Conviction

by Jane Henry

  I nod, my heart thundering in my chest. “You can’t go around issuing spanking threats to me,” I protest.

  “Then I’d better make good on the promise,” he says, raising a brow.

  “Yeah?” I say, needing to push him. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  God. I am baiting him.

  But whatever. “I’ll watch my mouth and behave myself and I won’t embarrass you. Good enough?”

  “First of all,” he says. “This has shit all to do with you embarrassing me. I’m raising a kid in NYC. I fight to keep her innocence, and you’re not gonna screw that up.”

  It’s both sweet and maddening, and I’m not sure what to think. On the one hand, I love that he fights to keep his little girl innocent. On the other, who the hell does he think he is implying I’d do anything to threaten that?

  “Second of all, I’ve had it with you baiting me.” Though his eyes simmer, his voice is controlled and he’s deadly serious. “We’ll check into a hotel tonight, and you’re going over my lap.”

  “Thank fucking God.” He blinks in surprise, and I’m not even sure why I said it myself. This whole week has been a mash of confusion and I don’t know what end is up.

  He shakes his head, the anger dissipating as his lips quirk up. “You confuse the hell out of me,” he mutters.

  “I confuse the hell out of myself,” I mutter. I know when he's being that stern dom he's with me and not checked out. There's something different about me, too. It's baffling but intuitively I know I relate to him on that level.

  He smiles at me, reaches for my hand, and squeezes. “Come on, baby. Let’s go. I want you to meet my little girl.”

  There he is. That sweet, dominant man who makes me feel like myself for a little while. I wish I could make him stay this time.

  He leads me into the brick building, his chin lifted in pride and that makes me hold my head higher. He's happy to have me with him and he's taking me to see his little girl. This means something.

  The familiar smell of books and chalk and graham crackers, or whatever it is that makes an elementary school smell like one, fills my senses. I hate schools. I'm unprepared for the way just the smell alone, decades later, fucks with my head. Drawings of sunsets and green trees with vivid red apples, drawn crudely in crayon, line the walls, hung haphazardly like a helper who couldn't quite reach high enough did the job.

  A dented locker catches my attention and I shut my eyes as a memory floods me, drowning me, without warning.

  “You think because your guardian is wealthy you mean something, don't you?” The cruel twist of Mrs. Lapis’ lips makes my tummy hurt. She hates me. She saw when I pulled Carolyn, her little pet's hair, during recess. She didn't hear the way Carolyn mocked the fact that I'm wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt in June, but I have to, to hide the bruises. No one can know.

  “You mean nothing to him. You're a name on paper”.

  I stare at the dented locker, wishing I could hide inside it, to hide from her and Carolyn and the evil man who gave me the bruises…

  The memory fades at the tug on my arm. I blink, surprised that I'm in a full hallway, not the vacant one with the cruel teacher.

  “Zoe?” Brax is looking down at me, his brows furrowed in concern. “Where'd you go there?”

  I open my mouth to say something, to hide what happened because I have no idea how to tell him what just happened, but a squealed “Daddy!” interrupts us. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl with two braids bouncing on either side of her launches herself at him. The sight of him bending down and scooping her into his arms warms me, and when he kisses the top of her head, I melt. She’s slight, with a smattering of freckles on her nose, and she smiles with curiosity when she sees me.

  “Devin, this is Zoe.”

  “You have a girlfriend?” she asks, tipping her head to the side.

  Brax looks me over and winks. “No, honey, just a friend.” I temper an eye-roll. Friends spank each other and fuck each other all the time, I guess, in his world. The idea makes me smirk. But I know he has a crazy ex, and it’s likely safer for us not to be paired as “boyfriend/girlfriend,” especially by a little girl who may not know discretion.

  “Zoe, you can come see my art show,” Devin says, taking my hand. I haven’t held a little hand like this in… ever? She takes Brax’s hand in hers, and it feels nice having her between us like this. I could get used to this, I think, but the thought passes briefly. Just the fact that Brax has a little girl makes him off limits to me. I’m not the kind of person that handles the whole motherhood thing. I’d be a terrible mother, I know it, I’m way too temperamental.

  “What do you have on display here tonight, kiddo?” Brax asks, his normally husky voice softer than I’ve heard yet.

  “I painted water lilies,” she says. “And a moon with stars, a field of daisies, sunflowers, and roses, and a little girl with a pony.”

  Brax’s lips twitch up. “One of these things is not like the other,” he chants.

  Devin grins, then leads us into a classroom that’s filled with people, parents and children and paintings galore lining the walls. An older woman with glasses and graying hair pinned to her nape looks over the room with a smile of benevolence. I guess that’s her teacher.

  “So nice to meet you, Mr. Cannon,” she says with a smile. “And you, too, Mrs. Cannon.”

  “Oh,” I stammer. “I’m just a family friend. I’m not Mrs. Cannon.” I feel a bit of a pang. I don’t belong here. I’m an intruder.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says. “I haven’t met Devin’s mother yet and made assumptions.” I give a half-hearted shrug but I’m a little taken aback. This is NYC, for crying out loud. It’s not at all uncommon for someone to have an unconventional family structure. But then I realize something that makes me a little sad. She mistook me for Devin’s mom because Devin’s mom hasn’t shown up.

  I might not be the best mother if I were one, but if I had a kid, you’d bet your ass I’d meet their teachers, even if I had to have someone cover my shifts or I had to make a special appointment. I guess some people can’t always make it because of work, but it would surprise me if that’s why Devin’s mom couldn’t come. Brax doesn’t have Devin in the evenings, and if she had a babysitter, she wouldn’t have called him to get her early the other day.

  I shake my head. This is none of my business. The teacher is chattering away to Brax, who’s listening with interest, and leads us over to the artwork that lines the wall. The work is childlike but pretty, with vibrant colors and bold line strokes. I muse as I look at it. When do people learn to be timid? When do they learn that it’s not okay to be who you want to be? I look at Devin’s carefree face and know she hasn’t hit that point yet. I hope she never does.

  “What do you think, daddy?” Devin asks, reaching for Braxton’s hand. She tugs him over to the boldest, a blue night sky with brilliant gold stars.

  He towers over everyone in this room with his tall frame and has to bend down a little to look. He peers at is as if we’re perusing the halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and strokes his chin. “I think it reminds me of something I’ve seen before by someone who was an impressionist.”

  “Starry Night?” I supply helpfully.

  He snaps his fingers and his eyes twinkle at me. “Yes. Exactly.”

  Devin just looks at him soberly. “You think, daddy? You like it? Then you can have it when we’re done. We get to take our art home and I want this one on your fridge. Your fridge is too boring anyway.”

  Brax chuckles. “Oh yeah? Your job to brighten it up? I’d love that. You know I left it boring on purpose just so I could decorate it with something you made.”

  She smiles, her eyes meeting his with pride, and she looks tickled. “Well then it’s a deal.” She sticks her hand out to shake. God, she’s adorable. Soberly, he takes her hand and shakes firmly.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” he says in his growly voice, making her smile.

  “Can we get cookies
now?” Her brows draw together, and she lifts her eyes to his expectantly.

  “Cookies?”

  “The sign says refreshments served after,” I supply, pointing to the doorway.

  He looks over to where I’m pointing, takes a step to me and mutters, “We don’t have a lot of time. We have to get on the road.”

  I shrug. “I think it’ll make your girl happy.”

  He frowns. “Yeah. I think I’m just on edge since Nichole is due any minute. She’s just gonna be nasty when she meets you.”

  “I thought you said she has a man?”

  “She’s had several. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t turn into the Wicked Witch of the West when I bring one around.”

  “Double standard?”

  “Totally.”

  I grin at him and whisper so Devin doesn’t hear. “Oh let me at her.”

  He grins back and replies to Devin, but his eyes are on me. “Of course we’ll get refreshments, baby. Lead the way.”

  Devin pulls his hand and expertly weaves her way in and out of the crowds until she reaches the door, then shows us how to get to the library, chattering the whole way. As we walk, my mind is playing tricks on me. I remember oh so much as I’m assaulted by one familiar smell after another. Books and crayons and backpacks and glue, cardboard and sneakers and little children all pressed together before recess. I haven’t given much headspace to my childhood in years, and it’s a veritable memory bath as we go there. As before, Devin takes one of my hands and one of Brax’s, and we walk together. Irrationally, I wish he was holding my hand instead. I don’t like how I feel being here.

  When we enter the library, Devin makes a beeline for the refreshment table. It’s been set up along one wall, with cookies and juice, a large thermal coffee maker, and little white plates and napkins. It looks so tranquil that I almost forget the way I was bullied in a library, the way my foster father, the principal of the school I attended, would take me to the school library when he wanted to upbraid me for getting in trouble. I close my eyes and will myself not to remember being shoved in the stock room closet, slapped against the cluster of shelves in the way back, with a promise of misery when he got me home alone.

  For a moment, I’m struck with the incongruity of everything. We’re hunting down murderers, closing in on the names and whereabouts of people who’ve done unspeakable crimes, and yet here we stand in the most innocent of places, drinking watered-down schoolhouse coffee and eating chocolate chip cookies off napkins while surrounded by large cardboard cut-outs that line the walls with words like Feed your Brain: Read.

  There’s one more cookie on a plate and Devin snatches it up. I wonder if the cookie ever touches her lips, as she devours the cookie. “Easy, now,” Brax chides, his eyes narrowed on her. “Have you had your dinner?”

  She shakes her head. He crosses his arms on his chest. “Why haven’t you? You didn’t tell me that. You know you’re not allowed cookies if you haven’t had your dinner.”

  My heart thumps a little hearing him. He’s a good daddy.

  She scowls.

  “Devin,” he warns.

  “Mom made broccoli soup,” she says with a frown. “It didn’t even have cheese or anything. It was just like lumps of broccoli and it was gross. I hardly like eating a tiny bite of broccoli mom makes me when she makes it as a side dish. Eating it in soup is disgusting.”

  Brax’s lips twitch, but before he can respond, a sharp, high-pitched voice interrupts.

  “It was not disgusting, and you could’ve found that out for yourself if you’d tried it.” I turn in the direction of the voice, and I’m momentarily speechless. Damn. He didn’t prepare me for how beautiful Nichole is. She has the same platinum blonde hair as her daughter. It swings down her back in a long sheet, thick and full. Her eyes are wide, framed with thick lashes, and her makeup is impeccable. She has high cheekbones flushed pink, full red lips, and a knockout figure. She holds the hand of a man who stands silent, a brooding, handsome guy with dark hair and eyes.

  “Nice to see you, Nichole,” Brax says, his arms crossed on his chest. “Someone I should meet?”

  Nichole rolls her eyes. “This is my boyfriend Reggie,” she says. “And who’s this?”

  Well that didn’t take her long. Damnit, I like her kid, but I already want to tell Nichole to kiss my ass. What the hell was Brax thinking hooking up with her?

  Before Brax can say anything, I stick out my hand. “Zoe,” I say, not offering anything else.

  She frowns at my hand and keeps her hands on her hips. “Nice to meet you,” she says, turning away. “Brax, are you taking Devin tonight?”

  Brax blows out a breath with practiced patience, his eyes flaming. Jesus, he’s intimidating when he’s angry. I’ve seen him angry before, but I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the heat I feel now. I make a mental note to myself never to cross him, and weirdly, I’m a little attracted to the way his jaw tightens and his arms tense when he crosses them on his chest.

  “We talked about this, Nichole,” he says. “I can’t tonight. It isn’t my night, so I haven’t prepared, and I have an important errand to run.”

  She purses her lips and gives him a sickly-sweet smile. “Oh, that’s right. Since she isn’t yours full-time, you have to plan to take her, unlike the rest of us who just parent every day.”

  His eyes grow impossibly more heated. “Don’t go there,” he says in a low hiss. While other people wander around, laughing and joking, the tension between them grows, and a line of worry forms in Devin’s brows. I feel for her caught in the middle of this. I never had parents to fight over me, but I have been the kid at a school night without happy parents by her side, so I know she just wants things to be okay. I scoot my way over to her. I don’t need to get involved in their little spat anyway.

  “Show me your favorite section in the library?” I ask her with a smile. “What do you like best?”

  “Dog stories,” she says with a grin, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to a display of picture books with all sorts of puppies and dogs on the covers. I want to get out of here. I can feel the oppressive heat of being in a school like this closing in on me, and I’m pissed at myself for being weak and stupid. I also want to be alone with Brax. I want to know what the fuck is going on with us, and we need to get moving to close in on our next lead, but Devin’s more important than what I want right now. I’d be a crappy mother, but I know enough.

  Just as Devin pulls a book off a shelf and hands it to me, I hear a hissed voice near my ear. “Oh no, you don’t. You don’t get to come in here and play mom on me and try to take over. No way.” I blink up at Nichole’s furious eyes. She may be beautiful, but she looks part-terrier with her eyes all narrowed like that.

  “Excuse me?” I pull myself to my full height, which isn’t much but at least I’m not cowering to her. I’m not gonna cause a scene, but there’s no way I’ll let her tear me down. I might not be totally on my game here, but I’m no pushover. And Devin might be her kid, but she’s Brax’s, too, and he’s with me.

  “I said you don’t get to play mom,” she growls, moving closer to me. God, what I wouldn’t do to level her right now. She’s as skinny as a twig and I can tell by the aggressive stance she holds; the girl doesn’t know anything about a real throw down. I imagine how easily it would be to floor her: smack her chest with an open-palm slap, watch her stumble, then sweep her legs. I’m not a violent person but I’m no pacifist, and my protective instincts do come into play when a child is on the line.

  I give her a smile that says, “Back off, bitch,” and take a step toward her. “I’m not playing anything. While you two were having your little fight, I asked Devin to show me her favorite books. If you have a problem with that, maybe you should’ve shown up earlier so you could stake your claim.” Stoking her anger is stupid, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  “Zoe.” Brax’s warning tone sounds behind me, but I ignore him.

  “Her teacher didn’t even know I wasn
’t her mom,” I say, watching as the anger fades to something else and Nichole takes a step back. “Not sure why that is, Nichole, but if I were you, I’d do something about that.”

  “Zoe.” I look at Brax. He’s shaking his head from side to side, quietly instructing me to back the hell down. I don’t want to, but I know he’s right. I won’t stoop to the level of causing a scene like these two did. I give her a smile and turn to go.

  “I see how it is,” she says, following behind me with a chuckle. She speaks low enough so only I hear her. “He tells you to jump and you say ‘how high?’ So you play his sick, perverted games. That’s why he’s brought you here, so he can demonstrate he finally brought a woman to heel.”

  Bring me to heel? Is that a thing? I want to slap the smug look off her face, and Brax and I are gonna have a talk about these “perverted ways,” but I keep my head about me and instead turn to Devin, who’s still looking at the books and thankfully oblivious to what’s gone on between me and her mom. “Devin?” I say, taking control by ignoring Nichole entirely. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Your dad and I need to get going, now, but I fully plan on being with him the next time you’re with him, and I’d love to read some of these books together. Sound good?”

  Devin grins at me and gives me a little wave. Nichole watches in silence, and Brax stands behind, taking it all in and not missing a damn detail.

  “We’ll talk later, Nichole,” he says, then walks over to Devin and picks her up in a bear hug so fierce he lifts her straight off the floor. She squeals, and my insides melt. Watching the two of them makes something wistful blossom inside me. My heart feels softer toward him, and I can forgive the way he’s ignored me when I see with my own eyes why. I like seeing this big bear of a man swooning over his little girl. I’ve only just met her, but I like her.

  She’s his. How could I not?

  He comes up to me and takes me by the hand, pulling me too close for it to be polite, and he hisses in my ear. “You do not rise to her bait. Just keep walking. I’ll keep her away from you and won’t let you near her venom, but for Christ’s sake, don’t poke her.”