by Xavier Neal
“Do they have those?” Wyatt eagerly asks. “Seriously, is that a thing that I’m just now finding out about?”
I roll my eyes at his antics. “You’re a fucking moron, bro.”
“Genius of a generation.”
“Calm it down, Kanye,” Holden chastises, just as Meena plops her feet in his lap.
“Light the Path in Lingerie was a one mile walk in your naughty night wear across campus while holding a flashlight. The proceeds were donated to an organization that worked to help find missing children. The point of the flashlight was to help ‘light their path’ home,” Nate explains. “It was Pax’s idea.”
Their eyes turn to me and heat burns around the rim of my neck.
Didn’t do it then for the attention.
Damn sure don’t want it now.
“You did that?” Ryann sweetly coos up at me. “Because of-”
“Because parents who love their children deserve the help to bring them home,” I rush to say, reminding her of the secret I’m not ready to share just yet.
She gives my side a sweet stroke of understanding.
It’s not that I don’t trust my bros with the information about Julez…I just…I don’t wanna relive that nightmare again and again. I don’t wanna expose the weakest parts of my past. I don’t wanna explain and exam why I’m overprotective to this day. It’s not a necessity. At least not yet. Someday, I’ll let them in on that secret.
They’ll probably find out when Ryann and I get engaged, and I demand she’s in the wedding.
It can wait until then.
I don’t need extra attention on my life.
Introducing them to Ryann is enough for now.
“The lingerie was my idea!” Wyatt speaks up, taking the spotlight off of me. “I wanted an excuse to see chicks half dressed in a more public setting than our parties.”
“Legally,” I emphasize. “You legally wanted to see them like that.”
He snaps his finger at me. “Good point.”
After we share a laugh, Nate adds, “That started fall of our sophomore year.”
“Not sure any of the girls would’ve agreed in the winter. No one wants to cut glass with their pezones for charity,” Meena snickers.
“Junior year, Wyatt made it a bit more interesting, with a little bet.” Holden smirks.
“What was the bet?” Ainsley eagerly asks.
“Wyatt bought five different types of salsa. Whoever could eat the most of the hottest got to choose what the others wore,” Nate begins.
“And like a bitch, you didn’t even make it past salsa number one,” I mention.
His young face flushes while Ainsley makes a teasing face at him.
“Holden made it to three,” Wyatt recalls, “which explains how he handles his own little hot tamale now…”
He narrows his eyes in response. “Don’t make me punch you.”
Meena gives him a loving stroke on the arm.
“Which just leaves you and Pax,” Ryann points out. “Who won?”
“Define won,” I grumble.
Her eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“Technically, Pax ate more bites of the hottest salsa than I did.” Wyatt grows a weasel like grin. “But he threw up almost immediately after we finished.”
“And spent the next like four hours shitting,” Holden starts to laugh.
Nate nods between chuckles, “The diaper jokes were ongoing.”
“Which is why we then had to wear diapers for the walk,” Wyatt finishes.
I coldly smirk. “Justice. Served.”
Laughter floods the room and Ryann holds me a bit tighter.
This shit is perfect. Embarrassing as fuck memory aside, our time with them has been pretty amazing. I love the way she easily fits in.
The way we easily fit together.
The way we’re effortlessly building our future.
Part of me is screaming to be cautious…
That something horrific is brewing because shit is going this smooth.
That the good times rarely last for too long.
For once in my life I’m hoping I’m wrong.
That the good times are here to last.
That Ryann will be with me forever.
That Hattie continues to call me Dad.
That this is the foundation for my life that can’t be cracked.
I want that to be undeniable truth.
I need it to be.
I’m not sure I can survive having the people I love ripped from me again.
Chapter 13
“You’re joking.”
Dan nervously fidgets with his pen.
“You have to be joking.”
He bites the side of his lip as he slowly shakes his head.
Panic starts to spread through my chest. “You…aren’t…joking…?”
Dan calmly folds his hands. “Unfortunately, not.”
This can’t be happening.
There’s no way in hell this is happening to me.
Not now.
Not when everything is so…perfect.
“He really wants more custody?!”
My outburst blasts him backwards.
“How does he even think that’s possible given how shitty he treats our daughter with the little custody he has?!”
Dan fumbles over his words not speaking a single one coherently.
He’s a sweet guy. Extremely sweet. It’s why practicing Family Law almost makes sense to me. However, sometimes I feel he lacks a certain amount of aggression to do what’s best for me and Hattie. But…this is what I can afford, so I have to make due.
Finally, he finds his verbal footing. “Mr. Davidson is making claims that he fears for his daughter’s safety.”
“What?!”
“He’s also claiming neglect.”
“Did he just…pick random accusations out of a hat?!”
“According to Mr. Davidson’s attorney, he has documented the marks he has seen on your body since you began seeing Mr. Rossi and while he has yet to find any on his daughter, he fears it is just a matter of time.”
I can’t stop my jaw from dropping. “He’s the one leaving marks on her body!”
“He also claims that you are leaving your daughter more and more frequently in the care of others, including Mr. Rossi, which he has photographic evidence of, without consulting him. His attorney is claiming that not consulting or informing him each time Mr. Rossi attends Hattie’s school events such as her speaking presentation or is left to care for Hattie without you violates the custody communication agreement.”
“It does not,” my voice becomes venomous. “She’s in my care. I have full custody! He has bullshit visitation! Whoever I leave my daughter with while I’m working is my business! I keep up my end of the deal! He is informed of where she is. Not mentioning who she is with or who cares enough to actually show the fuck up to shit that matters to her is not a violation!”
Dan starts to shrivel down. “According to the paperwork his attorney sent over, it’s not just for work but for personal reasons as well. Mr. Davidson is worried you are neglecting your motherly duties to resume your reckless party girl ways and does not want his daughter to become hurt because of it.”
Disbelief stuns me silent.
“He has documented accounts of you making trips to the liquor store.”
“Wine for dinner and occasionally for Pax to cook with!”
“The cigar shop.”
“Occasionally, I step in to buy one for my step father, Hattie’s grandfather, or Pax.”
“Lingerie store.”
“Now, I’m not allowed to purchase underwear?!”
Dan slumps further into his seat. “I’m not accusing you of anything. These were just the examples I recall from my initial reading of the paperwork. I will need a little more time to review it all and have one of my paralegals give it an additional read, but I suggest we sit down and mediate this with Mr. Davidson rather than going directly to court. Perhaps
if you simply listen to his concerns firsthand and show you’re willing to…do what’s best for Hattie, he might consider changing his mind completely or at the very least reducing the increased amount of time he asked for.”
He’s not getting her two days a week for five hours and full time every weekend.
There’s no way in hell.
Literally, over my dead body.
Dan continues to drone on, but I mentally shut down.
This is ridiculous…
Can he really do this?
Is this actually possible?
Have I really put Hattie’s best interest in jeopardy because I just had to enjoy a little rough sex? Because I just had to mess up and actually fall for someone? Is providing Hattie with someone else who wants to love and protect her about to cost me my ability to care for her?
After Dan goes over the provided proof I have for the state of her pick ups and drop offs of Jesse’s previous visits since our last check in and the communications I did deliver regarding school functions and doctor’s requests, I make my way home, head swimming with doubts and dread while playing every terrible scenario I can imagine.
By the time I’m walking in through the front door of my house, there’s a panic attack just one poke away from appearing.
“Jenga!” Pax and Hattie shout in unison as the blocks tumble to the floor.
Ugh.
Talk about a fucked metaphor for my life.
Our lives.
Their lives, and they don’t even know it…yet.
“Mom!” Hattie exclaims rushing to me. “I beat Dad at Jenga!”
Bile boils in the pit of my stomach from the term of endearment. “Congrats.”
“She cheated,” Pax teases.
“No-huh,” she argues at the same time she gives me a brief hug. “I just made sure each side stayed balanced when I picked my pieces.”
He smiles proudly. “Smart.”
Hattie’s light complexion colors and vomit reaches the back of my throat.
“Aiutami clean up, please?”
“Sì!” She giggles on her way back over to the situation.
I silently watch the two collect the objects and work together to put them back in the box. Knowing this is one of the last moments they’ll ever share together has tears threatening to choke me.
It has to be the end.
I can’t let Jesse win.
I can’t let him have more time with her.
Put her life in more risk.
Her health and safety has always come first.
It always will.
Once they’re finished, I try to steady my voice, “Hattie, go play on your tablet for a little bit, please.”
She frowns. “But Dad said we were going to dinner.”
“We will soon. Go play.”
The sternness in my tone receives no argument. Hattie grabs her device from where it’s charging and relocates herself to her room.
As soon as we hear the sound of her door close, Pax’s eyes land on me, expression overwhelmed with concern. “Something’s wrong.”
I don’t deny it. “We need to talk.”
He scoots over on the couch to give me space to sit. “This probably isn’t about where we’re spending Thanksgiving, is it?”
My head slowly moves back and forth.
Pax braces his back against the couch and crosses his leg. “I’m all ears, Buttercup.”
Despite the turmoil tearing through me, I manage to push out the words. “We need to end this.”
His entire body stiffens.
“At least for now.”
The addition eases a slight amount of tension.
“I had a meeting with Dan today-”
“I recall.”
“And Jesse wants to mediate for more custody.”
“Tell him, he can go fuck himself.”
“He might have a chance at getting it, Pax.”
“What?!”
“He-”
“There’s no fucking way that’s possible!”
His outrage matches mine. “I didn’t think it was, either!”
“Because it’s not.”
“Dan believes it is!”
“Dan’s a fucking idiot!” Pax’s voice booms. “I told you to get a new attorney!”
“You are not the boss of me!”
He shoots to his feet. “Maybe I should be if you’re gonna let a hundred and fifteen pound coward bully you into giving your fucking rapist more custody of our daughter!”
“My daughter!” I scream at the same time I stand back up. “She’s my daughter, Paxton! It is my job to do what’s best for her! I make those decisions. Me. I am the judge and jury when it comes to deciding the best way to take care of her! No one else!”
Heartache and hatred swirl around his brown stare.
“Jesse says he fears for her life because of you. Jesse is accusing me of neglect because of you. So, I am doing what’s best for her by eliminating the only ammo he has!”
“Me.”
“Yes,” my voice drops in volume. “I love you, but I’m not willing to give her up for you.”
Pax’s chance for a rebuttal is cut off by Hattie, “You’re fighting…”
Our eyes dart over to where she’s lingering at the edge of the hallway.
“This is fighting,” she repeats. “This isn’t a disagreement.”
My mouth moves, yet he beats me to the punch. “You’re right. We were fighting.”
“I don’t like it,” Hattie huffs, squeezing her tablet to her chest.
“Me either, Hattie Pattie,” Pax sighs. “Me either.”
“But we’re done now,” I speak up through my sniffles.
His head snaps my direction. “We are not finished.”
“We are.”
He closes the space between us and presses his lips close to my ear. “This conversation may be over, but we aren’t.”
My jaw begins to tremble, and I have to push myself to say, “Paxton was just leaving.”
He leans back to search my eyes for another option.
For hope.
“Why?!”
“Because he can’t stay.”
“Why?!”
Because the man who impregnated me is determined to cause me more pain and grief…
Because keeping you from him is more important than letting you be with the man who wishes you were his own.
“Say goodbye, Hattie,” I softly command, a sob clogging my throat once more.
The very edge of his eyes begins to swell up with the same sadness as my own. He reluctantly turns, lowers himself to a squatting position, and calls out, “Come hug me, Hattie Pattie.”
She runs over and buries herself in his arms. They squeeze each other so tightly it knocks the air out of my lungs.
Her tiny voice questions, “You’ll be back for breakfast?”
“I’ll try,” he sniffles.
When they pull apart, he plants a kiss on her forehead and rises back to his feet. Our eyes momentarily meet, yet he doesn’t plead a second time. He simply nods his understanding, walks to the kitchen to retrieve his keys, and exits.
The sound of the front door shutting sends tears down my cheeks.
“Mom,” Hattie calls to me, her own sadness radiating off of her. “I want Dad to come back and make me breakfast.”
“Hattie…”
“And pasta,” she begins to pout. “And play Jenga. And do math homework. And play baseball. And…and…and…” Her small chest heaves before she breaks down into a ball of tears. “And I want my Dad to come back home.”
I swiftly swoop her into my arms and cradle her to my chest, not so secretly wanting the exact same things.
This entire time I was worried that he was going to be the one to break her little heart, yet it’s me. I’m the one responsible for letting her get this attached. Letting our relationship move this far this fast. It’s my fault she has to lose the man she considers her father and my fault the man who coul
d never be her father has the leverage he needs to continue to control my actions.