Chapter 55
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
JACKO
The sunlight slips through the kitchen blinds, soft and gold. Maya’s curled into my side on the sofa, legs tucked beneath her, her cheek resting on my shoulder. Lila’s still asleep upstairs, her nightlight casting a sleepy constellation all over the landing when I peeked earlier.
We haven’t said much yet. Just shared a blanket and some toast. But I’ve been turning it over in my head for days now. Weeks, if I’m honest.
“Hey,” I say softly, brushing my thumb along her arm. “Can I ask you something?”
She shifts, not pulling away. Just listening.
“Is this temporary for you?” I ask. “Us, living here? You and Lila staying with me. Is it just until things calm down so you can go back to the flat, or were you thinking maybe longer?”
She goes still, and I feel the breath she holds in her chest.
“Maya,” I murmur, “I’m not trying to pressure you. I just want to know what you need. What you want.”
She exhales slowly; eyes fixed on the crease of the blanket between us. “I didn’t want to rush it. Or assume. Or seem like I’m just clinging on to you because you’re a safe space for us.”
“You’re not,” I say instantly. “You’re not clinging. You’re building something. With me. And I want that. I want all of it.”
She blinks at me, eyes shining. “Even the meltdowns and the half-chewed crayons and the unicorn aprons?”
“Especially those,” I say. “Maya, this place feels like home because you and Lila are here. And it’s safer than the flat. The locks, the alarm, the cameras, I’ve had security consultants practically drooling over the setup. But none of that matters if you don’t want to be here.”
She swallows, then leans in, forehead to my shoulder. “I do want to be here. I just… I’ve never had something stable like this before. It’s scary.”
“I get that,” I say, wrapping both arms around her. “But it’s okay to be apprehensive. We’ll figure it out together. No timelines. No rules. Just us.”
She nods slowly. “Okay,” she whispers. “Then yeah. I want this to be permanent. I want to wake up here with you. I want Lila to have her unicorn apron in our kitchen. I want her to grow up knowing what safe feels like. I want her to have good male role models in her life, and I think you and the guys provide that for her. For us.”
My throat goes tight. I press a kiss to her hair and close my eyes.
“You’ve got it, beautiful,” I say. “You’ve both got everything.”
It’s been a week since Jamie got arrested.
Seven days since Maya sat in front of a police officer and, in a voice that barely shook, laid out everything she’d lived through.
The burns and bruises. The threats. The night she fled with a baby in her arms and no plan except survive.
I sat beside her the whole time, fists clenched under the table, throat dry, heart pounding like it was me telling the story. But I wasn’t. I just held her hand.
Now she’s in the kitchen, hair scraped up, apron dusted with flour, singing off-key to Lila while stirring something in a giant pot on the stove.
Batch cooking for Sophie and Murph. There are six lasagnes cooling on the counter, and at least three labelled tubs of chicken stew.
A tray of oatmeal muffins rests near the sink.
Another load of something is in the oven, and it smells like apples and cinnamon and calm.
Lila dances around the kitchen with a wooden spoon, wearing a unicorn apron over her pyjamas and talking to the muffins like they’re her children.
It’s chaos. Pure, beautiful, comforting chaos.
And I can’t stop watching it.
I should be getting ready for practice. Instead, I lean against the doorway, arms folded, heart full. Maya catches me looking and smiles. Not one of the small, polite smiles she used to give when she was scared of taking up space. A real one. Wide. Crinkled at the eyes.
“Owen,” she says, teasing, “are you going to stand there staring or make yourself useful and grate the cheese?”
“I’m not interrupting genius-level meal prep, am I?” I ask.
She points the spoon at me. “You want Murph and Sophie to eat something other than toast and desperation this week?”
I grab the cheese.
Lila darts by me on her way to get more cupcake cases. She pats my leg like I’m a dog and says, “We’re making apple fairy cakes next, Bear. You have to be gentle with the batter or it gets sad.”
“Good tip,” I say solemnly. “I’ll remember that for the guys at practice.”
Maya snorts. “You think anyone on your line has ever been gentle with anything?”
She’s lighter today. Still tired, we both are, but the weight she’s been carrying around isn’t pressing quite so hard against her chest.
Jamie was processed, charged, and transported back to his home county to face court.
His bail application was denied, thanks in no small part to Maya’s statement and the support from Mia’s brother who happens to be a lawyer.
Not to mention half the damn team writing character references on her behalf.
Murphy’s been in and out since the baby was born, eyes glazed, hair messy, jacket buttoned wrong.
“Guys,” he said yesterday in the locker room, staring into the middle distance like he’d seen war. “He shat in my hand. My own son. Looked me in the eye and did it.”
Dylan had laughed so hard he pulled a muscle in his side.
Now the poor bastard looks like a zombie, so Maya did what Maya does. She made food and I baked bread. Because she can’t fix everything, but she can feed you. And that’s her version of love.
Mine version of love is standing beside her, supporting her, arm brushing hers, slicing vegetables while she talks about microwave-friendly meals and freezable portions.
Her phone buzzes on the counter. She glances at it, mouth tightening.
I lower the knife. “Everything okay?”
She hesitates, then nods. “It’s the officer handling my case. Just an update. Jamie’s hearing is next week. They think he’ll plead guilty.”
I watch her face carefully. “And how do you feel about that?”
She exhales slowly. “Like I might sleep properly for the first time in five years.”
I wipe my hands and pull her in, right there in the middle of the kitchen, aprons and all. Lila hums behind us, unfazed.
“I’m proud of you,” I murmur against her hair.
“I’m proud of me too,” she whispers back. Then she pulls away. “Okay. Enough feelings. You’re going to be late for the rink and Murph is going to cry if these meals don’t get there by tonight.”
I kiss her once, quick and soft, then duck out to get my gear.
At the rink, Murphy is already there, staring blankly at a coffee machine that’s not plugged in.
“Did you sleep?” I ask.
He looks at me like I’ve asked if he’s recently visited the moon.
“I dream of sleep,” he says. “Sometimes I hallucinate it. Sophie sent me out for nappies and I came home with carpet samples.”
Dylan pats his shoulder. “Hang in there, soldier.”
I pass him a muffin. “Maya made this for you.”
He sniffs it like it might be poison, then takes a bite and immediately tears up.
“Oh my God,” he says, mouth full. “Tell her I love her. Tell her she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
“Pretty sure Sophie would fight you,” Ollie says, laughing.
Murph shrugs. “She can take it. She gave birth with no drugs and called me a soggy crouton.”
Training is brutal, and the guys are ruthless, but I feel good. Settled. Not because everything’s perfect. But because we’re not pretending anymore.
After drills, I sit on the bench, unwrapping my wrist. Ollie plops down beside me.
“You look different,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Less bear-on-a-rampage, more bear-in-a-sweater, sipping tea.”
I snort. “Maya moved the last of her stuff in yesterday. Said she wants Lila to feel like the house is hers too.”
Ollie nudges me. “That’s because it is. You know that, right?”
I do.
I really do.
Back home, the house smells of baked goods. Lila greets me at the door with a plastic tiara and a demand to be spun.
Maya watches us from the couch, feet up, hair down, eyes soft.
And for the first time in a long, long time everything is where it should be.
That evening, after baths and stories and a very dramatic reenactment of The Great Unicorn Rescue, we all pile into the big armchair in the lounge. Lila wedges herself between us, warm and wriggly in her bunny pyjamas, still damp at the temples from her bath.
Maya glances at me, and I nod. It’s time.
“Hey, Jellybean,” I say, brushing a curl off her forehead. “Can we ask you something?”
Lila perks up instantly. “Is it about pudding?”
“Nope,” Maya says, trying not to laugh. “Though we can talk about that next.”
I lean in a little. “How do you feel about living here all the time? With me and Mummy? Not just for sleepovers, but for good.”
She blinks at us. “You mean… this is my real house now?”
“If you want it to be,” Maya says gently. “We’d still go to nursery and the bakery and do all our normal things. But this would be home. Proper home.”
Lila’s eyes go huge. “Even my bed with the slide?”
“Especially your bed with the slide,” I say. “We’d even let you pick out more things for your room. Within reason.”
She kicks her legs excitedly. “So, I can stay forever and ever and ever?”
I clear my throat. “That’s the idea, yeah.”
Lila pauses, suddenly serious. Her little brow furrows as she looks at me.
“I ask you sumfing?”
“Of course,” I say, voice low and careful.
“If I live here forever,” she says slowly, “do I…call you Daddy?”
I go completely still. My breath catches like I’ve been hit in the chest. I look at Maya for half a second, eyes glassy, then turns back to Lila.
“You can call me anything you want, Jellybean,” he says, voice thick. “But if you want to call me Daddy… I’d be the luckiest man in the world.”
She beams like it’s Christmas and her birthday and cake day all rolled into one. Then she throws her arms around my neck. “Sometimes I call you Bear or Daddy Bear.”
“I think that’s fair,” I whisper, hugging her tight.
Maya presses her face into my shoulder, blinking fast, heart full to the point of bursting. When she pulls back, Lila scrunches her nose. “Can I have pudding now, Daddy Bear?”
I laugh, rough and joyful. “Yeah, kiddo. You can have whatever you want.”