by Aly Martinez
The bitterness of anger lit my tongue. “You don’t know shit!”
He didn’t raise his voice as he said, “I know that she just found her kid after ten years of him being gone. Rita told me she’s been living in a haze since he went missing. And, now, she finally got that back.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I refuse to believe she’s just going to hand him over to you.”
He was wrong.
So fucking wrong that rage consumed me.
Fisting the front of his shirt, I yanked him toward me. “Yes, she will!”
He caught my wrists and squeezed painfully. “I hate it as much as you do, Porter. And I will fight to the ends of the earth to keep him in our family. But that is what we are going to have to do. Fight. If you go over there now, screw this up, and end up in jail, where does that leave your chances of getting even part-time custody?”
I gave him a hard shake. “I won’t screw this up! She’s giving him back.”
“Why? Think about it, Porter. Why would she give you her son?”
My body coiled tight, twisting the pain and anguish into a violent fury. “Because she has to!” A sob tore from my throat, and I gasped for air. “Because she fucking has to.” My voice broke. “I can’t live like this. What if he needs me in the middle of the night? What if the call comes for a transplant and I’m not there? I swore to him that I’d take care of him after Catherine died.” My shoulders shook uncontrollably. “Tanner, I gave him my word. She has to give him back. There’s no other option.” I shoved off his chest, righting myself in my seat before slamming my fist into the dashboard. “Just fucking take me to her. I can make her understand. I know I can.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “And what if she doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll play it your way and fight it out in the courtroom. But, tonight, I need to see her and get a read on where her head is at. And I need to see him so I can assure him that everything is going to be okay. He’s probably fucking terrified.”
He sighed and dropped his head back against the headrest. “It’s a bad idea, Porter.”
“Maybe. But it’s all I got.”
“But it’s not!” he implored, rolling his head so he was once again facing me. “Mark is the best. If anyone can make a court see why Travis needs you, it’s him. You break this protection order and you can kiss that goodbye. You have a shot to stay a part of his life.”
“I don’t want to be a part of his life. I want to be there every fucking day.”
“You show up to her place tonight, try to force her to hear you out, you’re going to lose him forever. And Christ, Porter? What about Hannah? She needs you at home, not warming a jail cell.”
I cringed, my heart breaking at the idea of telling Hannah. “Fuck,” I groaned, fisting the top of my hair. “I know. But I can’t just go home and wait this out. I have to do something.”
“We are going to do something. We’re going to do so many goddamn somethings these people won’t know what hit them. But not like this. You need to play it safe. No calls. No texts. No visits.”
I groaned. “I can’t.”
“You have to. First thing in the morning, I’ll go on the offense with this and set up a legal team to work on Travis. Meanwhile, you play defense. Keep talking to the police and giving them everything you have on Catherine until we can clear your name.”
I dropped my head back against the headrest and stared at the dark sky. “Do you think I have any chance of getting him back?”
“Yeah. I do. Because we’re not going to stop until that happens. I’ll call Rita, see if she can take me over there to see him. I’ll make sure he knows we love him and put his mind at ease. Okay?”
The knots in my stomach twisted tighter, but I had no choice but to agree. “Yeah. Okay.”
* * *
“You need to try to sleep,” my mom whispered, handing me a mug of coffee.
“I know,” I replied equally as soft.
I hadn’t slept all night. Even with the mental and emotional exhaustion of the day, my body wouldn’t settle. It seemed to be a common problem though. Mom and Tom had gone home around three and returned at seven.
I tipped the drink to my lips, propped my shoulder on the doorjamb, and continued to peer into my bedroom at Lucas’s form tucked securely under the blankets. It was shortly past nine a.m. and he was still sound asleep.
I could never explain how surreal it had felt to walk into my apartment with my son, his small hand wrapped in mine.
That apartment had been my home for over six years, but suddenly, it felt all wrong. It was too small. Too sterile. Too dark. Too empty.
One look around with eyes no longer shrouded by darkness and I almost didn’t want him to be there at all. The other option had been letting him go to Brady’s. And there wasn’t a chance in hell that was going to happen. The one and only time Brady had mentioned it, I’d immediately shut all conversation down.
I was well aware a one-bedroom apartment wasn’t going to cut it. Financially, I had the resources to get a new place. Something nicer. Something bigger. Maybe even a house with a backyard. Though, time was going to be my biggest obstacle.
But no one, not even his father, was going to take my son away from me again.
Thankfully, Brady hadn’t pushed the issue. However, he’d made it clear that he would be spending the night on my sofa. I understood. I couldn’t tear my eyes off our son, either.
Slowly, Lucas had warmed to Brady. The two of them had spent over an hour on a bench at the police station, Lucas teaching his father the fine art of Minecraft after Brady had downloaded the app on his phone.
Brady and I would never be friends, and nothing would erase the vile things he’d said to me over the years, but seeing him smiling and laughing with our son went a long way to start soothing the wounds.
It had been late when we’d finally been able to leave the police station, and we’d gotten home well after one a.m. But, despite the time, the first thing I’d done was unload the bag of his medications and sort them out. It was a task Lucas was all too willing to help with. Given his age, I was surprised by how much he knew. He’d correctly listed off all of his medicines, dosages (one pill or two), and how often he was supposed to take them (morning, noon, or night).
I loved that he was well educated about his condition.
I hated that he had needed that education at all.
And, with over thirty prescription bottles now filling one of my kitchen cabinets, it was a constant reminder that keeping him might be infinitely harder than getting him back had been.
I had made plans to call his numerous specialists first thing in the morning to schedule meetings and request all of his medical records. I’d been a dedicated physician since the day I’d graduated medical school, but Lucas had just become my most important patient of all.
When his medications were organized, Lucas sat on the couch and regaled my mom and Tom with silly stories about video games and pranks he’d pulled on his private tutors (more people I’d be contacting in the morning.)
So I got busy getting my bedroom ready for him.
I stripped the sheets off the bed that, only one night earlier, Porter and I had shared. I cleared the empty beer bottle he’d left on the nightstand after we’d spent the night laughing and talking, naked and alone in the darkness. His overnight bag was still in the corner, and I fought the urge to lift his shirt to my nose and fill my lungs with the comfort I’d only been able to find in his arms. I shoved it in the closet and shut the door. And, as I erased him from my room, I pretended like the thought of him truly being gone wasn’t breaking me.
I still had no clue what his role in all of this mess had been. Brady and Tom wouldn’t let up about the coincidence of it all.
Though, I was more skeptical.
The first thing I’d learned in medical school was that, when you hear hoof beats, don’t automatically assume it’s a zebra. It’s probably a horse. More often than not, the simplest, most log
ical answer was usually correct.
I was a pulmonologist.
And Porter had a child with a pulmonary issue.
But, even knowing that, it didn’t change our unique situation.
I knew Porter, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get his son back.
And he knew me, so he had to be aware that there was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep him.
We were already at a stalemate, and the match was just getting started.
“Hey,” Brady whispered, sidling up behind Mom and me. He rested his palms on our backs and asked, “He still asleep?”
“Yeah,” I replied, curling the mug of coffee into my chest.
“He had to be exhausted,” Mom added.
“Susan, you mind if I have a minute alone with Charlotte?”
Her gaze flicked to mine in question, and I gave her a short nod.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked to Brady and asked, “Are you going to be an asshole?”
Yep. That was my mom.
Brady chuckled. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Then I suppose I can give you two a minute. You want some coffee?”
“I’d love some,” he replied, a small smile playing at his lips.
“Okay, then. Be nice and don’t make me hurt either one of you on such a joyous day.” Pressing up onto her toes, she pecked my cheek and then patted Brady on the chest before strolling away.
Brady moved to fill her empty space in the doorway. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah. Of course,” I answered. “What about you?”
His green eyes warmed. “It’s weird. Ya know? He’s my son, but he’s also this little stranger.”
“I know. I get nervous every time he so much as looks at me,” I confessed and immediately felt awkward about it. “I mean—”
“He looks a lot more like you than I was expecting. In all the age progression photos they made over the years, he always looked like me.”
I smiled and swallowed hard. “He’s got your chin.”
He chuckled and scrubbed his jaw. “Poor guy.”
I took another sip and turned my attention back to Lucas, allowing the silence to linger between us. Though there was nothing comfortable about it.
“Thank you,” Brady rasped.
With wide eyes, I snapped my gaze to his. “For what?”
He cleared his throat. “I felt like I was going to die this morning when you had to give him that breathing treatment thing. I literally couldn’t breathe the whole time.”
I patted his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s fine now.”
“You jumped right in, while I stood there, paralyzed by fear that I’d just gotten him back and I was already going to lose him again.” His voice cracked as he covered his mouth.
“Brady,” I whispered, my chest tightening. “That’s my job. It’s different for me. I’ll teach you. It won’t be so scary next time.”
He nodded. “I don’t want there to be a next time.”
“I don’t either, but unfortunately, there are going to be a lot of next times. He’s sick, Brady. Really sick.”
He hooked his arm around my shoulders and gathered me into his side. My body was stiff, but I allowed him the contact.
But it was all for him.
What I wouldn’t have given for it to be Porter’s strong arm. His reassuring words in my ear. His lips pressing into the top of my hair. His warmth enveloping me.
As though he could read my mind, Brady said, “I know, which is why we need to talk about Porter Reese.”
My heart lurched. Stepping away from his side, I caught the doorknob. Silently pulling the door shut, I left Lucas peacefully sleeping inside.
“What about him?” I asked.
“I don’t want my son having anything to do with that asshole.”
And just like that, our moment was gone.
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “Jesus Christ, how many times are we going to have this conversation? I agreed to the protection order, didn’t I?”
“You did.” He took an ominous step toward me. “But then, an hour later, you let our son text that man.”
My back shot straight. “How do you know that?”
“The same way I know that Porter was blowing your phone up in the middle of the night.”
Now, that was news to me. I had no idea where my phone was. When I’d last seen it, it was on the end table in the living room. But, after Lucas had woken up having difficulty breathing, I’d lost track of basically everything else. Clearly, Brady had not.
“You went through my phone?” I hissed.
He cocked his head to the side and leveled me with a scowl. “Tell me you understand.”
“You went through my fucking phone?” I semi-repeated, stepping forward until we were nose to nose.
My mom suddenly appeared between us. “No way. Break it up, you two. We are not doing this today.” She took my coffee from my hand when I refused to back down.
“Say it, Charlotte,” Brady demanded.
“You had no right!” I snapped.
“And neither did you. He’s our son. Both of ours. You do not get to make decisions by yourself.”
“Hey. Hey. Hey,” Tom said, wading into what was about to escalate into World War III. “Enough.”
Brady and I continued our stare down around them, neither of us willing to concede.
Ultimately, it was a knock at the door that finally broke the tension.
With my teeth clenched, I dragged my gaze away from Brady and marched to the door. My footsteps were almost as heavy as the anger brewing inside me.
I snatched the door open and then froze.
Topaz-blue eyes.
Short, blond hair.
Strong jaw covered in scruff.
Bright, white smile.
“Hi,” he said softly.
My mouth dried and everything slowed, tears I should have long since run out of filling my eyes.
It wasn’t Porter. But he looked close enough to cause my heart to splinter.
“Oh, honey,” Rita said, gliding past Tanner and wrapping me in a hug. “You should have called.”
“I…uh…” I stammered, my eyes still locked on Tanner.
Secretly, I flashed my gaze over his shoulder, searching—and hoping—for any sign of Porter. There was none.
And, when Brady’s presence hit my back, I was suddenly relieved.
“You are not here right now,” he growled at Tanner.
Tanner kept staring at me. His handsome smile, which matched his brother’s, never faltered as he stated, “I brought some of Travis’s things.”
Brady cut around me and snatched the bag from his hands. “Leave.”
“Oh, give it a rest,” Rita snapped at Brady. Then her tone became sweet as she asked me, “How are you doing, honey?”
I kept staring at Tanner as I bit my lip and shook my head.
“You overwhelmed?” she whispered.
I sucked in a sharp breath and nodded.
She palmed either side of my face. “Well, don’t you worry. I’m here now.” Then she was gone.
Or, more accurately, she was now gone from my face and up in Brady’s.
“All right. Listen up. Tanner was just leaving. I, however—”
She didn’t get to finish what was probably going to be an amazing speech because she was interrupted by the sound of a little boy’s glee-filled shriek.
“Uncle Tan!”
“Fuck,” Brady growled and started to turn toward him.
Snaking a hand out, I caught his elbow. “Don’t you dare!”
“Charlotte,” he warned.
“His world has been flipped upside down. Let him have these few minutes of comfort. I’ll toe the line about Porter after this. But he’s already seen Tanner. You are not taking this away from him.”
For several beats, he scowled at me, but he finally tipped his chin and stepped to the side, allowing Lucas room to get to the man he’
d grown up thinking was his uncle.
Our boy didn’t slow until he crashed into Tanner’s front.
I’d only met Tanner Reese once. So I wasn’t exactly an expert on his repertoire of expressions. But there was no mistaking the tangible pain that flickered through his features before he was able to conceal them with a smile.
“Hey, Trav,” he murmured.
God. I was so sick of my heart hurting all the time. But it did. At every turn.
And it seemed I wasn’t the only one. Porter would be destroyed. But his whole family had been affected too.
“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked, craning his head back, his eyes sparkling with tears. “Did Dad come with you?”
Tanner squatted low and wrapped him into a hug. One so deep that even I felt the love packed inside it. “No. I’m sorry.” He lowered his voice. “He told me to tell you that he loves you so much and that he’ll see you as soon as he can.”
Brady scoffed beside me, and I swung a scathing glare his way.
He shrugged, completely unfazed.
“Can you stay?” Lucas asked, his excitement palpable.
Tanner’s gaze flicked to mine in question.
Covering my mouth, I shook my head, guilt churning my stomach.
“Sorry, bud. I can’t. I need to get to work,” he lied.
My nose started stinging, and I cut my eyes away so no one would be able to see if any tears actually escaped.
“Okay,” Lucas breathed, his disappointment palpable. “Will you tell Dad I love him? And Hannah. Oh, and make sure she’s not messing with my Legos.”
Tanner’s face once again crumbled, his smile unable to mask it. “Sure thing.”
“Oh! And Nana. Will you tell her that Charlotte’s good at the nebulizer? She’s, like, a doctor and stuff. Oh, and Grandpa. Tell him he’s not allowed to go fishing until I get home. He’ll catch all the good ones without me.”
My lungs burned as the air became toxic.
He truly believed he was going home.
“Yeah!” Tanner exclaimed, rising to his full height at the same time a tear finally made it out of his eye. He wiped it on his shoulder and kept right on smiling. “Dude, I won’t let him anywhere near the pond. I promise.”
“Okay, good,” he whispered.