by Aly Martinez
I took the papers from her hand. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
She gave my arm a squeeze and then clipped her way around to Tanner, muttering, “Okay. Okay. Hold your horses. I’m coming. Jeesh, you Reese men sure are needy.”
Tanner wrapped her into a bear hug, and she started giggling as he murmured something in her ear.
I smiled on the inside, enjoying the idea that people we loved were finally happy too.
“What’s that?” Porter asked, tilting his head to the papers in my hand.
“You’ll see in a little while.”
He smirked. “Naked pictures?”
I purposefully kept my face blank as I replied, “Yeah. Of Tanner.”
He narrowed his eyes. “For the record, I find you negative amounts of funny right now.”
“For the record, I find you negative amounts of funny most of the time. But I love you anyway.”
He chuckled and opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t get the words out.
“Incoming,” Tanner whispered.
We all turned and saw Brady and his wife striding toward us, his angry, green gaze leveled on me.
Porter rolled his shoulders back and straightened so he stood a little taller, his muscles flexing under the confines of his suit.
“Ignore him,” I said, leaning into my man’s side.
Porter grunted in acknowledgment, but he tracked Brady all the way until he disappeared into the courtroom.
“You two ready?” Mark asked, Victoria smoothing her skirt out beside him.
I looked up at Porter. “Are we ready?”
His eyes blazed with determination as he stared down at me. “Let’s do this.”
Together, we walked into the courtroom, our attorneys leading the way. The last time we’d been in that room, Porter and I had been on opposite sides. Now, it was Brady who sat across the aisle.
Tension was thick in the air, but Porter kept his hand firmly in mine as we were seated. After a few moments of waiting, Judge Gratham came in, his scrutinizing gaze sweeping through the room.
“Please be seated,” he said, sinking into his chair. “Well, this is a different seating arrangement since the last time. Mr. Boyd, it seems you are at the wrong table.”
Brady’s attorney pushed to his feet. “No, your honor. My client has—”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Full custody. I read all the paperwork. I’m interested in hearing from Mr. Boyd about this sudden change though.”
Brady whispered something to his attorney and then rose to his feet. “I no longer feel that it is in Lucas’s best interest to remain in Charlotte’s care. She has continuously proven that she is unable to put her personal life aside and make objective decisions for his well-being. She knowingly put him in danger only a few days ago, which resulted in him collapsing into a pond, where he had to be resuscitated.”
I blinked. There was no fucking way I’d heard him correctly.
Shooting to my feet, I asked, “Are you blaming me for him having a heart attack?”
The judge motioned for me to sit with two fingers, and Mark and Victoria both tried to pull me down. Porter didn’t move. Not even an inch. His jaw was ticking and his eyes were aimed forward at the judge, an inferno brewing within.
“As I was saying,” Brady continued. “Her continuous involvement with Mr. Reese has not only gone against the order of protection issued by this court, but it has also impaired my ability to develop a relationship with my son.”
“And there it is.” I laughed sardonically. “The real reason why we’re here.”
“Ms. Mills,” the judge said, turning his icy glare on me. “Do not make me have you removed from this courtroom. You’ll have a chance to speak in a minute.”
I grumbled and lowered myself back into my chair.
Porter still hadn’t moved.
Brady grinned victoriously. “Furthermore, Charlotte has yet to secure any kind of housing for our son. She is currently living in a one-bedroom apartment that is not suitable for a young boy. I have a home where he could have his own bedroom and plenty of space to move around. It just makes sense that he be placed with me. And, honestly, the only reason I didn’t press this issue sooner is that Charlotte seemed unstable when we first got Lucas back and I feared for our son’s safety if I pushed her over the edge.”
My mouth fell open as I stared at him. Shock and surprise mingled in a heady combination with betrayal and anger. Brady and I weren’t close by any stretch of the imagination, but this was a new all-time low for him.
“How do you sleep at night?” I whispered, the hurt thick in my tone.
Porter’s hand dropped to my lap, but I was too wound up to play the hand holding game.
Brady’s gaze flicked to mine and bounced away just as quickly.
Lifting my hand in the air like a grade school student, I asked, “May I please speak now, your honor?”
He motioned for Brady to sit. Then he leaned back in his chair, intertwined his fingers, and rested them on his round stomach. “By all means, Ms. Mills.”
“My son, Travis”—I aimed a pointed scowl at Brady—“was born with a heart condition called dilated cardiomyopathy. In short, his heart is enlarged and cannot efficiently pump blood. Due to decreased heart function, this condition can affect other organs in the body. And, for our son, his lungs have struggled the most. Now, with that said, nothing I did or didn’t do caused my son to collapse the other day. However, as a medical professional, I’m willing to wager that the stress of the last few weeks has taken its toll on his already frail body. So, if anyone wants to point the finger at why he is laid up in a hospital bed right now, slowly fading away while waiting for a new heart to become available, it would be aimed at every single person in this room in one way or another.
“And as far as Brady calling me unstable? I honestly don’t know how to respond to that. It’s not only insulting and untrue, but it’s disgusting to me that he would even go there after the hell we’ve been through. The last few weeks have been an emotional hurricane for all of us, but Travis has always been my number-one priority. I’ve taken a leave of absence from work, and finding a new house is at the top of my list. Between these court dates, ensuring Travis is able to spend ample time with Brady, and my son’s numerous doctors’ appointments and, now, hospital visits, there hasn’t been a lot of time left in the day. We are all still adjusting. I am no exception.”
I swallowed hard and then sucked in a deep breath that did nothing to soothe the nerves tap-dancing in my stomach. “Now, I’m not here to discuss or defend my private relationship with Porter Reese. However, it is impossible to discuss my son without talking about him.”
I lifted the stack of papers Rita had delivered. “This is over one hundred signed statements from people who have interacted with Travis and Porter over the years. You will find letters from doctors, nurses, teachers, babysitters, employees, former employees, therapists, neighbors.” I paused to smile. “I think there might even be a grocery store clerk or two. But, regardless of who they are, they all say the exact same thing. Porter loves his children.” My voice cracked under the heavy weight of that truth.
“Jesus,” he breathed beside me, taking the papers from my hand and starting to flip through them.
“It took me less than two days to get all of those statements,” I told the judge. “I think I only made maybe five calls, and then those five people made five more calls, and so on and so forth. It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. People came out of the woodwork wanting to support Porter.”
“Jesus,” he repeated.
I cleared my throat. “So, back to why I’m telling you this. My son is amazing. He’s happy. He’s received top-notch medical treatment. Private tutors. And he even went to Disney World with his family a few years back.” My chin quivered and I forced a grin to cover it. “I know this because he’s told me about it no less than twelve dozen times.” My nose stung as I admitted, “I wasn’t
there for any of those things. But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful they happened. It’s hard not to be jealous that someone else was there for your child when he grew up.” I turned to look at Brady, tears falling from my eyes. “I swear I get it. You want to be his dad. His only dad. But the reason you can’t build a relationship with your son has nothing to do with Porter and everything to do with the fact that you’re building it on a foundation of jealousy. Porter shouldn’t even be in your equation.”
Brady sheepishly looked away, so I turned my attention back to the judge.
“I guess what I’m saying is, of all the ways this horrible ordeal could have turned out, I’m just happy this is how it ended. Porter took exceptional care of our child when we were not there to do it. So, yeah, my relationship with him aside, he deserves to be in Travis’s life.” I sniffled and barely managed to choke out, “A child can never be loved by too many good people.”
Porter suddenly rose to his feet, curled his hand around the back of my neck, and dragged me into his chest. “Jesus Christ. Stop talking.”
The courtroom was silent as Porter held me tighter than ever before. His deep and raspy I-love-yous echoed in my ear. My body sagged in his arms, the comfort and warmth only he possessed quelling the storm inside me.
“Well, okay, then. Anything else from you, Mr. Boyd?” Judge Gratham asked at the same time my phone started vibrating in my pocket.
“Charlotte,” Brady called with urgency.
I didn’t have much else to say to the man. If he was ready for round two, I was going to have to sit it out.
Turning in Porter’s arm, I groaned, “Please, just stop. I can’t—”
“We got a heart,” he whispered, lifting his phone in the air as if I could read the message on the screen.
Chills exploded over my skin. “What?”
Porter echoed me. “What?”
Brady’s eyes bulged wide at the same time a giant smile split his face. “We got a heart!”
Time stopped.
I understood what he was saying, but it felt too incredible to be real. So I asked again, “What?”
Porter patted my pockets down before fishing my phone out. He let out a loud laugh that broke at the end as he announced, “They found him a heart.”
“We gotta go!” Brady exclaimed, rushing toward the door, only slowing long enough to take his wife’s hand and drag her after him.
But I didn’t move.
“Porter?” I whispered and tilted my head back to see him.
His pleading, blue gaze was locked at the judge. “Please, your honor. Let me see him before he goes into surgery. It could be the last time—”
“It’s not going to be the last time,” the judge said matter-of-factly. “But go ahead, son. Get out of here. All of you. Supervised visitation is granted. Your attorneys and I will work out the visitation details until I can make a final ruling on custody.”
My chest swelled.
Porter’s breath left him on a rush. “Oh God. Thank you so much.”
“I don’t want to hear one word about you and Mr. Boyd getting into any more hospital brawls.”
“No, sir. Of course not.”
He smiled and made a shooing motion with his hands. “Good luck today. I’ll be praying for your boy.”
“Thank you,” Porter and I called in unison as we raced from the room.
Hand in hand.
Together.
* * *
“I love you,” I whispered to my son as we surrounded him in the pre-op room.
“I love you too,” he slurred, a goofy smile on his face.
The nurse had just slipped a little something into his IV to relax him while we waited for an anesthesiologist to show up.
Charlotte was standing beside me, looking over his chart for what had to be the tenth time, and Brady was glaring at me from the corner.
I hated that man something fierce. I could have overlooked it if he had been an ass just to me. But he’d been giving Charlotte hell for over a decade, blaming her for what Catherine had done. It took every good and decent fiber of my being not to go ballistic each time I saw him.
But, today, as Charlotte had been talking about me in the courtroom, I’d watched Brady’s face. And every single positive word she had said about me had slashed through him like a razor blade.
He was a dick. There was no questioning that. But we did have something in common.
He loved my son.
Our son.
His son.
Travis.
Lucas.
Whatever you wanted to call him.
Brady loved him.
And, right then, just like I was, he was scared out of his fucking mind at the very idea of him going into surgery.
I settled on the edge of the bed and lowered my voice so only Travis could hear me.
“Hey, bud. Can you do me a favor?”
He smiled toothy and wide. “Sure, Dad.”
I rested my hand on his forearm and gave him a squeeze. “Do you remember that time that you really wanted to buy some coins on that game on your iPad but you weren’t supposed to get your allowance for another week?”
“But they were on sale.” He laughed.
“Right,” I whispered. “They were on sale, so I gave you an advance on your allowance so you could buy them.”
“Yeah,” he drawled. “That was so awesome.”
I chuckled. “So, here’s the thing, bud. Brady and Charlotte love you a lot. And I know you don’t necessarily love them yet, but I promise you will one day. I was wondering if maybe you could give them an advance on that love before you go in and get that new ticker of yours. You know, just to make them feel better.”
“I like Charlotte.” He shrugged. “I could love her.”
I smiled. “That’s good to hear.”
“Brady’s nice and all, but—”
“It’s just an advance, Trav. It would mean a lot to them.”
He stared at me, unfocused for several seconds, then smiled. “Okay, then.”
God, I loved my son.
My vision began to swim, but I refused the tears their release. This was not a sad day.
It was a day for smiles and laughs.
For hopes and dreams.
For futures and celebration.
But, most of all, it was a day for new beginnings.
“Hey, Brady,” Travis croaked.
Brady became unstuck from the corner. “I’m right here, Travis.”
“I…just wanted to say…” He flicked his gaze to mine and then back to Brady. “That I love you.”
I patted my son’s hand, pride soaring inside me.
Charlotte gasped.
Brady’s whole body locked up tight. His eyes grew wide almost as quickly as they filled with tears. He coughed and then cleared his throat. “I love you too.”
“You got to be nicer to Charlotte,” Travis continued, and I tucked my head low and chuckled.
“Oh…uh…yeah, okay,” Brady breathed.
“She’s pretty awesome when you get to know her. She’d be way cooler if she got a TV for her apartment. But at least she has Wi-Fi.”
Charlotte stepped forward and took his hand. “I promise. As soon as we get a new house, we’ll get a TV.”
Travis shot her a wide smile. “Okay, then I don’t have to give you an advance when I tell you that I love you.”
She nodded at least a dozen times. Her face did that scrunchy trying-not-to-cry-and-failing thing she did so often. It usually made me laugh, and this was no different.
Taking her hand in mine, I guided her to stand between my legs.
“I love you too,” she whispered through tears.
“Don’t cry.” He laughed. “Go ahead. You can call me Lucas if it will make you feel better.”
Her face softened and somehow turned sad even as she smiled. “I don’t want to call you Lucas. If you’re Travis, then I love you, Travis.”
He stared at her, his drunken ga
ze flashing with a moment of clarity. “Really?”
She wrapped her hand over his and lifted her hands to her mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Of course. I don’t want you to be anyone else. I love you.”
There was no mistaking the honesty in her voice.
My throat burned with unshed emotion.
It was amazing the way children could heal you with such simple words.
If only our words could have healed him.
Ten minutes later, anesthesia finally arrived. With kisses, hugs, and whispered good-lucks, we left our son in the hands of the transplant team. Charlotte stayed with Travis, while Brady and I were escorted to a waiting room where most of our family had already congregated.
Tanner and Rita were there. My mom had stayed home to keep Hannah, but she had sent Dad with strict instructions to text her every ten minutes. Charlotte’s mom and Tom were there, along with some faces I didn’t recognize that I assumed were from Brady’s family.
And we were all there for one little boy.
Strapped in and ready to wait out the longest four hours of our lives together.
I’d just finished making my way around the room, receiving hugs and words of encouragement—including a brisk handshake from Tom—when Charlotte finally joined us.
She smiled at her mom and nodded to Tom, but she came straight to me.
“Hi,” she whispered, folding her arms around my waist and burying her face in my chest.
“It’s going to be okay,” I promised, smoothing her long, black hair down.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life,” she confessed.
“I know. Me too.”
She peered up at me with glistening eyes. “Thank you for that in there.”
I played dumb. “For what?”
“I don’t know what kind of advance you had to promise him, but to hear him say, ‘I love you,’ I’d gladly pay it a thousandfold.”
I tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I didn’t pay him anything. That was the truth.”
“Even the part where he chastised Brady for not being nice to me?”
“Actually, yes. I had nothing to do with that.”
She sighed. “God, I love that kid.”
“That makes…” I popped my head up and looked around the room. “A lot of us.”
