“In what way is that?” Damon asked, trying to keep his question neutral.
“He has time for Remy. He doesn’t sugarcoat things. He teaches him about responsibility and what it’s like to be a man. Cash doesn’t shy away from things either; he does whatever it takes to provide for his family, and he makes sure there is food on the table. Neither one of them go hungry.”
Damon chose that moment to walk back over to the table Cash sat out. “He does that because of his own problems with hunger as a child. I would like to enter in Exhibit A. It’s Child Protective Services reports from when Cash was ten-years-old, around the age of Remy right now. Janet Sawyer was investigated multiple times for neglect. Cash fell through the cracks. We can’t let Remy do the same.”
He walked back over to where Harper sat. “Did you ever witness Cash doing anything to put Remy in danger?”
“No.” She shook her head. “The utmost respect was always given to Remy’s well-being.”
“What about the claims that Cash is friendly with the Heaven Hill MC?” he asked as he raised a brow and looked pointedly at the judge. Their plan was to answer any question that the other attorney might bring up first.
“He is friendly with them, but they have been nothing but helpful. He works at Walker’s Wheels doing oil changes and general maintenance on cars, they offer their assistance when money is tight, but I have never seen them ask him for anything in return. If anything, the guys from the Heaven Hill MC have taken both Cash and Remy under their wings, and they care about their well-being.” She spoke strongly, she spoke with conviction, and she tried to keep her voice from wavering. This meant so much, and she didn’t want to be the person to screw it up.
“Is there a proper roof over Remy’s head?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “The apartment may be small and there may not be a lot of luxuries, but Remy is well taken care of. That is the first thing on Cash’s mind when he wakes up in the morning and the last thing he thinks about before he goes to bed at night. He wants to do for his brother what his mother didn’t do for him. He wants Remy to grow up knowing a stable household and what it’s like to have someone care about him.”
“You had multiple run-ins with George and Janet Sawyer,” Damon addressed the table where they sat, looking like they hadn’t bathed in days. “Did they ever threaten you?”
“Not outright, but they were veiled.”
“Did they ever tell you why they wanted custody of Remy?”
She smiled, this was going to be fun. After all the things the two of them had done to her, to tell the judge what they had said…it was the best part of this whole experience.
“He’s a check. Remy has severe asthma, and if it isn’t controlled, he’s considered a disabled child—which means they’ll get a monthly check. If you pull his medical records and see who takes that child to the doctor, you’ll see it’s Cash. He doesn’t want Remy to be disabled due to his circumstance. He gives Remy every chance there is for him to get better. Cash is the one paying his doctor bills, taking him to the doctor, and doing his PT with him whenever he can. Not Remy’s mother, not Remy’s father. It’s his brother. His brother is the only person that’s ever cared about him.” She had to stop herself as she began to breathe heavily. She was getting worked up, and it would do none of them any good.
Harper dug her nails into her thigh as she saw the other attorney get up and walk towards her.
“What is the Red Bird Trail?”
She had been warned about this, and she’d been coached on what to say. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Remy’s parents saw you there, with Cash, on multiple nights in question. We have provided the court with the names of many participants.”
“Objection,” Damon yelled from his seat. “We were not able to corroborate any of their claims. Ms. Stillwell should not have to answer that question because none of the people mentioned accepted knowledge of The Red Bird Trail. Cash has no criminal record, no parking tickets, no speeding tickets. All he has is a fast, tricked-out car, which many young men his age have. Anything that Ms. Stillwell says will be heresay, because there is absolutely no one to back it up. There are sworn statements to that effect.”
The judge cleared his throat. “I’ll have to agree with Mr. Montgomery’s attorney on this. No one came forward when we questioned the list of people you gave us about this Red Bird Trail.”
Harper and Cash shared a smile, and tears came to her eyes as she thought of Slim, Rodrigo, and the rest of them protecting their friend.
When she finished answering questions from the other attorney, she stepped down and went to the seat she’d sat in at the back of the room. On pins and needles, she waited until she heard the words she’d wanted to hear for so long.
“Do you have any other witnesses to call?” the judge asked Damon.
“Normally this is where I would call Remy to the stand, but as we’ve discussed, Remy has severe asthma, and I’m worried that putting him on the stand would cause him unneeded stress. The court has his, as well as Cash’s, written statements. At this time, we rest, your honor,” Damon said with authority.
“This has been a difficult case. I don’t appreciate the name calling and the mudslinging the parents of this minor child have done, and I don’t appreciate them perceiving that the court will allow them to be a drain on the welfare system that is meant to help, not support. I think, all things considered, Remy is flourishing under the care of his brother, and I think he should remain in the custody of Cash Montgomery until he reaches the age of adulthood.”
She heard those words, allowed a few of the tears to fall, and then quickly made her way out of the family courtroom.
It would take a very long time, but she knew she would learn to love again, and she hoped that, maybe someday, she could again be with Cash.
*
An hour after the judge handed down the verdict, Cash stood with Remy, signing the paperwork that would officially make him his guardian. He looked at his phone and contemplated calling Harper. She was the one person who had been with him through this, had known how much this meant for him.
“Nobody is ever gonna split us up,” Remy smiled up at Cash.
“That’s right, my man; we’re stuck with each other.” He leaned down and gave Remy a hug, tightening his arms around the boy.
Remy pulled back. “Now all we gotta do is get Harper back. I miss her and pancake Saturdays.”
“Me too, buddy. Me too.”
He thought back to the one Saturday he’d tried to make pancakes the way she had. They’d turned out inedible, and the feeling of family wasn’t there. Remy had been upset, he’d been disappointed, and the only thing that would have made it better was having Harper with them. They’d both thought it, and both acknowledged it.
‡
Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
It had taken time for him to work up to this. Cash had started and stopped a million times, trying to decide on how he wanted to do it, and wondering if Harper would throw his attempt back in his face.
Remy had decided to spend the night with Jagger and B, and because he now had full custody, Cash knew he didn’t have to worry. His night was free, and this night, he’d decided he wanted to get Harper back. He was sick of telling Remy that he was okay. He wasn’t—neither of them were. They missed the piece of the family puzzle that they’d lost.
Parking in the familiar parking lot brought back a lot of memories. He remembered coming here just to see her when they’d first begun messing around; he remembered rolling up in this parking lot and seeing George with his hands around her. He wanted to make more memories here. He wanted to make better ones.
As she came out of the catering office, she saw him. He could tell. Her steps slowed down, and her mouth opened in shock. He stepped out of the car, carrying the bouquet of flowers he’d brought her.
“Hey.” He smiled. It was so good to see her. School wasn’t the same; she was so guar
ded every time he looked at her in the hallways. “I was hoping I would catch you here. These are for you.” He shoved the flowers into her hands and waited for her to make some kind of move, any kind of move.
“Cash, I don’t know what to say.”
He’d had this whole speech prepared, and as soon as he opened his mouth, all those words went to the wayside.
“Say you’ll come home, say you’ll forgive me. God, Harper, I need you in my life.” He clasped her hands with his.
“This is where we got in trouble before, Cash, moving so quickly. We didn’t know each other, we didn’t know each other’s secrets. We can’t do that again.”
He knew she was right, even though it killed him, even though it hit his gut like a steel-toed boot. “Then tell me what I can do, tell me what I need to do to fix this. My life isn’t the same; it’s not bright, and I can’t see all the colors I once saw. When we were together, I saw a way out, a way up from the bottom. I don’t see that anymore.”
Neither did she, but she didn’t feel comfortable telling him that.
“We need to be friends, Cash; we need to be friends who learn how to be lovers.”
He understood what she was saying, but he also knew how empty his life was.
“We can. We can do anything we need to do. I just need you to tell me if you’ll come home and give me another chance.”
She needed a place to stay, just like she had before. Most of her clothing was still at the apartment—as was her bed. “We can’t sleep together, Cash. Friends don’t sleep together.”
He put his arms around her waist and pulled her into a hug, letting that ground him in a way he’d missed for three weeks. “We’ll work up to that. We’ll do what we should have done in the first place.”
“I’m serious, Cash. We need to get to know one another.”
And get to know one another they would. He held out his hand for her and watched as she grasped it, before he pulled her over to his car, leaving hers behind.
“Where are we going, Cash?”
“Home,” he answered simply, out loud.
That answer seemed to pacify her as she breathed a sigh and leaned her head back against the seat.
In his head, he added, so I can prove to you that we belong together, and so I can show you just how much I love you.
Their story was far from over if he had anything to say about it.
In-Tune
The final story in The Red Bird Trail Trilogy coming in August!
About the Author
Laramie Briscoe is the best-selling author of the Heaven Hill Series & the Rockin’ Country Series.
Since self-publishing her first book in May of 2013, Laramie Briscoe has published over 10 books. She’s appeared on the Top 100 Bestselling E-books Lists on iBooks, Amazon Kindle, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. She’s been called “a very young Maya Banks” (Amazon reviewer) and her books have been accused of being “sexy, family-oriented, romances with heart”.
When she’s not writing alpha males who seriously love their women, she loves spending time with friends, reading, and marathoning shows on her DVR. Married to her high school sweetheart, Laramie lives in Bowling Green, KY with her husband (the Travel Coordinator) and a sometimes crazy cat named Beau.
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Other Books by Laramie
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Heaven Hill Series
Meant To Be
Out of Darkness
Losing Control
Worth The Battle
Dirty Little Secret
Second Chance Love
Rough Patch
Beginning of Forever
Rockin’ Country Series
Only The Beginning
One Day at A Time
The Price of Love
Full Circle
The Red Bird Trail Trilogy
Flagger
Collision
In-Tune
Also by Laramie Briscoe
Meant To Be
Heaven Hill Series #1
Prologue
Denise Cunningham pulled back the curtains covering the window pane in her front door with shaky hands. The knock that had sounded moments before wasn’t the gentle knock of a friend over for a visit. Staring back at her through the glass, she saw two Warren County Sheriff’s deputies holding papers. Dread rolled up in her throat as her stomach began to churn. She let the blinds fall and took two deep breaths before she unlocked the door and faced the men standing on the other side. As she stepped out, the brightness of the sun assaulted her eyes, the warmth of the summer day made it even more difficult to breathe past the lump in her throat.
“Denise Cunningham?” The taller of the two asked.
Not trusting her voice, she could only nod her head in acknowledgement of who she was.
With cold efficiency, he handed her the papers in his hands. “Denise Cunningham, I’m serving you with papers from Kentucky Housing.” He produced a pen and requested her signature.
In minutes it was over. The scene she had dreaded most over the last few months had come to fruition. Unless she could come up with six months back mortgage, she would lose her home. She stood frozen in shock as the officers walked away from the door and headed back to their patrol car. It almost made her laugh – the fact that they felt she, a single mother, was dangerous enough to warrant two deputies. As they pulled away, she realized her neighbors watched. Shame and embarrassment caused her face to burn as she slammed her door shut.
Tears came now, along with shakes that wracked her body. “God, please help me,” she whispered as she opened the packet of paperwork they had left with her. “What am I going to do?” Through the tears, she read the legal papers in her trembling hands. The amount due was more than she had seen in years. Especially now that her hours had recently been cut. She was officially screwed.
The shrill ringing of her cell phone broke into her freak-out. A number she had never seen before displayed on the screen, and she wondered if she should answer it. Along with the money she owed on her home, she owed thousands to credit card companies. They had also begun to hound her. Should she take the chance and answer it or let the voicemail pick it up? As she debated, her finger hit the accept button of its own accord.
“Hello?”
“Denise, this is Roni,” the voice on the other end greeted.
Roni was in fact Sharon Walker, another employee at the big box store where Denise had found a temporary job. They’d only spoken a time or two, and Denise hadn’t actually been sure the other woman would ever call her. To say this was a surprise was an understatement. But at this point, anything that took her mind off of what had just happened was welcome.
“Hey, Roni.”
“Did I catch you at a bad time? It took you a while to answer. I’m gonna ask you for a favor, so if you can’t do it, just let me know,” she forged ahead in a rush.
A bad time? Was it couth to tell a mere acquaintance that your home was about to be foreclosed on?
Clearing her throat Denise said, “Not at all. What can I help you with?” Accepting a favor for someone would possibly get her out of the house, the house that soon would no longer be hers. The walls were closing in, and she needed something to do. She needed something to work out halfway good for once instead of all the gloom and doom.
“Can you cover my shift for me tonight? I’ve got a little bit of an emergency with my brother, and I’m gonna need a few hours.”
Denise bit her li
p. She had heard rumblings about Roni’s brother. Word around town had it that he was part of a major outlaw biker gang called the Heaven Hill Motorcycle Club. Whatever Roni would be doing to help her brother would probably be illegal. Would that make Denise an accomplice?
“Would it make you a what?” Roni asked as Denise stood frozen with the phone to her ear.
Shit. She’d said that out loud. “Never mind. I’ll cover for you. What time do I have to be there?” Anything would be better than sitting here, worrying about things she had no control over.
Roni rattled off a time that would only allow her minutes to get dressed, head out the door, and make it there just in time to clock in. Quickly they hung up. Depression threatening to take over, Denise shoved the packet of paperwork under the pillow of her couch. With any luck neither of her children would see it. Their lives had been in as much upheaval as hers. They didn’t need to see this too – she felt like a failure as their mother.
Pulling out of her Plum Springs subdivision, Denise made her way to Louisville road which took her to the interstate. The interstate would take her less time than going through town. She made sure to take in her surroundings. Unless a miracle happened or she hit the lottery, her days living in this neighborhood were numbered. A red light stopped her right before she hit the interstate. To the left, blue lights could be seen swirling on top of police cars. Men were being handcuffed and put in back seats two at a time. It wasn’t unusual to see arrests right next to the interstate, but this time she noticed an influx of motorcycles. The gas station on Duntov Way, situated between a fast food restaurant and a liquor store, usually didn’t see a lot of motorcycles. The exception being Harley Weekend at the local dragstrip. With keen eyes, she got a good look at the patches that adorned the backs of the leather vests, or cuts as they called them, the men wore.
“Fuck,” she breathed, recognizing the patch on most of the men. The Heaven Hill insignia inside a skull. The bottom rocker on the cut indicated this was the Bowling Green Chapter.
Collision Page 10