The Brightest Sunset (The Darkest Sunrise Duet Book 2)

by Aly Martinez

  Her arms tightened around my shoulders. “Then that’s all that matters. Give it some time, Char. It’s been one day. Stop looking at the big picture and look at the now.

  So what… Brady is being a dick. Tom is being overprotective. Your mom is trying to take care of the world. Really, it’s just another day for you.” She patted my chest over my heart. “Focus on what matters in here. Right now, Lucas is inside, and Tanner I’m sure is going home to let Porter know that he’s okay. So stop stressing yourself out with the rest of it. It’s all going to fall into place.”

  I wasn’t sure I agreed with her.

  But she definitely wasn’t wrong.

  I flashed her a tight smile. “He wants us to call him Travis.”

  She smiled back and patted my heart again. “Yeah, but he’s always going to be Lucas in here.”

  * * *

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Brady’s wife, Stephanie, asked as she opened the front door for me. Her long, curly, blond hair hung over her shoulders, and their son, William, was clawing at the ringlets like they were his favorite toy.

  “I’m good. Thanks,” I replied, walking toward Brady, who was peering into the backyard from his recliner.

  It had almost killed me, but I’d dropped Lucas off at Brady’s long enough for me to go to my office and pass off all of my patient files to Laughlin. It was official. For the first time in ten years, I was taking some time off. Six weeks to be exact. Greg had teased me that it was like I was going on maternity leave, and in a lot of ways, he had been right. I needed time to build a relationship and a bond with my son, and nothing—not even my job—was going to prevent me from making up for lost time.

  Well, that’s not totally true. The surprise party of sorts in the conference room definitely took a few minutes of my time. They had cake and sparkling grape juice. Everyone was smiling and congratulating me on not only getting my son back, but taking time off to spend with him. Meanwhile, I stared at the minute hand on the clock, wondering how many gift cards I would have to purchase in order not to feel bad about making an early exit.

  “Have you seen this?” Brady asked, passing me a newspaper.

  I glanced outside at Lucas and breathed a sigh of relief that he was still there. I was convinced that he was going to disappear again. Every morning, my heart raced as I climbed off my makeshift bed on the couch and hurried down the hall to the bedroom he’d taken over as his own.

  Every morning, he’d been there.

  Every morning, I expected that to change.

  “Seen what?” I asked.

  “Your boyfriend has apparently decided to petition the courts for full custody.”

  My body grew tight. “Full custody?”

  “That’s what it says,” Brady replied, tipping his chin toward the paper. “I left a message on Paul’s voicemail to see if he’s formally heard anything from Porter’s attorney. But, according to The Post, that’s his goal.”

  “No fucking way,” I breathed, picking the newspaper up and scanning the article, unsuccessfully avoiding the picture of Porter, Tanner, and Lucas huddled together at a Braves game.

  Much like they had the day he had been kidnapped, the media had caught wind of Lucas’s return.

  Magically over the last six days, a barrage of pictures of the Reese family had surfaced and started circulating around social media. And, considering that Tanner Reese was a household name, people didn’t take kindly to the idea of his nephew being kept from him.

  Judgmental Judys from all over the world started taking sides with people they had never met, all of them gearing up for a down-and-dirty custody battle over an innocent child. I’d never been more ashamed of the human race as I was while reading the hateful and disgusting comments on the one and only article I’d read online about our situation.

  Half of them blasting me.

  Half of them blasting Porter.

  All of them uninformed.

  I kept my eyes aimed at Brady and asked, “He can’t do this, right?”

  He rested his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers under his chin, and stated smugly, “You finally ready to listen to me now?”

  I pinned him with a glower. “You can stop being an ass. He hasn’t had any contact with Porter.”

  And he hadn’t. Lucas asked for Porter more often than not. It had killed, but I’d made up excuses. I’d promised Brady I’d toe the line about contact with Porter, and until the investigation was concluded, I had every intention of keeping my end of the bargain.

  “What about Tanner?” Brady shot back. “Any more contact there?”

  “It was only that once, and that wasn’t my choice. Lucas had already seen him. I wasn’t going to drag him kicking and screaming away.”

  “You’re his parent, Charlotte. Until he’s eighteen, everything he does is our choice.”

  I looked back to Lucas, playing with a remote-control helicopter my mom had bought him. His eyes were aimed toward the sky, a huge smile covering his face.

  In the six days since we’d gotten him back, I’d seen him smile numerous times, but never like that. His eyes were always cautious, and he wore a permanent mask of unease. But, right then, he had not a care in the world except for getting that brown-and-tan-camo helicopter to stay in the air.

  The minute his gaze would find mine or Brady’s, his smile would disappear. Most of the time, he covered it quickly, plastering a new grin on before we had the chance to question it. But, each and every time, for those three seconds, his mask faltered and revealed his true emotions—and they were heartbreaking.

  “Tanner’s harmless,” I said to Brady.

  “Oh, really?” He scoffed. “You think it’s Porter paying for three new big-wig attorneys and a publicist to spin this whole bullshit social media campaign their way?”

  I threw my arms out to my sides. “I don’t fucking know. Okay? I’ve never done this before.”

  “None of us have! But a little common sense would go a long fucking way.”

  I glared at him. “I’ve kept my word. He hasn’t talked to Porter or anyone else in the Reese family since that first day. You can lay off, okay? He’s not getting full custody.”

  He barked a humorless laugh. “No. Charlotte, he’s not. Because there isn’t a chance in hell that he’s getting any custody of my son. If that asshole and his stupid fucking brother think they can march into that courtroom and try to take what’s mine, they’re in for the surprise of their lives. I did not spend ten years searching to turn my son over to the man who kidnapped him.”

  “He didn’t kidnap him!” I snapped. “Christ, Brady. Even Tom has admitted Porter had nothing to do with that woman taking him.”

  The aura around him suddenly became dense. He had been pissed before, but with those four words, he’d become damn near livid. He took only two steps, but there was no mistaking his movements as anything other than a malicious prowl.

  Keeping his voice low, he seethed, “Just because he didn’t physically take him doesn’t mean he didn’t spend years keeping our son from us. I don’t know what the fuck that sick piece of shit did to brainwash you, but for over a month, our son stood right in front of you while you chose not to see him. You want to act like you still don’t see him. Fine. But I do. And I won’t stop until that man is out of Lucas’s life forever.”

  My mouth gaped open, his words slashing through me with a vicious velocity. Brady had said a lot of nasty things to me over the years. Most of which were true, so I couldn’t even argue with him.

  But this? This was by far his lowest blow.

  “You think I should have recognized Lucas the first time I saw him?” I asked, awestruck.

  His jaw ticked as he held my gaze, screaming his confirmation when he hadn’t uttered a single word.

  “Holy shit. You do,” I whispered, anger and shock swirling inside me. My body hummed as I sneered, “There’s no pleasing you, is there? He’s finally home. I’m working with you, against my better judgment, to
keep him away from the only man he’s ever trusted. And that still isn’t good enough for you.”

  “See, that’s the problem, Charlotte. As we’ve found out over the last ten years, your judgment is shit. Porter Reese will never be a part of my son’s life.” He pointed a single finger in my face. “Do not cross me on this. That is your only warning.”

  Like hackles, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “My warning?”

  “Don’t push—”

  Suddenly, the door slid open and Lucas appeared, preventing me from a lifetime in prison for having killed his father.

  “Hey, Charlotte,” he called cheerfully.

  Keeping my death glare on Brady, I replied, “Hey, Travis. You ready to go?”

  “Sure,” he chirped. “Hey, guess what? Brady gave me a twenty-dollar iTunes card so I can buy some new skins for my character in Minecraft.”

  “Wow. That was really nice of him,” I said in a sugary-sweet tone that would have made Rita proud, all the while continuing my stare down with the devil.

  “I’ll go grab my stuff,” he said, taking off down the hall.

  When I was sure he was out of earshot, I snarled, “Don’t you dare threaten me. I’ve spent a lot of years being your doormat, but I’m done, Brady. You want to make idle threats? You better be prepared to back them up. And that is your only warning.”

  His lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Right.” Though the way he said it sounded a whole lot more like, Fuck you.

  He casually walked away, seemingly unfazed. Meanwhile, my pulse was thundering in my ears.

  I was so fucking done with Brady’s bullshit.

  Though, after that little showdown, I had a feeling it was just getting started.

  It was eleven that same night and I was finally going through the bag of clothes my mom had bought for me to wear to the custody hearing the following day. None of them were anything I ever would have picked out for myself. They were all too pink. Too lacy. Too floral. But, then again, I could hardly wear a scrub top to court. After tossing them aside, I took a sip of my glass of wine. I’d poured it under the pretense of celebrating my first night of vacation from work, but I was truly drinking it to calm my nerves.

  Between Porter’s new attempt to get full custody and Brady’s being even more of a dick than usual, I’d been a mess all afternoon.

  On one hand, I shouldn’t have been surprised by Brady. A few kind moments since we’d gotten Lucas back did not equal a changed man. I should have expected he’d slide back down the asshole ladder. Though, if I really thought about it, he’d never truly climbed off.

  Porter though? He’d shocked me. And more than that? He’d hurt me.

  It was stupid. We were fighting over the most prized possession a person could ever have. All bets were off. But maybe that was exactly the problem. Lucas/Travis wasn’t a possession at all.

  He was a confused little boy who, as much as it pained me, should have a say over his life. And he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted Porter.

  Only hours earlier, I’d sat outside of his door, listening to him cry tears he would never show me, after I’d told him that he couldn’t call his dad until the courts said it was okay.

  His face had crumbled, in turn crumbling my soul.

  I hated it for him.

  I hated it for me.

  And, secretly, I hated it for Porter as well.

  After picking my phone up, I brought up the thread of messages I shared with Porter. That picture of us laughing in bed was still front and center. My pulse spiked at the sight.

  I traced my fingers over the strong curve of his jaw, wishing I could feel the scruff that had once sent chills down my spine.

  My eyes drifted to Travis’s message to his dad.

  Hey dad I’m with Charlotte she said she will take care of me until you can come get me. I love you. See you soon.

  It wasn’t quite what I had told him when I’d let him send that text, but I assumed it was what his eager mind had heard.

  Porter hadn’t responded, which honestly had surprised the hell out of me. There was an order of protection in place, but he wasn’t the type of guy who would just walk away and hope for the best. By now, I figured he’d be beating down my door.

  Closing my eyes, I clutched my phone tight.

  That afternoon, when we’d gotten home from Brady’s, Lucas and I had watched a movie on my laptop.

  Well, more accurately, he’d watched a movie on my laptop.

  I’d watched him.

  He was so much like Porter it was insane. Honest to God, he even looked like him in a lot of ways. In the great debate of nature versus nurture, Lucas was proof that nurture always won out.

  I had to stop obsessing about Porter. It wasn’t doing any of us any good. It was crushing me more with every passing minute. And, honestly, it was distracting me from what truly mattered: having my son back.

  Clicking on Porter’s name in my contacts, I had every intention of deleting him from my phone. Only my fingers froze, hovering in midair over the screen.

  Unblock this number stared up at me like a neon sign.

  Unblock.

  Unblock.

  Un-fucking-block.

  My mouth dried, and anger lit my veins.

  I’d never blocked Porter’s number.

  But I could guess who had. The same man who had gone through my phone and read my text messages. The same man who, only hours earlier, had warned me not to cross him.

  “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” I breathed, pressing the magical unblock button.

  And then my heart stopped as a voicemail notification popped up on my screen, Porter’s name in the bubble.

  I immediately hit play, chills pebbling my skin as his deep, desperate voice filled my ear, “Hey, sweetheart. I just got Travis’s text.”

  “Porter. Stop,” Tanner said in the background.

  “Please don’t stop,” I whispered, gnawing on my bottom lip.

  “God, baby. What a fucking day,” Porter said before releasing a hard exhale into the phone. “I’m on my way now. Tell Travis I love him. Actually…Christ, I love both of you.”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth.

  But Porter from days ago continued in my ear, his voice taking on a low, familiar rumble, “Stay out of the darkness until I get there, Charlotte. I swear on my life I had no idea he was your son. I promise we’ll figure this out.”

  The message ended, but with burning lungs, I pressed play again.

  “Hey, sweetheart. I just got Travis’s message…”

  I stood up and began to pace, my chest constricting as he said, “Actually…Christ, I love both of you.”

  When the message ended, I pressed play again. This time focusing on a different sentence.

  “I swear on my life I had no idea he was your son.”

  Thirteen words.

  And call me naïve, stupid, or whatever, but I believed every single one of them.

  I pressed play again.

  And then again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Over and over until I couldn’t breathe around the lump in my throat.

  I wasn’t sure what had changed and why he hadn’t shown up that night. Probably the protection order Brady had so adamantly sworn we needed.

  Brady.

  Brady.

  Fucking Brady.

  * * *

  “What do you think Travis’s friend’s house looks like?” Hannah asked as I unbuckled her from her car seat.

  “I don’t know, baby.”

  “How many sleeps until he comes home?”

  Sighing, I put her on my hip and headed up the sidewalk to my parents’ front door. “I don’t know.”

  It made me a coward, but I’d chickened out on telling her the truth about Travis. She wouldn’t have understood. Instead, I told her that he was staying with a friend for a little bit. She’d asked approximately seven million questions in the week since he’d been gone, each
one slicing me to the quick. Eventually, I’d have to tell her the truth. But, hopefully, not today.

  “Does his friend have a TV in his room?” she chirped.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can I have a TV in my room?”

  I grinned down at her. “No.”

  My stomach was in knots, and my nerves had left me with jitters all morning, but she always managed to make me smile. She was the only thing that had kept me going over the last week.

  My mom swung the front door open before I had the chance to knock. Clapping her hands together, she reached for Hannah. “There’s my girl.”

  “Nana!” Hannah squealed, diving from my arms. “Guess what? Travis’s friend has a TV in his bedroom.”

  Mom arched an eyebrow at me. “Oh, he does?”

  I shrugged and stepped forward to kiss my mom’s temple. “I have no idea. Where’s Tanner?”

  “Right here,” he said, rounding the corner, wearing a tailor-made navy-blue suit.

  “Hey, Uncle Tan.”

  He winked and moved closer to tickle her. “Hey, beautiful.”

  She giggled wildly.

  Catching his bicep, I dragged him into the dining room.

  “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t wrinkle the suit,” he complained.

  I flashed my gaze back to Hannah, who was prattling on about God only knew what, but my mom’s nervous, blue eyes were leveled on me. I shot her a placating smile and then gave her my back.

  “Full custody?” I seethed at my brother. “Have you fucking lost your mind?”

  “Relax. Kurt knows what he’s doing.”

  Tanner had brought in three of the best attorneys in the country to work with Mark. Seriously, when my brother set his mind on something, he went from zero to a million in one point five seconds. As far as he was concerned, what was supposed to be a preliminary custody hearing quickly became the likes of the OJ Simpson trial.

  I’d begged him to keep it all on the down low, but where Tanner went, so did the media.

  But, even though I appreciated his support, I was done with the fanfare. I wanted my son back and not to have our laundry aired out for the entire world.