by Faye Byrd
Her hand flies back and swings, clipping the corner of my chin before I grab her wrist in a tight hold. “Don’t even think about it, you psychotic bitch.”
It feels as if everyone in the hallway has stopped moving and all eyes are on us, but I can give a fuck less. This bitch has skulked around long enough. It’s time she gets on with whatever the fuck she’s planning so we can get rid of her once and for all.
A throat clearing disturbs the deathly silence, and Kennedy swivels her head toward the voice, her shoulders slumping in relief. “Thank goodness you’re here. This man is trying to assault me,” she cries, pretending to be a woman in distress.
“Looks to me like you were the one to assault someone, ma’am,” the throat-clearer says with authority, and I recognize the voice.
My glare becomes a smirk. Releasing her wrist, I turn to greet Joel Masters, the investigator in charge of our case. “Investigator, I’d like to press charges.”
He steps forward and removes his cuffs. “Please turn around and place your hands on the wall,” he says to Kennedy.
I step back and cross my arms, watching the scene unfold with only mild satisfaction. I wish this never had to happen at all.
“What? No, I didn’t do anything. You saw him gripping my arm. I’m the one who should be pressing charges.” She’s rubbing her wrist with a grimace, trying to make her point.
“That’s not what I saw. I witnessed you strike Mr. Ashby, and since he’s pressing charges, my hands are tied. Now, if you’ll turn around and place your hands on the wall we can take care of it, and you’ll be out in a couple of hours.” He steps forward and guides her into position before cuffing her wrists behind her back.
“You’re making a mistake. I just want to see my son.” She has fake tears trailing down her cheeks. “I’m his mother. You can’t keep me away,” she yells as Investigator Masters leads her from the hospital entrance.
The past thirty minutes feel like an out of body experience as I watch her struggle against his hold through the clear, glass doors. Kennedy is here, and she’s all too real. Our time of wondering and waiting is over. Now we just need to prepare ourselves for what comes next.
Once they’re long gone, I sigh and make my way toward the elevator, receiving the errant side-eye as I go. During the ride up, I take deep breaths, working to release the tension she caused. This is a momentous day. My sons are reunited, and no-fucking-body can taint it.
Not even her.
I wipe her from my mind as I walk back to the family who means everything to me. Taking one final deep breath, I push open the door with a smile. What I see causes my heart to stutter in my chest.
This is my life.
This is what I live for.
This is what I will fight for.
My family, my wife and sons, are all curled together on Cam’s bed while Easton reads to them. Their eyes are heavily lidded, almost closed, as she quietly relays Max’s adventures. Neither boy even notices my arrival so happy in their little cocoon of togetherness.
I very quietly make my way to the chair in the corner to sit and watch. Easton’s eyes find me once, but she doesn’t even miss a word. My answering smile is enough to let her know that, for now, we’re okay.
After the boys have held out as long as they can, and both sets of eyes are closed, my wife makes her way over to nestle on my lap. I pull her body close, reveling in the comfort her scent brings.
With her head tucked beneath my chin, she finally speaks. “What does she want, Trystan?”
I squeeze her tighter to me. “I don’t know for sure, baby. Whatever it is, she’s not getting it. I promise you that. Right now, she’s on her way to jail.”
She lifts her head, her blue eyes bright and curious. “What? I mean I called my dad right away but jail?”
I chuckle and kiss her cute nose. “Of course you did. That explains why Joel showed up just as she was making a sad attempt to slap me.”
“She slapped you!” she exclaims, her body stiffening. “Why that—”
“Baby, stop it.” I tug her close until she relaxes and tucks her head back into position under my chin. “I had her arrested since she actually did make contact with my chin.”
She starts giggling, the movement causing her hair to tickle my nose. I smooth it back with my palm and press a kiss to her head. Then I sigh. “You know this won’t be the end of her, though, right? They can’t keep her long.”
Her head bobs against my chest. “I know.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I tighten my hold. “You know I’ll never let her near our boys, though, right?”
“I know, Trystan,” she says quietly.
“We’ll figure it out, Easton. I promise.”
Day 23
With Cam doing so much better, the need for us to be constantly by his side is fading. Yesterday, Easton and I both spent the afternoon at home with Blake while Amelia stayed with Cam. The day before that Weston and Ryder sat with him for a couple hours while we ate in the cafeteria and went to MUMC to meet with Katherine to discuss the Kennedy situation.
At this point, it’s not a hospital matter, but since she was arrested for battery while at MUP, it gave Katherine a little leeway. She’s now officially banned from entering the premises for the duration of Cam’s stay.
Today, I’m at home and making lunch while we wait for my brother’s family to arrive. Kari and the kids are going to hang here while Coop and I go visit Cam. I could’ve easily dropped Blake off, but Kari would never give up an opportunity to eat my cooking.
Blake is at the bar, legs dangling, his heels tapping against his chair. He points those irresistible puppy dog eyes toward me. “How many more days ‘til I can see Cam again?”
I assemble the final sandwich, slide the pan into the oven and walk over to prop my arms on the bar top across from him. “Dude, the doctor said you can visit two times a week.”
“Okay.” He shrugs. “When that?”
I chuckle and shake my head at his cute self. “You can go again on Tuesday.”
He holds up his hands, fingers spread wide. “How many days? Show me.”
I lift my hand and hold up two fingers. “Two days, bud.” He closes all his fingers but two and stares at them. “But Uncle Coop and your cousins will be here in just a little bit. Aren’t you excited to see Violet?”
“Her can’t play wif me,” he says with a shrug.
“No, dude, she can’t play yet, but Blaine and Carson can.” I go to the refrigerator to grab the stuff for a salad.
“Okay.” He props his chin on his little fists. “I can play wif Blaine and Carson then.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” I joke, shaking my head.
He rolls his eyes. “I happy they comin’, but I rather play wif Cam.”
My shoulders slump at his truth, so I make my way around the bar and lean down where I’m facing him. “I know, dude, and I’m sorry. Cam would rather play with you, too.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Soon, okay?”
He nods slowly. “Okay, Daddy.”
“Atta boy,” I say, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
As I pull the sandwiches from the oven, I hear my brother yelling from the front door. “Anybody home?”
“In here,” I call, setting a couple more plates at the bar for the boys.
As soon as they enter the kitchen, I head to my niece. Taking in her angelic, sleeping face almost brings tears to my eyes. “Let me set out lunch and wash my hands so I can hold her,” I say as I give Kari a kiss on the cheek.
After everything’s been moved to the bar for the boys and the breakfast table for Coop and Kari, I wash my hands and take Violet. “You guys eat, and I’ll be over here with this angel.”
“So what’s the plan for Kennedy,” Coop asks as we’re in the elevator on the way up to see Cam.
I lean against the wall and heave a huge sigh. “Pray she goes away and never comes back?”
“I hear ya, but you know that isn’t happening, righ
t? She wouldn’t have shown up if she wasn’t planning on making waves,” he replies, shaking his head.
“I know, man. Fuck!” I grab for my hair, only to realize it still isn’t long enough to tug. “I don’t like knowing she’s out there waiting, pondering her next move. It makes me insane.”
“Why don’t you be preemptive? Find her and pay her off?” he suggests, narrowing his eyes.
The elevator dings and the doors open. I nod for him to go ahead “If I give her that power now, what’s to say she’ll stop? Will she show up every couple of years demanding more?”
“Fuck.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, man. Might as well nip it in the bud this time so she can’t come back.” He stops and grabs my arm before we get to Cam’s door. “Do you think she has a legal leg to stand on?”
My first thought is to flat out deny the idea, but does she? My attorney has already warned how the courts can take an ironclad agreement and find fault, so why wouldn’t there be a chance for her? This is a battle I’m not sure I’m ready to face. I’d kill the bitch before I ever let her pretend she’s Cam’s mother.
Cam has one mother, and her name is Easton.
“It’ll never happen.” My voice is filled with steel.
When we enter Cam’s room, I’m surprised to see both our dads present. Mine starts toward Coop and me. “Son.” He greets Coop with a man-hug before turning to me with the same. When he pulls back, he gives me a stern look. “We need to talk.”
I nod. “We do, but later, okay?”
Before he can say anything more, Harold approaches. “Trystan,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Just wanted to stop in and let you know that you now have a restraining order.” My eyes widen. “I couldn’t get one for the whole family, but I figured even you was better than nothing.”
“Thank you, Harold, I don’t know what to say,” I tell him, shocked that he’s not ready to bash in my head.
“Son, I know you didn’t want this, and even though it pisses me off that it’s happening, I can’t blame it on you,” he says, giving my shoulder an oddly comforting squeeze.
“Oh my God!” Easton exclaims, drawing our attention. She’s pointing at the TV with one hand, her other covering her mouth.
Coop rushes over, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume. Her voice reaches my ears before I even get to where I can see the TV.
“Not only have I been banned from the hospital where my son is, but I was also arrested,” Kennedy tells the reporter. He’s standing beside her with his microphone held out to capture every word.
My jaw clenches.
“And how did you find out about your son’s illness,” the reporter asks, shoving the microphone closer.
My fists ball at my sides.
“Facebook,” she answers, looking directly at the cameras, fake sorrow coming out of every fake pore. “I found out that my son is sick through Facebook.” She focuses on the ground, seemingly heartbroken over this development.
My nostrils flare.
“What do you intend to do now, Mrs. Ashby?” the reporter pushes.
“That lying bitch.” My nails dig into my palms so hard I’m sure there will be indentations.
She turns her teary stare back to the camera. “It looks like I have no choice. This has become a legal matter now. All I can do is plea to the courts to give me access to my son.”
I bolt.
I storm from the room, ignoring the voices calling me. I can’t be in there right now. I’m on the verge of an explosion. My walk turns into a jog, and I flee. I don’t know where I’m going or when I’ll be back, but my mind is racing, raging out of control.
Pushing through the hospital doors, I break into a run. My body takes over and propels me while my mind churns with thoughts of murder. It’s arguing back and forth with itself, making up plans and shooting them down.
When my breaths turn into gasps and my feet will no longer move, I finally lean against a tree and pant to suck in oxygen. After I catch my breath, I survey the area around me, and it all looks unfamiliar. I have no idea where I am or where I’ve been.
I’m a man lost.
Lost in the physical sense. Lost to the rage that consumes me. Lost inside my head to the thoughts. The evil, sadistic thoughts that my mind is conjuring.
I want to scream. I want to hide. I want to kill. I want to build a wall between my family and the world. I want her to not exist.
But she does.
Heartache consumes me, but not for myself. For my family. The family Kennedy’s trying to tear apart with her desperate attempt at motherhood. The family I just ran from.
So I run again.
I run until I’ve found my way back and when I burst through the hospital doors, Easton stands from a plush chair near the entrance. She rushes to me, and I envelop her in my embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper over and over like a mantra, so fucking grateful that she’s here.
“Shhh,” she soothes, holding onto me as tight as she can.
Tears roll down my face as shame runs through my body. How could I have ever run from this? No matter the cause, this is worth the fight. Cam is worth the fight.
“Please, forgive me, baby,” I beg into her ear. “I fucked up.”
She pulls back and grasps my cheeks between her hands, wiping my tears with her thumbs. “There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t do this. Forgive yourself, and let’s figure out how we’re going to take this bitch down.” Her watery blue eyes are glimmering with a spark I’ve seen only once before.
Right before she slapped me.
9 Wrong Way
Easy
Day 24
When I came downstairs to wait for Trystan yesterday, both of our dads followed, leaving Cooper to spend some time with Cam. My dad waited around as long as he could, but his lunch break was dwindling. For his part, Reed stayed a little longer, but the silence stretched between us until he finally gave up and left, but only after insisting I have Trystan get in touch with him.
Trystan’s parents are a conundrum of sorts. After spending most of the first week Cam was in the hospital in Atlanta, they returned home and didn’t come back until Thanksgiving. But Thursday night, as soon as they heard about Kennedy, they took a flight and have been here ever since.
To say I was surprised when Reed and my father walked into Cam’s room yesterday would be an understatement. Apparently, he called my dad of his own accord and demanded a meeting. He somehow feels the need to personally oversee how this turns out, as it’s already been blundered once in his mind.
“What time are Harold and my father supposed to arrive?” Trystan asks as he helps Cam back into the bed.
“My dad said one,” I reply, glancing at the clock on the wall. “You should have time to read to him before we go.”
“Yeah, Daddy, I tired,” Cam says as he slides underneath his blanket.
Trystan tweaks his nose and grabs one of his books from the bedside table. “Scoot over, dude. One nap story coming right up.”
Cam wiggles his little body over so Trystan can stretch out beside him and open the book. Hearing the steady hum of his voice as he reads quietly to our son is almost too much for my sappy heart to handle.
The door opens and Amelia pokes her head around it, her eyes falling on my duo first before scanning to me. She smiles and approaches as quietly as she can, taking Trystan’s vacant seat beside me. “Aren’t they adorable,” she whispers, leaning close but keeping her eyes focused on the bed.
“I’m used to it, and it still makes my insides all mushy,” I agree, watching as Cam’s eyes fall closed and reopen slowly. “Doesn’t it just make you want one of your very own?” I nudge Amelia’s shoulder.
“A husband or a kid?” she asks, her eyes flicking to me.
I shrug innocently. “Either.”
“Is this your subtle way of asking how things are going with Brandon?” she retorts with a secretive smile.
“Not necessarily,” I say,
pretending I have no clue what she means. “But since you brought it up.”
She laughs softly and covers her mouth, checking to make sure she didn’t disturb Cam. “Things are nice. He visited the weekend before Thanksgiving and asked if I’d come to Chicago for New Years, but we’re taking things slow.”
“Are you exclusive?” I ask, knowing my friend well enough to feel the question is warranted.
She tilts her head and sways her hand in a “so-so” motion. “It’s not a requirement between us, but so far I’ve been.”
“And him?” I ask, lifting a brow.
My usually perky, outgoing friend actually blushes. “He said he hasn’t seen anyone else.”
“Oh, my. Amelia has a boyfriend,” I whisper-sing-song while she shakes her head and gives my shoulder a shove.
“Maybe.” She shrugs, and we break into a fit of quiet giggles.
Trystan clears his throat, drawing our attention to where he’s standing a couple of feet away with his arms crossed. “What’s going on over here?”
Amelia hurriedly stands. “Nothing at all,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me from my seat. “You two were on the way to a meeting, remember?”
Trystan smirks at her. “We do have a meeting, but we’ll return to this topic when we get back.”
As the door closes behind us, I push closer to Trystan’s side with a giggle. “Can you imagine her in there fretting over telling you all the intimate details of her and Brandon’s courtship?”
“Courtship?’ he asks with a laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
“You know what I meant,” I say with a playful eye roll. “But really, things sound promising between them.”
We step into the elevator, and Trystan releases my hand to tuck me under his arm. “We’ll just have to see, I guess.” I feel his shrug more than I see it. “It’d be nice to see Brandon settle down, and the fact that Amelia lives in Atlanta doesn’t hurt. I’d love to have him around more.”
“That’d be nice. A little incentive to move this way and help with your new restaurant,” I comment lightly. “I’ll get Amelia on that.”