Page 8 of His Custody

It was funny, in a way. The rest of Jasper’s house was all dark colors and musky brown leather—she could imagine him playing poker, drinking whiskey, and smoking cigars in almost any room. But he’d had a work crew there who’d made one of the guestrooms a lot more comfortable, even though all the pastel colors and softness probably made him twitchy.

“You understand we’re here to decide who’s going to be named your legal guardian until you turn eighteen?”

“Yes.”

“Your aunt and uncle, Mr. Andersson, and everyone here want what’s best for you.”

She blinked and the judge looked back at her, the raise of her eyebrows asking for confirmation, but Keyne couldn’t give it to her. The only person she believed in in the whole room, maybe in the whole world, was Jasper, and the thought of being sent away with someone else made her feel like she was drowning.

And there it came, a crashing wave of panic, like she was back in the open ocean, not knowing if anyone would come for her, and half wishing they wouldn’t. She couldn’t breathe. “Please don’t make me go with them.”

“Who, Keyne?”

“My aunt and uncle. I don’t know them. I don’t want to go to Miami. I want to stay here. I want to stay with Jasper. Please.” Her fingers were clutching in her skirt and she wanted to dig her nails into her thighs. Her voice was shaking and she hated that everyone could hear her begging, on the verge of tears. She might be sick. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up in the morning to Gavin’s puzzled face.

“What were you dreaming about, Tiki?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she’d tell him, not wanting to upset him, not wanting his eager puppy face to fall. “It was a dream. It’s over now.”

She closed her eyes tight, tight and tried to keep her tears in. But she ended up sobbing. “I can’t—lose—anything—else. Please.”

She crumpled in on herself, feeling like an empty soda can being crushed, all awkward angles, empty spaces and jagged edges digging into each other. There was noise, but it all sounded the same to her: far away, buzzy and not real. Maybe people were yelling and the judge might have banged her gavel but it was hard to tell with all the scrap heap compactor noises in her head. Until someone laid a hand over hers and she opened her eyes. They were blurry with tears, but she could see him. “Jas.”

He leaned in close, put a hand on her shoulder. “No matter what happens, Keyne, I swear to god you will be with me. It might not be today, and it might not be tomorrow, but even if they send you to Miami, I promise I will come for you. I don’t care how much it costs, what laws I have to break. I’ll break every one there is, spend every penny I have to get you back. Cross my heart. But you have to do something for me. You’ve got to be good, Tinker Bell, no matter what happens.”

A laugh, high-pitched and hysterical, shredded through her, burning her lungs. She shouldn’t be laughing, but it had to get out. He’d called her Tinker Bell. No one had called her Tinker Bell since... since she was eight.

Jasper had graduated from college and they were celebrating out on the boat. She’d thrown an epic tantrum because she was sick of being called Tallulah. Tallulah Tinker Bell. No one takes you seriously when they call you Tallulah Tinker Bell and she wanted people to take her seriously, because, dammit, she was serious.

She’d stormed down to her bunk and thrown herself into the berth. She’d thought Gavin would come, but it was Jasper who’d knocked and come in even when she told him to go away. He sat on the bunk while she turned away from him and clutched her Peter Pan doll.

“I came to tell you there’s cake.”

“Cake?”

“Yeah. I graduated from college. It’s kind of a big deal. I would’ve yelled, but I didn’t think you’d answer to Carrot Top.”

She rolled over to glare at him. If there was anything she’d hated being called more than Tallulah Tinker Bell, it had been Carrot Top. “I hate you.”

“I’m just a guy trying to give a girl some cake.” He’d shrugged. “So what’ll it be?”

Her glare softened slightly. At least he’d asked. “I don’t want to be Tallulah Tinker Bell anymore.”

“Okay. Who do you want to be?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“Cross my heart.”

She’d taken a deep breath, willing him to keep his word.

“Keyne.”

“Cain? As in Cain and Abel?”

“No, dummy. Like Keyne my middle name. Isn’t college supposed to make you smart? Who are those other guys anyway?”

“No one you need to worry about.” He’d stuck out his lower lip and stroked his chin like the villains in cartoons, except it had looked like he was thinking in a less mean way. “I think Keyne could work.”

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