Here at the Crossroads, I had a roof over my head, plenty to eat, and the freedom to do as I pleased. No one slapped me around, forced me into their bed, or tossed beer bottles at my head for target practice. No one considered me any less a human being than the rest. I wasn’t just a slave, a pussy to fuck, and a bitch to order around.
That was something monumental in my world.
Zara whimpered, and I patted her back, hugging her little body closer. I began to sing, murmuring a lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I was a little girl that used to chase all the boogeymen and monsters away.
“What are you doing in here, Skyla?”
The slightly aggravated but curious tone, heavily accented by sleep, startled me as I turned in the direction of the bedroom door. Daniel leaned against it; his thick tattooed arms spread across his chest as he folded them closer and narrowed his eyes.
“Well?”
I’d forgotten about the baby monitor beside her crib. He must have heard me.
“Sorry to wake you. Zara had another nightmare.”
“And since when is it your job to rush in here and comfort my daughter?” His voice held an edge, annoyance and a hint of anger leaking through as his dark gaze slid over me.
Since Cindi’s death about five months ago, Daniel became a hard, bitter man. Whatever he felt about losing the woman he loved seemed to be consumed by rage. The kind, patient biker who everyone loved to be around disappeared.
He became a closed-off, confrontational ass.
All the remained was a vengeance-fueled, short-tempered bastard that rarely spoke except to growl his words at those who got too close.
I didn’t blame him for reacting the way he did. Cindi didn’t deserve what happened to her, and his poor little girl lost her mother. Lucky, now Chaos, lived up to his new road name. The man left behind, Daniel, fell into a reckless spiral where only alcohol and his brothers seemed to keep him from total self-destruction.
My heart felt his pain and Cindi’s loss. I wasn’t a stranger to heartache. My mother died when I was a little girl, and I understood how difficult it would be for Zara as she grew older. Maybe I overstepped by getting involved, but when I heard her cries outside the room, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing, even if I earned Daniel’s wrath in the process.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I wasn’t going to let her cry endlessly until you woke up from your drunken stupor to comprehend them.”
Yeah, I was being snarky. I didn’t approve of his overindulgence, even if I sympathized with the reasons. His little girl needed her father.
He took a few steps inside the room, clenching his fists. “You sayin’ I’m a bad father?”
“No,” I exhaled with a sigh. “I’m not. But you shouldn’t drink so much when she needs you. She’s only—”
I never got to finish.
“What the fuck? Who do you think you are, Skyla? Coming in here and—”
Zara’s little mouth opened wide, belting out a startled howl, and she began to cry, upset by the raised voices that suddenly filled the room.
“Shit,” I cursed, smoothing her hair and whispering sweet little words into her ear to calm her down. “I’m sorry, baby girl. We didn’t mean to wake you.”
Daniel cringed, realizing his mistake. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore.”
Those were probably the first honest words he’d offered since the funeral.
“I can help,” I offered, keeping my voice low. “Let me watch over her. She needs consistency and regular care. I could help with that burden.”
“Why?” He walked closer, brushing his fingers across the soft skin of his daughter’s cheek before his sad gaze lifted, connecting with mine.
“I know what it’s like to lose a mother,” I admitted, swallowing hard as I divulged a piece of my past I never intended to reveal. Information gave people power, and in my experience, it also ensured control, yanking away independence. “If it’s okay with you, I can babysit and help with meal and bath times.”
He tilted his head to the side, not saying a word, and I wasn’t sure if he considered my offer or just wanted to make me uncomfortable. He succeeded, but I wasn’t backing down. For reasons I wouldn’t indulge, I needed this. Holding his sweet little girl in my arms gave me purpose, a reason to smile, and settled something inside that had felt out of sync for a long time.
“Alright,” he said at last. “I’ll pay you—”