the room. “My offer is there. I’ll get my dad to come and help me with the carpet tomorrow, so it’s done as quickly as possible. I’ll just throw this together then. My niece’s room didn’t take us long. Once I got there,” he adds, smirking.

  I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, giving him a nod. “If you’re sure, then I’d appreciate it. But let me give you something for helping.”

  His eyes darken as his gaze runs over my body, causing me to shiver. His posture changes to show more swagger and confidence, as he opens his mouth then closes it, shaking his head as if to dismiss his thoughts. “Do you bake?”

  Um, okay. That was random, but I answer anyway. “I do. Do you like cakes?”

  He licks his lips. “Who doesn’t.”

  Giggling, I’m surprised at how easy it is to be around this stranger. “Then I’ll have a cake baked for you and your dad.”

  He frowns. “Not my dad. He has diabetes. He can’t have sugar.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, feeling guilty. “What can I make for him?”

  “Nothing,” he rushes out. “He’ll just appreciate being out of the house. He doesn’t get out much.”

  “Wait,” I tell him, turning before I can exit the room. “Your father isn’t the crazy guy who turned up at the office where I met with your uncle, is he? He started yelling at Hayden when she met me there. She took his muffins again or something.”

  “No,” he tells me, his lips twisted in disgust. “I’m too good-looking to be his kid.”

  My shoulders sag and I reach out, squeezing his arm. “Phew! He was kind of scary.”

  “You have no idea,” he whispers, before following me out of the room.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AMELIA

  I waddle my way out of Mr Archie’s room and rest against the wall, taking deep breaths. He is one of our best residents, but he is also one of the most demanding.

  “We’ll play chess next,” he calls through the door.

  An unbearable pain shoots up my back, taking the wind right out of me. Sweat runs down my spine, and I clutch my stomach, feeling it tighten.

  Fuck, this hurts.

  This morning, the midwife said the baby was head down, ready, and that everything was looking fine. When I asked about the pain in my back, she explained that they were Braxton hicks, which are common in this stage of the pregnancy. There was no evidence I was in labour, and the pains weren’t regular. In fact, they’ve been hardly here or there, which is why I haven’t been overly concerned. However, when one does come, it’s agony, much like it was during my labour with Jasmine—if not worse.

  Hope, one of my favourite colleagues, steps out of the room a few doors down from me. Her uniform hugs her slim figure, making me a little envious. She’s gorgeous, and right now, her expression is pulled tight.

  Heading my way, she asks, “Are you okay?”

  I straighten from the wall, the pain now gone and forgotten. “Yes. I’m fine. The little one just knows how to give a good kick.”

  “Are you sure? You looked a little in pain when I walked out.”

  I smile, rubbing a hand over my stomach. “I’m sure.”

  “I heard your aunt tell you to take maternity leave. You should really take her up on it. You’re due soon, right?”

  I nod. “I am, but I need to work all the hours I can. Soon, I won’t be able to.”

  “But you get maternity leave, right?”

  Flustered at her question, I duck my head. I can’t tell her my ex left me with debt. The catalogues and loans are all in my name, and I’m still paying them off.

  When Cameron did work, he would lie to me about how much he got paid. Whenever he brought new purchases home—video games, trainers, and so much more—he would say he bought them with the extra money he made. Back then, I didn’t know any different, not until the debt collectors’ letters began to arrive. He kept all the other letters from me.

  I was dumb and stupid not to question him, especially when those things miraculously turned up even after he lost his job. I’d get angry at him for spending money we didn’t have, and he always made sure I paid for it. I lost a part of myself every time he hurt me.

  I was blind to a lot of things when it came to him, and I hid so much from people, which I feel stupid about now. I lied to my parents whenever they asked me if I was okay, or if I needed anything. I lied to myself when I said he hadn’t done anything wrong. I lied to my daughter when I said he was sorry.

  But I’ve learned from my mistakes. My eyes are wide open, and I’ll never let anyone treat me like that again.

  “Sorry, I’m being nosey,” Hope rushes out, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

  “No, you aren’t. I, um—I’m paying a few things off, and with the baby on the way, I want to be prepared.”

  “If you ever need anything, call me. In fact, the next time we have a day off together, we should go and grab lunch or something.”

  Her hopeful expression tears me up inside. I desperately want to be friends with her. When I started working here, she was the first person to be nice to me; who didn’t talk behind my back or try to sabotage my job.

  I just don’t know if I can put my trust in another person, one I know I could become great friends with. Scarlett was my friend for a long time. I trusted her with everything, even my daughter, and she destroyed that friendship for a guy, who, in the end, hurt her too.

  Why the hell not. I have nothing left to lose.

  I have gotten over a lot of stuff since that dreadful night; it’s now time to start trusting people again. I have no friends here, and I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit I miss having someone to talk to.

  I’ve gotten to know Hope a lot over the months I have worked here, and not once have I compared her to Scarlett. She’s too nice. She doesn’t bitch, even though some of our co-workers deserve it, and she always makes sure everyone is taken care of.

  Taking a leap of faith, I give her a smile. “I’d love that.”

  My aunt steps around the corner with my mum and Jasmine in tow. Jasmine, who is clutching her Elsa doll, has her head down, dragging her feet instead of bouncing up the corridor to greet me.

  I force a smile at my mum, who turns her gaze back down to my quiet daughter.

  I bend down, letting my knees fall to the carpet as I take her in. “Baby, did you have a good time at the childminder’s?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle.

  “No.” She pouts, her lip trembling and eyes watering when they meet mine. “That mean boy tripped me over again.”

  “Did you tell Mel?” I ask, checking her over for injuries. The graze on her knee has been cleaned, but still, she has been hurt again.

  I pull her to me, giving her a kiss on the cheek, breathing in the scent of her apple shampoo.

  This isn’t the first time she’s been hurt or bullied there. Mel is good with the kids, but she looks after a few that have no manners and are rough with the little ones. She promised me another incident like this wouldn’t happen again. I’ll need to have another word with her about it.

  “I’m okay, Mummy. I was brave.”

&nb
sp; I run my gaze over her lovingly, threading my fingers through her tangled mass of black locks. “I bet you were. You’re the bravest girl I know.”

  I take Mum’s hand when she reaches down to help me up. I giggle, giving her a hug in greeting. “Thank you for picking her up, Mum. I know you had plans today.”

  “I’ll always have time for my girls. I’ve got to rush off, but I’ll be around again later to help sort your room out.”

  “Thank you.” I give her another kiss before looking down at Jasmine, my stomach rumbling with hunger. “Would you like a McDonald’s for dinner?”

  She squeals, clapping her hands. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  My aunt laughs, along with Hope. “I guess that means she’d love to.”

  “I’ll see you Monday,” I remind her, before grabbing Jasmine’s lunch bag. “Let’s go, baby.”

  *** *** ***

  I laugh at the sight of my daughter’s face covered in tomato sauce. She couldn’t wait until we got home to eat, so I opened her Happy Meal and let her eat it in her car seat.

  Jasmine holds up the toy that came with her Happy Meal, laughing at whatever is in the tiny ball.

  “What did you get, baby?”

  “It’s a light-up ball. But it won’t work,” she explains.

  I give her another quick glance in my rear-view mirror. “I’ll have a look at it when we get home.”

  “After you eat your food,” she tells me in her bossy voice.

  “Yes, missy,” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

  As we pull into our street, the first thing to catch my attention and make me groan are the cars outside the house across the road. It seems that for people who don’t work, they can afford to party day and night, and if alcohol wasn’t expensive enough, they always seem to have fags in their mouths.

  Too busy planning on my quick escape from the car to the house before they can cat-call or yell crude things across the road, I miss the car parked next to my drive.

  Something inside of me nearly keeps going, but I don’t want to give anyone else the power of knowing I’m scared ever again.

  “Baby, I’m going to take you inside the house and then I need you to stay in the front room until I’m back. Okay?”

  Not missing a beat, she looks out the window, her eyes widening when she sees who is waiting. Her bottom lip trembles as she meets my gaze in the mirror. “That’s Grandma Hudson.”

  “It is.”

  “Will she hurt you again?”

  I close my eyes briefly as I put my car into park. I hate that she witnessed the altercation between me and Cameron’s mum. She hasn’t cared or bothered about him his entire life. The only time she remembered she even had a son was when she needed him to get a fix for her or to look after her kids. She never congratulated him on our pregnancy, or when he passed his GCSE’s.

  She was in his life, but she wasn’t. Until the day he was charged. Since then, she has been a thorn in my side. The first time, which was the time Jasmine witnessed her slap me, was when I had been released from the hospital and we went back to our flat. While Mum and Dad were helping me pack, there was a knock on the door. It was Carol, and before I could utter a word, her hand was across my face. I already had bruises from her son, so the slap hurt more than it should have.

  Her weathered face pops in front of the passenger side window, her lips twisted in a snarl as she taps her knuckles across the glass.

  Her yell has me grimacing. “Bitch, I want to speak to you.”

  “Remember what I said?” I warn Jasmine, turning a little in my seat.

  “We go inside,” she tells me, her voice shaking.

  I quickly exit the car, leaving my food and bag on the passenger side floor. I move as fast as my large stomach will let me after grabbing the house keys.

  “I want a word with you,” Carol snarls, as I get out of the car.

  “Let me get Jasmine inside,” I tell her, giving her a pointed look to keep it down. She doesn’t. And neither does her sister, who comes storming up behind the car.

  “Don’t you dare take that child away from her again.”

  I ignore them and quickly unbuckle Jasmine from her car seat, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s going to be okay, baby.”

  She nods but doesn’t speak. We head around the car, intending to make it to the house, when I’m blocked by the sisters.

  Carol looks to have aged ten years, but that’s to be expected, what with the amount of alcohol, drugs and cigarettes she consumes. Her dark roots are stark against her bleach blonde hair that looks more orange than blonde. Her twin sister is no exception.

  “Oi, I said I wanted a word with you,” Carol barks.

  Trying to keep my tremors at bay and hold my cool at the same time, I force a smile. “And I said, give me a minute to get Jasmine inside.”

  Her sister, Karen, snorts. “Look at you, thinking you can keep her grandbaby away from her.”

  “You want to see your grandma, don’t you?” Carol asks Jasmine, who tucks herself behind my leg, her tiny body shaking. When Carol meets my gaze, she’s livid. “You turning her against me? Like you turned her against her daddy?”

  “Carol, I’m going to ask you again: please let me past so I can get Jasmine inside. She doesn’t need to witness this.”

  “No,” she snaps. “I want some time with my grandbaby. Cameron wants to see her too. He’s allowed visitation. You can’t keep her from us.”

  My blood runs cold at the news because it will be the last day on earth before I let him near her again. She knows that. The courts know that. And Cameron knows that. He nearly killed our daughter that night. By keeping me from taking her to get medical care, she nearly died. Her appendix had ruptured as she got to the hospital. If the neighbours hadn’t called the police when they did, we would have both died that night. He was a danger to us both.

  “You’ve wasted your time in coming here because he isn’t allowed visitation with her. You know that. The courts denied him any access. I have full parental control.”

  “Because you lied,” she spits out.

  Seeing they aren’t going to let me pass, I bend down a little to Jasmine. “Why don’t you go play over there with your ball while I speak to Carol and Karen.”

  She nods, rushing over to the small patch of grass. I straighten, turning to the two sisters. “I don’t care why you’re here, but I want you to go. You know what happened with Cameron, and you’re deluding yourself if you say otherwise. I’m tired of doing this with you. Let me raise my daughter in peace. She’s seen and been through enough.”

  “You’re denying her a family,” Carol argues.

  “She has a family,” I shoot back. “You’ve seen her, what, three times now? You’re just angry because Cameron can no longer give you my money. He can no longer get drugs cheaper for you.”

  I hadn’t known what Cameron did behind my back. The drugs, the dealing, it was something he swore he wouldn’t touch. And then he did, saying he needed the weed to help him sleep. When he promised me he wouldn’t do it again, I believed him.

  When I finally got all the bills, I saw the destruction of what Cameron had done to my finances. Growing up, I know his mother relied on him. He had brothers and sisters he helped raise because his mum couldn’t or wouldn’t. He did everything he could once he turned eighteen to make sure they had everything they needed. His mum had maxed out his credit and got him blacklisted, so I knew when we got our first store card, it would have to be in my name.

  “Because you never let me around.”

  “No, not when you were intoxicated or high, which happened to be all the time. But you also never made the effort to come.”

  Her lips twist into a cruel smirk as she eyes my stomach. She turns to her sister, arching her eyebrow. “I wonder if the courts knew she cheated on him and got pregnant. I mean, that would be reason enough as to why he got uncharacteristically angry and hurt her.” She turns to me, flashing her yellow teeth smudged with red lipstick. “Th
at’s why he was angry, right? I bet the courts will bail him out beforehand.”

  My stomach tightens in knots. Although sentenced, Cameron still got a light one. Four years. Four years for the damage he had done to not only me, but Jasmine and Scarlett. He got off lightly and they knew it.

  “You know that isn’t true. I found out I was pregnant the night he got arrested. He didn’t find out until much later—when it came up in a police interview. I’m done explaining to you what happened that night. It wasn’t the first time he hurt me,” I tell her, hearing a car pull in across the road. I don’t look to see who it is, already aware of prying eyes.

  “Well, I’m not done with you,” she snaps, shoving her hand on her hip. “My boy is in prison and you’re here, living it up. You always did think you were above my boy.” She looks up at the house, her lip curling. “I didn’t want to believe it when Karen said she saw you shopping around here. She followed you home, said you lived in a big fancy house.”

  That explains how she knew where I lived. We called the police so many times when they kept coming to my parents’ house. It was another reason I knew I had to leave there. It was unfair they had to deal with them.

  “I don’t care what you think, Carol,” I tell her, stepping back when she comes forward. “I want you both to leave, and the next time you come, I’ll be phoning the police.”

  “I say we take the child now. She’s not fit enough to look after her,” Karen orders, crossing her arms over her chest.

  The blood drains from my face. “I don’t think so. If any of you even think—”

  “Mummy, look, it lights up,” Jasmine yells, bouncing the ball again. It bounces away, and before I can open my mouth to yell at her to stop, she’s rushing after it.