He watches her, a heavy strain in his brows, defeat in his demeanor and I feel like a complete asshole.

He was finally able to comfort her as he’s fought to find a way to all night, and here I am, taking this from him—another first of hers he’s missing, holding her when she’s sick.

I risk his anger, should he give it to me later, and turn back to Zoey.

“Can you move over for me, ZoZo?”

She does, so I climb on the couch beside her, and as I had hoped, she chooses her daddy’s lap to lie her head on.

I don’t glance at Captain, but I can sense the relief slowly settling into him as Zoey’s breathing grows steady, her eyes glued to the screen as she watches her favorite show.

Captain

Me.

I take a deep breath, running my hand over Zoey’s hair.

Her eyes flutter heavier as she begins to fall asleep, but every time my voice is heard on the screen they fly open, and damn if an overwhelming sense of calm doesn’t spread through me, taking every ounce of tension and uncertainty with it.

For the very first time since I learned I was a dad... I believe it.

I believe, deep in my core, with every thread of my soul, every inch of who I am, I know I was meant for this.

For her.

For the beautiful, smart, courageous, little girl, who is half of me, but owns every piece.

All my baby girl wanted tonight, while I stood convinced this was the proof I feared would show itself, that I wasn’t enough for her, was to watch videos of me. To feel close to me in a way she must have become accustomed to.

This. These clips are how she felt me, came to love me, grew close when I wasn’t within her reach.

She must have watched them often to have our phrases and things memorized.

She had me with her all along.

The videos aren’t clean, you still get our slang and some cussing here and there, but it’s not vulgar or anything too bad. It’s us.

At the park, at the school, even in gym.

It’s as if it was purposely filmed this way, left true and honest, so Zoey, while away, could get to know the real us, unfiltered, unedited, and in our element.

My eyes close and I inhale deeply, pulling every bit of this moment into myself I can, when suddenly, the cushion dips beside me.

My eyes fly open and look over.

Victoria has her gaze locked where Zoey’s feet lie in her lap, and gingerly begins to slide away, freezing when my hand shoots across to capture her knee cap.

Weary brown eyes hit mine, searching.

“I... she’s sleeping,” she whispers unsure, as if I might not have noticed.

I did.

Still, for some reason, my hand moved to stop her.

Hers suddenly falls on top.

I frown at the contact. “I told you not to touch me.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I know.”

Something in me stings.

I don’t know why I reached for her, to help keep Zoey sleeping, maybe, but that doesn’t explain why it takes more effort than I’d like to admit to let go.

I do, but she doesn’t move right away.

Victoria hesitantly reaches over to drag the back of her hand over Zoey’s forehead. Deep brown eyes lift to mine. “Her fever is gone.”

I nod, my brows furrowing.

Noticed that too.

She manages to stand and begins walking past but freezes when the video changes to one of us playing on the school courts.

It’s more recent, toward the end of the season.

“Should I turn it off?” she asks.

But I just keep staring at her, unsure of what to say, torn between demanding her to stay and wanting her to want to.

Does she want to?

I say nothing, instead focusing on the screen as I shake my head.

She hustles from the room.

Several minutes go by, and I find myself chuckling when Royce dances across the court having dunked on Maddoc, completely unaware he’s flipping him off as he comes to me for a high five.

And then Raven’s voice is heard saying, “I don’t give a shit.”

I grin, wondering if she’ll be in this one, but then the screen is fumbled around, now facing the grass, a whispered, cut off “fuck” following.

My body jolts forward, and Zoey stirs in my lap so I quickly steel myself as the video ends, rolling right into the next one.

Wait.

I stretch my arms forward as much as I can, keeping my body in place as best possible, and grip the edge of the laptop, lifting it up.

Thankfully the cord attached to the tablet is long enough and it doesn’t fall, so I set the laptop on the cushion and tug the cord until the tablet is in reach.

I rewind the clip, listening carefully.

And I do it again and again until my shoulders fall.

I turn the volume up higher, playing it one more time.

“I don’t give a shit.” Raven chuckles.

Her voice isn’t close, some scrambling follows and then...

“Fuck.”

Fuck...

Victoria.

Chapter 14

Captain

Scooping Zoey into my arms, I slowly make my way to her room, laying her on top of her comforter and covering her instead with a thin sheet.

I feel her forehead once again, and slowly step out, pulling the door shut.

I go to step into my room, but for some reason I toss the tablet onto my bed and keep forward, straight down the hall until I’m outside of Victoria’s door.

I glance over my shoulder to find Royce’s is closed, and then face forward.

Hers isn’t, at least not all the way.

My palm flattens on the wood, and I push, my breathing growing more labored as it slowly sways open, revealing darkness inside.

But I see her.

So she does sleep in the bed, but not under the covers...

Her hair somehow glows against the deep blue pillowcase.

I know she’s awake, I hear her swallow.

I step inside, coming to stand at the foot of her bed as she pushes into a seated position.

Long blonde hair spills along her shoulders, falling all around her.

I make my way to the left side of the bed, and her neck cranes to follow.

My knuckles come up, but I don’t have to guide her, her head lifts on its own.

The darkness complies with my unspoken need, granting me vision and allowing me a glimpse of her face.

Hope and horror.

Such a deadly combination on you, Beauty.

She slowly slides her legs over the edge of the bed, the smooth sound of satin brushing skin sending an unforgiving zing down my spine.

Her posture raises, body begging to be closer to mine.

She’s the reason Zoey took the medicine, the reason she calmed enough to fall asleep.

She shouldn’t know how to do any of that.

She shouldn’t know my daughter at all.

But she does.

She made those videos, gave my baby something I couldn’t.

Gave me something...

My knuckle stretches out, my hand sliding down so I can grip the hollow of her throat and she pushes against my palm.

My fingers twitch against her warmed skin and she shudders, her broken breath reaching my lips.

My shoulders curl a bit, bringing me in more, and her hand comes up to grip my wrist.

Her hold is tight, but she shakes.

My pulse beats heavy in my palm, or maybe it’s hers that I feel spiking, growing faster and faster, louder and fucking louder.