Chapter Ten #3
“They did,” I cut in before he could detail their punishment—I dreaded to think what he’d deem fair for something so trivial.
“But these are my casual clothes, and wearing them more than once isn’t a big deal.
I just scrub off any stains in the sink, and hang them on the radiator to dry.
” I shrugged. “It makes sense, especially when I’m here.
Minnie makes a mess, so there’s no point in dirtying everything else. I’d have no outfits left after a week.”
Caine’s expression turned pensive, and he said nothing more. What the hell? Had he come here just to pick at me? Well, if that was the case, he could—
“A-fa,” Minnie chirped, patting at the floor beside her.
He hovered for a moment as if chewing over what to do.
I stayed quiet, observing, debating whether he’d outright refuse or conjure up an excuse to leave.
Neither, apparently. An impatient noise from Minnie had him peeling out of his suit jacket—what was it about his forearms that had my mouth drying up?
—and lowering himself onto the mat beside her.
He extended his legs out in front of him, bent a little at the knees.
It looked awkward, as if he’d never lounged on the floor a day in his life. Maybe he hadn’t.
Minnie was oblivious to his crisis and shoved a plastic horse at him, initiating playtime.
He took it from her, holding it aloft while she picked up a pig figurine and began rapping it roughly against the mat, blathering away to herself about only she knew what.
It took a beat, but she seemed to notice Caine wasn’t getting involved, and without hesitation or attitude, she paused, took his hand in hers and coaxed him into reenacting similar motions.
My eyes widened.
She was teaching him how to . . . play.
Why did a flicker of sympathy settle in my belly?
It dawned on me as he mirrored her actions, his movements stilted, that to everyone on the outside, he was a big bad Alpha, practically the King of Ailemorth, who’d likely never known anything other than severity and harshness.
To people like him, sentimentality was seen as a weakness, a trait to be exploited, and they’d all probably been groomed to believe it.
He was an arsehole, sure, and I didn’t doubt a lot of his wooden personality was of his own creation, but what exactly had he been forced to sacrifice to become a leader?
Parenting wasn’t second nature for everyone.
It wasn’t for me, but I had a baseline. I was led by my parents’ and grandma’s example.
It wasn’t easy, but my childhood had been a relatively happy one, full of laughter and tenderness.
Love. I remembered the fundamentals that mattered, what had made me thrive, and I’d tried to replicate them with Minnie, learning as I went.
Did Caine not have a foundation? Had he no experience with nurturing, only practicality and obligation?
I didn’t even want to imagine the type of environment that would produce a man who didn’t know how to play with his kid.
It was all speculation, of course. There was only so much I knew about the Devereux family and their processes, mostly from rumour or basic public knowledge of syndicates.
He could just be a regular elitist twat with a stick up his arse, too expensive to debase himself with such peasant-like behaviour.
“Ew, emotions, how impoverished.”
Ugh, I didn’t know. He hadn’t had the opportunity to properly bond with his daughter yet.
Not naturally, at least. If it wasn’t a priority to him, if he truly wasn’t interested, he’d have left well enough alone.
He did it once before. He could simply have thrown money at us, used me for his ruts, and then carried on with his rigid existence, doing the bare minimum of fathering as he’d outlined in the contract.
But his visits were getting more frequent, and I might not be particularly streetwise, but to me it implied he wanted to build a relationship with her.
Unless he had an ulterior motive?
Stop it.
I sighed internally. I didn’t have to like him, didn’t have to approve of all the mafia crap, but he was part of our lives now.
It wasn’t going to change anytime soon, and despite the two-year abandonment period, he hadn’t given me any other cause to believe he’d treat her badly.
Maybe he’d reconsidered the reason he didn’t want to be part of her life earlier?
Maybe it had been some cutthroat way of trying to protect her?
I had no clue, but the facts were, he’d done everything in his power to get her back to me, and provided more than his fair share.
It could blow up in my face, he could be operating under false pretences, but what more could he possibly have to gain when he was the one to put all this in place?
It was one of the many trials of co-parenting, not knowing if the commitment would be temporary, but for Minnie, I’d cooperate.
She deserved to know both of her parents, until they proved otherwise.
The trust was frayed, but if he was willing to put in the effort, if his intentions were genuine, no matter my feelings, he could have one more chance.
He just needed to prise himself out of his aloof shell, even if it was only with her.
“Minnie, baby, show Dad your picture.” I pointed to the crinkled paper lying in the middle of the floor, surrounded by crayons and creative mess—our five a.m. activity.
She crab-crawled toward it, scrunching it in her hand before offering it to him. He unfolded the corner, and his jaw tightened. He was looking at a page of scribbles and wonky shapes. Colourful and chaotic. I’d started it off, drawing stick figures in the middle, but she added the flair.
“Be nice,” I said, only loud enough for him to hear.
“It’s very good,” he lied, not changing the monotonous inflection in his voice, before side-eying me. “You helped?”
“A little. It’s us,” I specified. I’d sketched me and Minnie, but she’d piped up with “A-fa,” so I’d added him too.
Begrudgingly.
His brows creased. “Why do I have dog ears?”
“They’re horns.”
He huffed lightly through his nose. “Ah.”
Minnie plonked herself in Caine’s lap, seemingly content for all of three seconds before she decided to use him like a climbing frame.
She clung to his shirt, balancing on his leg unsteadily as she stretched toward his eye patch.
Caine stiffened but let her paw at him, her curious fingers mapping out the straps that framed his other eye and disappeared around the back of his head.
I wondered what the story was behind it.
There had to be one, considering the life he led. Not that he’d tell me.
Again, I watched silently as Minnie stared up at him, her head tilted.
He stared right back, perceiving her up close for the first time, his expression reserved yet softer than I’d seen it before.
With a gummy smile and hiccupping laugh, she lurched forward, bumping her face against his neck and nuzzling.
Caine was startled—at the sudden action or the scenting, I couldn’t say—but he recovered quickly.
His hand splayed over her back, her drawing trapped beneath, as he lifted the other to brush the flat of his wrist over her cheek.
The faintest glint of solace crossed his stony face.
And the simple display of acceptance between them made the part of me that yearned for pack bonds preen.
Stupid omega bullshit.