Read Online Conviction by Kelly Loy Gilbert - Free Book Online Page B

“Where did it…come from?”
    “Oh, come on, wiseass, I got the letter home about how you’re doing sex ed. Don’t try to tell me you don’t know exactly where babies come from.”
    “So you’re its…dad?” A nod. “Then where’s its mom?”
    “Gone. Didn’t want him anymore. So now he’s ours.”
    Trey raised his eyebrows at my dad. “Really? Someone’s mom actually thought it was a good idea to leave him with
you
? Did you tell her how you—”
    My dad drew his hand back, and Trey flinched. He shut up, and my dad dropped his hand, relieved. He cleared his throat and gave Trey hesitant smile. “Surprise, huh?”
    Trey watched him warily for a second, then took a few more steps forward and crouched next to the bed and very, very lightly touched the top of my head. I made a sound like a baby seagull, and
Trey yanked his hand back and looked at my dad, his eyes wide. “Did that hurt him?”
    “Scared him. How should he know if he trusts you?”
    He watched Trey watching me. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous about what Trey might think.
    “Okay,” Trey said finally. “Well, that’s cool, I guess. I thought your surprise would be something mean. I want to hold him.”
    “You want to what?”
    “Well, what else do you do with a baby?”
    “Okay, well—” My dad swallowed, ran a hand over his head, then slid his hands under me. “Okay. Sit back against the headboard. No, scoot to the middle. Get away from the
edge.” He lifted me carefully. “You drop him,” my dad warned, “or hurt him in any way, I will wear you out. You hear?”
    “I’m sitting
down
. Where could he even
go
?”
    “This baby’s made of glass, understand? Don’t think I don’t know what you’re like. I know you. So you be more careful than you’ve ever been in your
life.”
    “I get it already,” Trey muttered. “You never trust me.”
    My dad was still reluctant. This, he’d told me, was the other thing about Trey: sometimes at night he’d lock himself in his room and my dad would hear thuds like he was punching
things, or muffled yells, and he kept the door locked so my dad couldn’t go in and see what was wrong. You always felt like one day a kid like that would just snap. But Trey was waiting, his
arms out, and this was the first time in months Trey had acted like he even wanted to be in the same room as him, so my dad took a deep breath and deposited me, painstakingly, into Trey’s
lap.
    “Here you go, buddy,” he told me gently. “This is your big brother, all right? This is Trey. Martin Raynor the Third.” He paused, then added, “My
firstborn.”
    Trey stared solemnly into my eyes and took in my stubby eyelashes and faint pale eyebrows. He held his breath and carefully petted the top of my head with his palm, and exhaled, pleased, when my
eyes found him. He looked up at my dad. “His mom really just didn’t want him anymore?”
    “Nope.”
    “Dumbass.” He ran his fingers over my wispy hair and fingered my earlobes, then half whispered, like he didn’t want to scare me, “Hi, Braden.” He stroked my arm. I
flailed the arm around and he offered me his finger, and when I grasped it, he broke into a smile. He lifted my hand and inspected the fingers one by one, then said, “Dad, look, did you see
he even has little fingernails? And
knuckles
. Look.”
    But Trey had moved too fast, or something, and I started to cry. Trey dropped my hand and tucked his arms around me tighter. “Crap. I didn’t do anything to him, I swear.” He
looked up anxiously at my dad. “I swear. I was just—”
    “Didn’t I tell you to be gentle?” My back arched, and my face turned bright red as my screams got louder. My dad snapped, “Give him back.”
    “Dad, I swear I didn’t try to hurt him. I wasn’t trying to make him cry.”
    My dad reached out and gathered me gently into his arms so I was cradled upright against his chest, then he shot Trey a withering look over the