Tara Sivec - Worn Me Down

“Isn’t it time for you to go to bed?” I question.

“It’s only seven-thirty.”

I shrug. “And?”

“And, I don’t go to bed until nine.”

Jesus Christ. What the hell was I thinking offering to babysit Gwen’s kid? I don’t know how to play with kids. Shit, I didn’t even know how to play when I was a kid. My first foster mother owned a diner put me to work when I was six years old. I had to learn how to wash and dry dishes in kindergarten.

“Um, how about we play Navy SEAL?”

She looks at me like I’m crazy. I probably am.

Getting down on my knees so I’m closer to her level, I look around the room cautiously and speak in a low voice. “That Barbie over there in the pink dress hiding behind the stuffed dog is a high level insurgent. Do we capture or kill, soldier?”

Emma looks at me with wide eyes for a moment and I wonder if this is the dumbest idea ever. Then, she glances over at the Barbie in question, bends her knees and whispers in my ear. “I think we need to capture her. Make her talk.”

Stifling a laugh, I quickly shuffle on my knees over to the edge of her bed, motioning for her to follow with my hand. She runs up behind me and we both peek around the corner of her frilly pink comforter.

“What do we do now?” she whispers from behind me, resting her small hands on my shoulders.

“We don’t want to spook her. We take this nice and slow and you don’t make a move until I say so,” I tell her, looking over my shoulder at her.

She nods, a fierce look of concentration on her face.

“We’re going to need weapons. She looks like a fighter. Did you bring weapons, soldier?”

Emma quickly grabs a stuffed alligator from off of her bed. Naturally it’s pink. “I’ve got this alligator. Her name’s Ally and she bites.”

I nod my head and motion for her to go in front of me. “You go in first with the gator. Tell her we don’t negotiate with terrorists who wear pink.”

My eyelids are so fucking heavy it feels like bricks are attached to them. Who knew an hour and a half of playing Navy SEAL with a six-year-old could be so exhausting?

“Hey, Mr. Austin?”

I struggle to open my eyes when I hear Emma’s sleepy voice and I lift my head from the back of the couch to look down at her, curled up next to me with her head resting against my side.

“What’s up pipsqueak?”

She looks up at me and yawns. “Do you know my daddy?”

I’m suddenly wide awake and I sit up a little straighter, careful not to jostle her too much. “Um, no. I don’t know your daddy. Is he nice?”

She yawns again, looking away from me to burrow closer into my side. “He always bought me presents. And he called me princess. But he wasn’t nice to mommy.”

Uneasiness ripples through my body at her softly spoken words. “What do you mean he wasn’t nice to mommy?”

I’m probably the biggest dick in the world for questioning a child, but right now I don’t care. I need info on Gwen and Emma’s sleepy ramblings seem to be just the place to get it. For some reason, I naturally assumed Gwen left New York because of her parents, just like Brady did. Obviously, I was wrong.

Emma is quiet for a few minutes and I assume she’s fallen asleep, but she mumbles into my side. “He yelled a lot. He called her bad names. If we would have had a swear jar then, he would have had to put a whole lot of money in it.”

I swallow thickly, resting my palm on top of her head.

“I miss my daddy, but he made mommy cry. I don’t want my mommy to cry anymore,” she admits softly right before she falls asleep.

Reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, I gently pull it down and cover Emma with it. My head drops to the back of the couch and I stare up at the ceiling, things slowly clicking into place in my addled brain. Gwen not having any contact with Brady for years, her showing up at his place in the middle of the night a few months ago, the ‘personal stuff’ she’s got going on in her life, the way she zones out every once in a while and I can tell she’s thinking about something that bothers her, the comment she made in the car the other day about people hurting you… it’s all starting to make sense.

That motherfucker hurt her. I wonder if Gwen knows how much Emma worries about her. A kid shouldn’t have to worry about someone harming her mother, especially when that someone is her own father. Just the idea of some douchebag making Gwen feel like shit makes me want to find him and beat his sorry ass into the ground. I know she doesn’t want to talk about her past, especially to me, but if Brady was concerned enough to have me come here and keep an eye on her, this asshole could still be a threat. I may not be the type of guy to settle down with a wife and kid, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let anything happen to Gwen or her daughter.

Iglance nervously at my watch as I sit in the booth of the restaurant. Not because Ellie is a few minutes late, but because I’m wondering if Austin is surviving being alone with my daughter. I lied when I told him that Karen was out of town for the weekend. After that damn letter that came in the mail the other day, the coffee mug incident and what happened in the park, I wasn’t about to leave Emma home alone without being absolutely certain she would be safe. Karen is sweet and she adores Emma, but she’s no Navy SEAL. As much as Austin clouds my judgment and messes with my mind, I know that there isn’t a better person out there to keep my daughter safe.

That damn letter – a crayon drawn picture of a mother, a father and a little girl. It was a crude drawing and, at first glance, I assumed a child had done it – until I saw the words scribbled at the bottom of the page: Families belong together.

It was stupid of me to believe that William would just sit back and do nothing after I left, but to stoop to such childish behavior is pathetic. Michelle called me back on the way to the restaurant tonight and she informed me that William has been in New York for the past couple of weeks and his only travel plan coming up is a medical conference in Chicago. That news didn’t sit well with me at all. The coffee mug thing could be chalked up to my over-active imagination, and the person at the park could have just been a stranger, but that letter sure as hell was real. I’m not about to let him do this to me or to Emma. As much as I don’t want to, I’m have to tell Austin what’s going on. He dropped everything to look after us as a favor to my brother, not knowing what kind of a mess he was stepping into. It’s only fair to him that I explain the situation. There’s no way he can truly protect us if he doesn’t know what he’s protecting us from. I hate relying on someone else, but I won’t be careless about my daughter’s safety. William’s money and influence are far-reaching and he’s not a man I want to go up against all on my own. It would be a different story if it were only my well being I had to worry about. I would have no problem being my usual stubborn self and handling things on my own, but I have Emma to consider. I’m not about to let my pride get in the way of protecting her.

The front door to the small restaurant opens and thoughts of William fly from my mind as I see Ellie walk through the door and scan the room. I slowly slide out of the booth and stare at her wide-eyed. She looks so different. The woman walking towards me with a huge smile on her face looks nothing like the woman I left behind in New York. The last time I saw Ellie she had long, brown hair and a few extra pounds around her middle that she’d been complaining about losing for years. She was never one to wear clothing that accentuated any part of her body, choosing instead to be comfortable in t-shirts and jeans. I hardly recognize the woman I’m looking at. She’s easily lost at least twenty pounds and her thin figure and gorgeous curves are accentuated with a form-fitting little black dress. Her normally mousy, brown hair has been dyed honey blonde and hangs down past her shoulders in a shiny, sleek long-layered cut. She looks wonderful.