Page 20 of Holding Ground

Emelia

Baylor sits on the bed in front of me while I weave her hair into a French braid around her crown. It’s not easy work, and it’s made even more difficult by her constant shifting.

“Does your dad usually do your hair every day?”

The question is my sly way of figuring out whether her mother is in her life. I haven’t seen a woman around the house in the past week, and from what I can tell, Baylor has been here every night, so I don’t think there’s a custody-sharing situation between Elliott and an ex.

Why am I so curious? I have no idea. But I am.

“Yeah. He tries hard, but he’s not very good at it.”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

I’m surprised that Elliott agreed to let Baylor come here and have me do her hair. When she asked me last night and I agreed, I thought for sure Elliott would shut down the idea. But she was knocking on my door bright and early, just like she said she’d be.

“All my friends’ moms do their hair. It always looks so pretty.” The longing in her voice causes my chest to tighten.

So I’m thinking, no mom?

I know what it feels like to be different from everyone else, even if you’re surrounded by love. And I may find Elliott irritating and presumptuous, but he loves his daughter very much and probably wishes she didn’t have to go through not having something most others do.

“Men have those big hands and thick fingers. It’s harder for them.”

She giggles.

I’m just finishing up when a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.”

I look over my shoulder as Elliott walks into the bunkie wearing jeans and a white T-shirt that stretches across his chest, betraying the lean muscle underneath. Can’t he look less jumpable?

“Morning.” I keep my voice even, although my pulse is hammering.

He glances around at the clothing strewn over every available surface, the food wrappers still sitting on the kitchenette counter, and lastly, the unmade bed. “The walk-in closet not big enough?”

My face heats because I’ve always been the messy one in my family, and they all loved to point it out. Mostly, I hate feeling inferior to him somehow.

I don’t bother answering him. Instead, I turn around and put the final touches on Baylor’s hair before resting my hands gently on her shoulders. “All done. Why don’t you go take a look in the bathroom mirror and see if you like it?”

“Be quick about it,” Elliott says. “We need to leave for school.”

“Yay!” She bounds off the bed and runs into the bathroom, forcing me to interact with Elliott.

Neither of us says a word. We each stand there in some sort of weird stalemate, as if we’re playing the childhood game of whoever speaks first loses.

Baylor bounds back into the room. “Thank you, Emelia.” She wraps her arms around my legs and squeezes.

“You’re very welcome.” I smile at her and notice from the corner of my eye that Elliott turns his back to us.

I inwardly roll my eyes. He probably doesn’t want to see his self-appointed enemy making physical contact with his daughter.

Baylor pulls away, gazing up at me with those big blue eyes that make me want to wrap my arms around her to keep the nasty shit in the world away. “You’re the best.”

“You have a good day at school, okay?”

She gives me a firm nod and then walks over to her dad, taking him by the hand. “Let’s go, Daddy. Gabrielle is going to love my hair.”

Elliott pushes the door open with his free hand, then glances over his shoulder at me. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he just nods and leaves.