Unworthy

by Cassia Brightmore

  "Thank you, Judge Clayton. I believe this is the best solution for everyone," Eve replied.

  "Maisie," Judge Clayton called her name. She raised her eyes to his, hers filling with tears she refused to let spill over. Confusion floated around her. She had to leave with strangers? She wouldn't be going with Mama? Scared, she gulped and waited for the Judge to say more.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Pierce, Eve Tate here will be your court appointed social worker. She'll be making regular visits and if there's any questions, you can contact her. Thank you for your generosity in opening your home. Good luck to you all, I'll see you back here in six weeks for an update. Court is dismissed." With those parting words, he rose from this seat and exited the room through a door to the right.

  The strange couple stepped forward and Maisie looked up into the soft brown eyes of a woman with curly blonde hair. The man beside her was very tall with glasses and a mustache. The woman carefully stroked her hair.

  "It's lovely to meet you, Maisie. We're going to take good care of you," she said. Her voice sounded funny, different that anything Maisie had ever heard before.

  "You sound funny," she blurted out before she could stop herself. The tall man chuckled.

  "You're right, we do. We have what you call an accent. Our home is England, and the British, we speak a little differently," he told her.

  A screech from across the room interrupted their bonding moment as Allison was being escorted from the Judge's chambers.

  "You can't do this! You can't steal my daughter! Maisie, you little shit, this is all your fault. You worthless, little piece of trash. I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance! I'll fucking make you pay, I'll—" the rest of her threats were silenced as the officer successfully dragged her through the doorway.

  That would be Maisie's last memory of her mother for a very long time. Staring up into the eyes of two strangers, she somehow knew her entire life was about to change.

  Present Day

  The steel hooks made a slight scraping sound as Maisie drew the shower curtain aside and stepped out onto the waiting rug. The air hitting her skin caused tiny goosebumps to rise as she reached for her towel and quickly wrapped it around herself as she started to shiver. The lukewarm water in the shower certainly didn't help ward off any chills, but she'd long since learned the lesson that if she showered first and used all the hot water, the consequences would be steep.

  Straining her ears, she was met with silence and she inwardly sighed with relief. Brant was still asleep. She'd been quiet enough doing her morning routine that she hadn't awoken him. It wasn't often that he rose before his alarm, but on the odd occasion that it did happen, she was the one to blame regardless if she'd been as quiet as a mouse or not. To say he wasn't a morning person was an understatement, a fact that Maisie had learned the hard way.

  Tugging a brush through her damp, light brown hair, she dressed in her favorite baggy blue jeans and slipped a loose fitting white t-shirt over her head. The coffee shop where she worked allowed its employees to dress in their own clothes, as long as the attire was appropriate, a fact she was grateful for, as it allowed her hide in ill-fitting clothing. After applying a light amount of make-up, she tiptoed out of the bathroom, and hurried down the short flight of stairs to the kitchen. Her damp hair fell down her back, not helping her ward off the chills, but she wasn't brave enough to risk using the hair dryer until Brant had finished at least his first cup of coffee.

  The sun was just starting to shine through the window above the sink when she entered and moved directly to the Keurig coffee maker sitting on the counter. Their home was not large, but Maisie loved it all the same. Three bedrooms, one bath and with a large backyard, it was all the space they needed. The selling feature for Maisie when they'd first seen it five years prior, had been the spacious attic. By some miracle, she was successful in convincing Brant to allow her to use the otherwise forgotten about attic as her own, and it now was her sanctuary. She'd easily transformed it into a simple studio with a few comfortable pieces of furniture, a shelf for her photography equipment and her most prized possession, her easel. Escaping to her studio and losing herself in her art was sometimes the only thing that helped her keep her sanity. The palpable fear that she'd one day lose just that small amount of joy she allowed herself was a living thing that walked beside her each day. It kept her alive, kept her pushing forward and learning more about her craft, in case the day came when she would no longer have the opportunity to explore just how far she could really go in her dream of becoming a full-time artist.

  Brant walked into the kitchen just as she was adding sugar to his coffee. He didn't take any cream or milk, just a little sugar. In another lifetime, when they'd first met, she'd teased him about liking his coffee black like his soul, and they'd shared a laugh over such a silly saying. Fast forward five years later, and no truer words had been spoken. Brant Coombes was a chameleon. He'd hidden his true colors from her, swayed and seduced her until they were living together after only just a few short weeks of dating. Effectively trapping her in a relationship that both terrified her and broke her heart at the same time. She'd truly thought she'd found someone that loved her for who she was, that wanted to share a life with her. Unfortunately, that was far from the case. Still, it was far better to dance with the devil than suffer the wrath of the unknown. Forcing a smile onto her face, she turned and offered him the mug of steaming liquid.

  "Good morning. Do you want some breakfast?" she asked.

  Brant accepted the mug and took a long sip. His cold blue eyes settled on her, regarding her without emotion. He was so handsome; Maisie remembered feeling flattered that he was interested in her, he surely could have had any woman he wanted based on his looks. He was tall, almost six foot, which had him towering over her own five foot five frame. He kept his dark hair buzzed short, sort of a military look, although he'd never served. His nose had a slight crook in it from being broken a time or two. He had once told her that when he was in his teens he'd been in and out of trouble. At the time, she'd found it hard to believe, he seemed so caring and considerate. Now that she knew better, it was almost embarrassing that she missed all the signs in the beginning.

  "Yeah. Unless of course you think its okay to send me off to work on an empty stomach. That would be just like you, lazy and selfish," Brant sneered. She cringed and moved past him to the refrigerator to gather up the ingredients to make a quick omelette and side of bacon.

  "I wasn't sure if you'd pick up a bagel," she said quietly as she broke the eggs into a white mixing bowl and started whisking together the ham and peppers. On occasion, Brant preferred a lighter breakfast and would stop on his way to the job site. He worked in construction, as a head foreman running his own crew.

  He didn't answer her as he took at seat at their round, wood table and opened the newspaper. The silence ate away at Maisie's nerves as she worried if an omelette was the wrong choice. Maybe she should have made french toast. Or maybe just regular eggs, sunny side up, the way he preferred. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip painfully as she skillfully flipped the bacon over in the pan and carefully poured the egg mixture into the other waiting frying pan on the stove. Chancing a glance over her shoulder at Brant, she was somewhat relieved to see that he didn't appear to be too angry, apparently the omelette was a good choice.

  After topping up his coffee, she plated up the eggs and bacon, and remembering to grab a bottle of hot sauce, carried it all over to the table and set it down in front of him. He waited a several moments until he finished reading his article, and then looked down at the plate.

  "Maisie," he said, his tone neutral. A breath of relief released from her, he was happy. She had done a good job.

  "Let me grab some napkins," she said, turning to grab a few paper towels. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist, twisting it painfully, forcing a squeak from her.

  "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, his eyes keeping her frozen to the spot. She thought fast. Eggs, bacon,
coffee, hot sauce, napkins. Oh...

  "Toast," she answered in a small voice, and Brant nodded. He released her with a tiny shove and she stumbled a few steps backwards. "I'll make it right now, I'm sorry, I don't know how I forgot, I worked too quickly and it slipped my mind. But, I'll get it, I'll fix it and—"

  "Just stop," he cut off her rambling. "I don't have time to wait around while you try to fix your fuck-ups." He picked up his fork and dug in. Maisie shifted from foot to foot, unsure what to do. Seeing her obvious distress, he offered her a rare reprieve. "Look, it's fine. I gotta get to the site." He took one last bite, gulped down the last of his coffee and crossed to her.

  Leaning down, he crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss meant to remind her who she belonged to, rather than wish her a nice day. The smile she offered him when he pulled back didn't reach her eyes.

  "Have a nice day, Brant. I'm sorry again," she said. Grabbing his hard hat from the hook by the door, he left her standing there, not acknowledging her sincere apology.

  "Do something about your hair, would you? You look like a wet dog," he called over his shoulder and slammed the door behind him. Ignoring the tears that filled her eyes and threatened to spill over, she gathered up the dishes and deposited them in the dishwasher. Her hair was only still wet as she didn't want to wake him with the noise. It never seemed to matter what she did, her consideration and efforts always went unnoticed. Defeat pushed her shoulders down as she made her way back to the bathroom to do what she was told and set her hair to rights. Staring in the mirror, she didn't recognize the person reflected back at her. Parts of her were missing. Stolen and claimed by him. He owned her. And possession can be deadly.

  "Here you go, have a nice day." Maisie handed the large, extra hot, skinny latte with extra foam to the burly man dressed similar to a lumberjack with an inward smile. Working at Coffee Time, a trendy coffee shop right in the heart of Tacoma, Washington, afforded her with the opportunity to see all sorts of people and tastes come through the door. Her customers were one of the shining points of her day, interacting with them gave her a sense of joy and belonging. At least at work, she felt she was a valued part of something.

  "Seriously, it always boggles my mind that big beefy dudes like that enjoy the girly drinks. He leave you a tip?" Greer Reid, her co-worker and closest friend asked. Maisie let out a giggle and held up two one dollar bills. "Well at least he knows his manners." Greer picked up a cloth and started wiping away spilled drops of coffee and granules of sugar, her short red ponytail bouncing as she worked.

  "Yeah, he was really nice," Maisie agreed as she opened a new bottle of vanilla flavor and inserted a clean pump. One of the perks of working there was the free coffee. A few shots of vanilla in her coffee was Maisie's favorite, she always made sure it was fully stocked for that little reason. Her thoughts turned to Brant. He never let her indulge in such things at home and if he knew she defied him at work, she'd definitely suffer the consequences. "You don't need to eat all that sugar and shit, Maisie. You think I want you getting fat? You already have shit for brains, a fucking coffee barista, or whatever the fuck you call it, for God's sake. And on top of that you're gonna balloon up into a whale now that you've trapped me? I don't fucking think so."

  She came back to the present when Greer flapped a napkin in front of her face. "Hey, where'd you go? You okay?" she asked, concern flashing in her green eyes.

  Her cheeks heated as she realized that she'd been caught staring into space as she played over the memory. Greer was giving her a strange look and they now had a line of customers waiting to be served.

  "I'm fine, sorry, just got lost in thought for a minute," she apologized, offering a weak smile.

  "Alright," Greer replied. She didn't look convinced, but thankfully let the matter drop. They worked in tandem for the next several minutes, heating sandwiches and mixing frappuccino's and espresso's. When they'd cleared the line, Greer announced that she needed to grab a few more cartons of soy milk from the back fridge and disappeared. Maisie busied herself making a list of what they were running low of in their baked goods section when she heard a subtle, "Ahem," from the other side of the counter.

  Realizing there was a customer waiting, she hurriedly put down her notepad and looked up. "Hello, I'm sor—" she broke off when she was met with the most gorgeous pair of dark brown eyes. Forgetting herself for a moment, she stared at him. He was perfect, everything about him made him a woman's walking wet dream. Tall, well over six foot, he had broad shoulders and arms so muscular, his biceps strained against the black t-shirt he wore. She wasn't sure of his hair color, as he wore a backwards hat, but she was sure it was dark to match his brows. A straight nose and full lips that were currently curled into a smirk completed what was surely the most handsome face she'd ever seen.

  A tattoo peeked up from under the collar of his shirt and creeped up his neck, giving him an air of danger. She found herself dying to know if his body adorned any other ink, and if so, where. Her eyes traveled down his well-toned chest and came to a stop at his belt buckle. Maybe there was one that lead down to his—

  "Eyes up here, sweetheart." His voice was smooth, and amused. Inwardly cringing, she snapped her eyes up to his as her face turned beet red. Oh, God. She'd been staring at his cock and he caught her! Kill me now. Please, someone take pity on me and kill me now.

  "Can I have you? Help. Can I help you?" Dying from mortification was a thing, right? What the hell was wrong with her? She'd never acted like this before in her life.

  The stranger didn't appear to be offended, he chuckled and leaned one elbow on the counter. "Sure. You can help me any way you like, sweet thing," he replied. "I'd like a Chai Tea Latte and just a regular black coffee, please."

  Maisie rung her hands together, fighting to get ahold of herself and quit acting like such an imbecile. "Yes, of course. Coming right up." She moved away from him and used the distance to take several deep breaths. She needed to get a grip, so he was hot as hell, so what? She'd seen hot men before. Her reaction was ridiculous. She was tired that was all, her emotions were all over the place from the scene that morning with Brant and re-living his derogatory comments only moments before. Taking a steadying breath, she walked back over to the stranger with his order.

  "Does anything else on the menu interest you?" she blurted out, and then could have happily stabbed out her own eyeballs. Why did it sound like she was offering herself up as tribute? He cocked a brow at her, his amusement at watching her internal war apparent. "I mean, a muffin, or a scone, or I could heat up one of our sandwiches," she rambled. "You know, if you wanted something else."

  He chuckled. "I think these will do, but thank you. You're very pretty when you blush," he told her and again sent her emotions into a tail spin, her face burning from the praise.

  "Um, thank you. That'll be $6.35," she mumbled, not meeting his gaze. He handed her a ten, and when their fingers touched, a spark went through her, a glimpse of chemistry dashed with a touch of desire. Hastily, she pulled her hand back.

  "Keep the change," he said and this time her head snapped up and their eyes locked once more. "See you around, Maisie," he said, looking pointedly at her nametag. He gave her a cocky wink and then was gone.

  "Fuck me sideways, who was that?" Greer demanded, appearing at her side. "Damn he is fiiiiine." She all but drooled on Maisie's shoe as she watched the stranger's ass until he was no longer in view.

  "I don't know. Just a customer," Maisie told her.

  "Just a customer? Come on, Maisie. You have eyeballs, that was one fine as fuck man. Tell me you got his number for me, I'm the single one here!"

  "No, I'm sorry I didn't think to ask," she said, smiling a little when Greer's shoulders slumped.

  "What a shame. Well, I'm going on break, be back in twenty." Greer flashed a smile at her and waved as she headed for the break room.

  Greer's words replayed in her head, "I'm the single one." She was absolutely right. Greer was single, not her. Maisie was
taken. The property of another man. She had no business even looking at another man. Guilt filled her over her actions, Brant was right. She was nothing but a screw-up. She deserved what she got and more. Much, much more.

  Don't forget about dinner tonight at 6pm. Maisie read the text from her sister, Blake, and let out a sigh. Since they'd both moved out of their parents' house, leaving them empty nesters, they tried to have a family dinner at least a couple times a month. While she loved the quality time with them, she hated having to hide her unhappiness. Keeping up pretenses wasn't always easy, especially under the ever penetrating stare of her father, Neil Pierce.

  I'll be there with dessert. She quickly texted back and then set her phone on the little table beside her easel. It was her day off, and since Brant was at work, that left her free to spend a few blissful hours in her studio, working on her next project. Picking up the 8x10 black and white photo she'd recently had developed it, she studied it for a few moments before setting it down and picking up her paintbrush. Photography was one of her great loves, capturing images and then seeing them in print gave her a sense of worth. A moment frozen in time by her lens. She'd fallen in love with the arts at a young age, and her first camera had been a gift from her parents. Since then, she'd spent every spare moment fine-tuning her craft.

  She created paintings from her photos. Developing her favorites, she used those as her muse and brought them further to life on canvas, further memorializing the images. Landscapes and nature were what she had the most experience with, but she hoped to one day be brave enough to photograph real people. Her current work in progress was a painting of Brant from a photo she'd snapped without his knowledge. Her hope was to give him the painting as a gift, in an attempt to have him accept her dream of becoming a full-time artist. A few more weeks and it would be ready, and with a little luck it would be the first step in him truly embracing the fact that she did have some talent and wasn't "wasting her time," as he liked to say about the hours she spent in her studio.