Page 11 of Jaime
“Milk?” he asked in a trembling voice.
“Yes,” I said, watching as he spilled a bit of that too.
Finally, he set the carton down, took a deep breath, calmly wiped the counter, and turned back to face me, coffees in hand.
He set one in front of me and took the seat across from me, sipping quietly, all while avoiding eye-contact.
That suited me just fine. It meant I could stare.
Jaime was incredibly beautiful. The more I looked at him, the more it hit me. He was like a wildflower, thorns and edges and bright emotions, just as ready to fight as he was to wilt and break.
“How old are you?” I found myself asking.
“Twenty-three,” he muttered, finally risking a quick glance at me. “Why? Too young to take good care of her?”
I shook my head at once, fighting the rising tension. So, Jaime liked to pick fights when he was upset. I had plenty of experience dealing with that gut reaction from people, especially after years of social work. Everyone wanted to defend themselves however they could, but I wouldn’t fall for the bait.
“Not at all. I’ve known younger parents than you who were wonderful to their kids. And Evie obviously trusts you, even at, what, two or three months?”
“Two,” he said softly.
His fingers played over the chipped flower design on his mug.
“Do you really think she likes me?” he asked in a small voice. “How can you tell?”
I managed a small smile even as my heart squeezed.
“Just a hunch. Some babies cry and cry, or they won’t sleep at all. She’s very easygoing.”
He chuckled darkly.
“Well, she’ll only sleep if I’m holding her,” he admitted.
“All night?” I asked.
He nodded, cheeks turning pink.
“All night. I have to stay up with her.”
I took a sip of my coffee, trying to hide my reaction. That was a very bad sign. In terms of mental health, sleep was essential. And he already seemed to be overwhelmed to begin with.
“Does anyone else take a turn?” I asked, fishing for info. “Maybe her mother?”
“No,” he said, dark gaze falling to his coffee.
For a while, I didn’t think he was going to elaborate. When he looked up at me, with bright, worried eyes, it was like he’d decidedto hell with it. He was letting it all out.
“Liz is completely out of the picture. I don’t know if she’s coming back to take Evie but I—I’ll fight her. I’ll do anything I have to. She can’t have Evie back unless she’s completely clean. Even then, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust her again.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, trying to gather my thoughts before I allowed emotion to take over. “That doesn’t sound good. She’s your child though, right? So, unless Liz is in the best possible state, you’ll be given custody. Especially after stepping up the way that you have.”
My reassurance seemed to have the opposite effect. His hands started to shake; tears sprang to his eyes and he blinked them back rapidly.
“Shit,” he muttered. “No, she’s not really mine. Liz is my sister...”
He swallowed, hands clutching his coffee mug until they turned white.
“She showed up here out of the blue with her. I mean, I’d already been thinking about it. I wanted to—I don’t know. I’ve already tried with Liz, but she doesn’t listen to me. She doesn’t listen to anyone. I wanted to help my niece somehow. Then Liz came here and gave me Evie one night and I just took her.”
