53.0

53.0
XAVIER

"If you uh..." I hesitated when she looked up at me. "If you need some time alone with her, I'll give you..."

"No. It's fine. Thank you. Can I... Can I see the dress you got for her?" She asked, her eyes lighting up a little.

That could do. I turned around and left her room, headed for mine. Five minutes, that was how long it took me to get the boxes to Harper to see. Truth be told, I loved the way her smile widened as she held each dress up.

"They're beautiful." She murmured, turning to stare at her daughter. "They'll look pretty on her. Absolutely gorgeous. Thank you so much, Xavy."

I arched my brows. "Xavy?"

She smiled, nodding. "Yes. It's a nickname. Don't you like it?"

I nodded, smiling despite myself. "It's good."

"So... what's the plan? Since you got a cake already... what are we doing? It's just four months. Not as if she's turning a year old."

"Still something. I mean, look at her..." I gestured at Nyla, who was now sitting in her crib with her back resting on the wood for support.

Harper nodded. "You're right. But still... I don't want to throw something big. It should be just us. You can..." She paused, averting her eyes. "You can invite any of your female friends. I'll cook."

Female friends? Was she actually being serious?

"Do you know what kind of girls befriend me?" I asked her, stepping closer to her.

She sighed. "I've seen some. And I know that the owner of this number you hid in here is one of them." She held up a piece of paper. Right. The same paper that the Skye girl had given to me yesterday.

"That's... that's..."

"Not very nice of you to hide this in here. It's my daughter's clothes, Xavier."

"I didn't hide that."

"Then... what's it doing here?"

I sighed. "Seriously! Don't be a fool. The lady is nice. She helped me pick the clothes for your daughter yesterday while you were attending parties and getting drunk to the stupor. She's a nice person, new to town and she even works in a nursery." I lowered my voice and added. "Sorry."

"It's fine." She murmured, looking away from me. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I guess you're never gonna let me see the end of this matter. She grimaced, standing up and dropping the clothes.

"Harper, those girls are not your friends. Trust me, once they find out you have a child... you'll see. You don't want to be hanging around with those girls."

Sincerely speaking, I was saying the truth. And she needed to know. I just hoped this time, she'd listen to me.

She nodded. "Noted.



HARPER

I turned away from him and reached into the crib. My finger's brushed against Nyla's skin. She looked up at me, her big, dark eyes blinking in slow motion, and then she saw me.

Her tiny arms jerked out, reaching. I pulled her against my chest and her tiny fist bunched into the fabric of my shirt, gripping it with a strength that seemed impossible for someone so small.

"Hey, baby girl," I cooed. "Let's get you into one of these pretty dresses, okay? For your big day."

I moved to the changing table. But the second my skin lost contact with hers... she let out a whimper. I shouldn't have put her down. I picked her up again, fumbling with the floral fabric, trying to slide it over her head, and she immediately buried her face into the crook of my neck, hiding from the world.

"She’s extra clingy today," I muttered, half to myself. "She won't let go of my shirt. It’s like she knows..."

"Knows what?" Xavier asked.

"I don't know. Just... the vibes in here. She’s sensitive." I struggled with the tiny plastic buttons on the back of the dress. They were so small, and my fingers were trembling so badly that I couldn't get the loops to catch. It was frustrating.

Being a mom was frustrating.

"Here," Xavier said, stepping into my space. He didn't wait for permission. His large hands moved into my field of vision. He gently untangled Nyla’s tiny, stubborn fingers from my shirt. "Let me take her. You go... do whatever it is you gotta do. Get ready. I’ve got her."

I hesitated, my arms feeling suddenly empty before I’d even let go. Then, I handed her over.

Nyla let out a small, grumbling protest, a little 'muh' sound, but she settled against Xavier’s shoulder. Her little thumb found its way to her mouth, and she went still.

I took a deep breath, heading to the bathroom. After taking a long, refreshing bath, I pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail.

Ten minutes later, I was downstairs. The house was unnervingly quiet. I knew Clara had work to do but I couldn't say the same for Damien.

I still inhaled the smell of vanilla frosting on the birthday cake Xavier bought. It was sitting on the counter in the kitchen. I did appreciate his gesture, I really did.

But Nyla couldn't eat cake.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I turned to Xavier. "Are you expecting anyone?"

He frowned, shrugging. "No. Are you?"

No. I wasn't expecting anybody. The knock came again. I sighed, shaking my head and walking with Xavier behind me to get the door.

A man and a woman were standing outside. Now, don't get me started on their clothes. You'd know. From just one glance. They were dressed in matching charcoal-grey suits. The first thought was that they were here for Clara. Maybe her business partners or something...

But when they didn't say a word, I had to ask.

"Yes? Hello?" I said, forcing politeness into my voice. "Can I help you? Who are you here for?"

"Good morning," the woman said. "Are you Harper Collins?"

"I am." My grip on the door handle tightened. How the hell did she know my name?

"We are with Child Protective Services," she said.

CPS? Here? But... why? I opened my mouth to get a word out, then I closed it again. I could feel the colour draining from my face. "C-Child services? I... I don't understand. Is there something wrong?"

"May we come in, Ms. Collins?" the man asked. He didn't wait for me to say yes. He took a half-step forward, his shadow falling over the threshold, looming over me.

"No," I said, and my voice was suddenly higher, thinner. "No, you can't just... I’m busy. It’s my daughter’s birthday. We’re having cake. Why are you here?"

"Ms. Collins," the man said. He lowered his voice to a low, warning register that made my skin crawl. "It would be in your best interest to cooperate. If we have to return with law enforcement to conduct this welfare check, the tone of this investigation will change significantly. Do you understand?"

My heart wasn't just beating anymore. It was full on slamming against my ribs. I reluctantly stepped back and I let them in.

Xavier walked forward from the living room, giving me a 'who are these' look. He was still holding Nyla, thank God.

"What the hell is this?" He asked.

The woman looked at Nyla. A small smile touched her lips, but I could tell it didn't reach her eyes. "What a beautiful baby," she said.

"I asked you a question," Xavier snapped, moving his body directly in front of mine, shielding me. "What do you want?"

"We’re here to follow up on a high-risk report," the woman said. "We deal with many cases involving... unconventional living situations. Specifically regarding teenagers in possession of infants. It’s a delicate balance, ensuring the child’s safety when the parent is, legally, nearly a child themselves."

I stared at her, my eyes growing hot and misty. My throat felt like it was being squeezed by invisible hands. I looked at her clipboard, at the gold official seal, and my mind started racing and thinking.

Who the hell called them? Someone did. They wouldn't just know and be here.

"What does that have to do with us?" Xavier asked. "The baby is fed. She’s clean. She’s loved. Look at her. Does she look neglected to you?"

"We received a detailed report regarding a reckless teenage mother," the woman said, and this time she looked directly at me, past Xavier. "The report suggests the primary caregiver has a baby below six months and is frequently engaging in substance abuse and neglectful behavior."

"I'm not reckless," I whispered. The words barely made it past my lips. "I love her. I do everything for her."

"We have evidence, Harper," the man said. He reached into a manila folder and pulled out a set of glossies. He held them up, one by one.

My stomach dropped at the photos. It was me. From last night. With the stupid thin dress those girls had made me wear. I had a red Solo cup clutched in my hand. In the next photo, I was slumped, looking completely and utterly wasted.

"The report states you drink to excess and attend parties while leaving the infant in the care of various individuals. It suggests the baby may not be safe in this environment."

"That was... that was just last night!" I gasped. "I made a mistake. One night! I’m not that person and I... I didn't even leave her alone, she was with Xavier!"

Xavier stepped forward. "You need to leave. Now. Get out of this house before I make you leave."

Nyla, startled by the pitch of his voice, stiffened. She burst into a panicked, high-pitched wail. I shook my head, shutting my eyes. Please baby girl, not now.

The social worker immediately scribbled something on her pad without looking down.
"Emotional distress and a volatile environment," she muttered.

"Give her to me," I lunged forward. Xavier handed her over, and the second she was in my arms, I tucked her head under my chin, shielding her. I could feel her heart beating against my collarbone.

I turned to face the two strangers, my vision blurred by my tears. Of course. Tears! I didn't flee from... Jamie... to come here and get my baby taken from me.

"She's all I've got," I said. "I made a mistake. I went to a party. I got drunk once. But I am her mother. I grew her. I wake up with her every hour of every night. I am the one who knows exactly how she likes to be burped and which song makes her stop crying."

I pulled Nyla tighter, wrapping my arms around her until she was completely shielded by my body.

"I don't care what anybody says. I don't care about your photos or your reports. Nobody is taking my little girl."

The woman looked at the man. There was a long silence where the only sound was Nyla’s receding whimpers and the ticking of the clock in the kitchen.

"We aren't here to remove her today, Ms. Collins," the woman said calmly, though her eyes were busy, scanning the room, the furniture, the kitchen, looking for any other sign of disarray, to write down. "But we are opening a formal investigation. There will be mandatory drug testing, home visits, and a hearing."

“I understand,” I said, lifting my chin anyway. I had to appear tough. “You can investigate whatever you want. But you’re not taking her. Not now. Not later. Not ever.”

Xavier’s hand came to my back and Gosh! He didn't know and would never understand how grateful and safe I was when I felt his touch.

The man cleared his throat. “Ms. Collins, cooperation will reflect positively...”

“I am cooperating,” I snapped, cutting him off. “But don’t mistake that for weakness. You want to test me? Fine. I’ll pee in a cup. You want to come into my home? Do it. You want to ask questions? I’ll answer every single one.”

I took a step forward. Just one.

“But you don’t get to talk about me like I’m some careless mad woman who stumbled into motherhood by accident. You don’t get to reduce me to pictures taken on my worst night.”

The woman’s pen paused.

“I'm nineteen, okay? Nineteen. And I was eighteen when I had her. I didn’t dump her on anyone. I didn’t disappear. I stayed. I learned. I messed up, yes... but I showed up this morning. I dressed her.”

"Bad mothers don’t fight like this,” I said quietly. “Bad mothers don’t stand between their child and strangers and say no.”