The Complete Darkest Sunrise Series

by Aly Martinez

  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.

  “Fuck Kurt. This is ridiculous, and I can’t handle it. Screaming that I’m trying to take him away from Charlotte and Brady isn’t going to win me any sympathy. Full custody is a threat. And, if you or Kurt think otherwise, you’re clearly not a parent.”

  His eyebrows shot up. I hoped it was because he was starting to understand, but more likely, it was because he could tell I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  “Okay, okay. We’ll tell Kurt to back down,” he assured. “Just take a deep breath and try to stay positive.”

  Oh, I was positive.

  Positive I was losing my mind.

  Positive I needed to get my son back.

  Positive Catherine had fucked me from beyond the grave.

  Keeping all of that to myself, I drew in a deep breath and cracked my neck.

  “Better,” he praised. Then he straightened my tie. “I’m impressed. You look almost human.”

  I’d barely been surviving over the last week. I’d spent almost every day at the police station, “cooperating” with the investigation. Which really just meant I was spending my days sitting in a room while they scoured through my past and searched for a reason to arrest me. So far, the truth had successfully kept me out of a pair of cuffs. But I hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours over the last seven days. I was tired, physically and emotionally, and I missed my son something fierce.

  But the days kept going without me.

  Sunrise.

  Sunset.

  Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

  I swatted Tanner’s hand away. “I don’t feel human.”

  He patted my shoulder. “Well, let’s hope today changes that.”

  There wasn’t enough hope in the world for how much I needed today to change it.

  “Dad!” Tanner shouted, strutting to where Mom was still standing at the front door. “Let’s go. We’re pulling out.”

  Dad came barreling down the stairs. “I’m coming. I’m coming. Quit your yelling.”

  He paused for only a second to kiss Mom and tickle Hannah’s neck before we were all out the door and heading to Tanner’s Mercedes.

  “Keep me updated!” Mom called after us. “Love you!”

  “Love you too!” we all yelled back in unison, climbing into the car.

  I rubbed my sweaty palms on my thighs and asked, “Have you heard from Rita?”

  His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. “She’s still not talking to me.”

  “Shit,” I breathed, fighting the urge to rake a hand through my hair. I’d spent thirty minutes styling it, doing my best to look like I had it all together while I was falling apart.

  Dad turned in his seat. “Have you talked to Mark?”

  “At least seven hundred and fifty times,” I answered, shifting in my seat, unable to sit still.

  “And what’s the latest?”

  “There is no latest. The protection order is still in place. And me getting any kind of custody is basically the long shot of the century. And probably smaller than that now that Kurt has announced I’m petitioning for full custody.” I peered out the window, my throat on fire.

  My dad reached back and patted my leg. “It’s gonna work out, Porter. Have a little faith. You’re a good dad. Travis loves you. The judge will see that.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Hey!” Tanner interrupted. “Don’t turn into Pity Porter back there. This is going to happen. End of story. Remember when we first found out about his heart? There was only one option. This is no different.”

  I nodded and went back to staring out the window. Optimism wasn’t exactly my strong suit anymore.

  We rode in silence the rest of the way to the courthouse. It wasn’t the comfortable silence Charlotte and I shared. It was merely the deceptive lull before the hurricane.

  Reaching into my pocket, I felt the crinkled edges of that familiar cocktail napkin I’d tucked in there before we left. The one I’d drawn on what felt like an eternity ago—that silly map that had shown her how to escape the restaurant on our first date. And there I was, weeks later, preparing to go head-to-head with her over the custody of my son.

  Her son.

  But not our son.

  What I wouldn’t have given for someone to
draw me a map so I could escape this hell.

  Twenty minutes later, after we’d parked, passed through the metal detectors, and made it into the courthouse, Mark, Kurt, and two other fancy-ass attorneys I mentally referred to as TweedleDee and TweedleDumb met us outside of a courtroom that wasn’t nearly big enough for the decision being made inside it.

  “How you holding up, Porter?” Mark asked.

  I shook his outstretched hand and answered honestly. “I’m not.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can fix that. You ready?”

  My nerves ignited. “Not at all. But I guess it’s now or never.”

  Dad cupped my shoulder, and Tanner patted my back.

  Shaking my arms out, I prepared for war.

  Mark opened the door to courtroom C, and then, on legs that felt as though they were filled with lead, I made my way inside flanked by my legal team.

  I wasn’t two steps through the door before my desperate gaze found her.

  My body locked up tight, but I somehow managed to keep my legs moving.

  I couldn’t see her face. She was sitting at the table in the front of the room, Brady beside her. Her shoulders were hunched forward, and his fingers—all of which I wanted to break—were splayed across her back.

  As if she could read my mind, she roughly shrugged his hand away.

  It had only been a week since I’d seen her, but she somehow looked different.

  She was wearing a short-sleeve, silk, peach-colored blouse. Peach. Fucking ridiculous. My Charlotte wouldn’t have been caught dead in anything other than black. But I had to remind myself that her dreams had come true. Maybe she was a different woman now.

  Her hair was down, long and straight. At least that was the same. And I almost smiled when she nervously pulled it up into a ponytail only to release it. She did this a lot.

  It was how I knew she was winding herself up.

  And how I had known when to step in and take her hand, giving her something else to focus on.

  My hands twitched to do just that.

  I moved on autopilot as my attorneys guided me to a table at the front of the room, my gaze glued to her back, begging her to give me her eyes.

  My dad and Tanner filed into the row of chairs behind us, but I kept watching her.

  Through it all, the room carried on around us. People rising. A judge entering. People sitting. Our attorneys spoke in jargon I didn’t understand. Her attorney whispered in her ear. Brady wrote something on a notepad and then showed it to her. She shoved it away without even reading it.

  But she never looked in my direction.

  “Mr. Reese,” the judge called, snapping my attention off her.

  “Yes. Right here.” I shot to my feet. Why? I didn’t know. It just seemed like I should be standing when they ripped the rug out from underneath me.

  “Have a seat, son,” he stated, his round belly showing beneath his black robe.

  “Right.” I glanced at Charlotte, but she was staring straight ahead, her profile unreadable.

  “It seems we have a unique situation here,” he stated.

  I gave the judge my sole attention. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then you know this is going to take some time to figure all this out.”

  I nodded. “I do understand that. And I’m okay with that as long as I’m allowed to spend time with my son while we do that.”

  “That’s where we’re going to have trouble. I’m sorry, Mr. Reese—”

  An icy panic crept through my extremities and into my chest. “It’s not his fault,” I interrupted. “Travis. It’s not his fault that Catherine kidnapped him. It’s not his fault that he grew up without his parents.” I swung a hand out, motioning to Charlotte. “But I do believe it should be his choice who he wants to live with.”

  Brady shot to his feet, leaning forward on his knuckles as he exclaimed, “He’s ten! He doesn’t get to decide.”

  “Mr. Boyd,” the judge warned.

  I ignored his outburst. “He would choose me, sir. Every time. I love my son. I’ve done everything in my power to give him a life despite his health issues and the trauma the woman he thought was his mother cowardly inflicted on us all.”

  “Bullshit,” Brady snarled. “You didn’t do shit. Where the hell were you when that whack job was driving my son off a fucking bridge?”

  “Brady!” Charlotte scolded.

  The judge slammed his gavel and called for order.

  But there was none to be found.

  Not in a situation like that.

  Not when three parents were willing to fight to the death over one innocent child.

  I slapped a hard hand on my chest, grinding my teeth together as I seethed, “I was in that fucking water saving him!”

  Mark stepped in front of me. “Shut up. You aren’t helping your case with this.”

  “He could have been killed!” Brady continued.

  “I’m the only reason he’s alive! And I want him back!” I roared.

  “You’ll never see him again!” he swore as one of the uniformed officers tried to force him to sit down, another getting in my face.

  Reluctantly, I quieted, but Tanner took my place.

  “You want to point fingers? Where the hell were you the day he was taken in the first place?”

  “No!” I yelled at Tanner, shooting back to my feet. I swung my gaze to Charlotte. She was still facing forward, but her body was rigid and her mouth had fallen open. “That was no one’s fault. That was all Catherine.”

  “Calm down or you’re all spending the night in a cell!” the judge ordered.

  But I couldn’t calm down. He was going to take Travis away from me for good. I could feel it in my bones. I was losing him. The car was sinking. His heart was failing. And I was once again fighting the impossible.

  I looked at Brady. “Don’t do this. This is a crazy situation that we’ve all been forced into. Emotions are running high. But I swear, if given the chance, I’m confident that the three of us can work out something in the best interest of our son.”

  “My son!” Brady roared. “He is not yours.”

  “Who does he call dad, asshole?” Tanner shouted.

  The judge banged his gavel, the sound echoing in my heart.

  “No. No. No.” I extended my arms out to my sides, my palms up, desperate to stop the chaos before it was too late. “Stop! Please, just…” I closed my eyes, the defeat paralyzing me.

  The gavel kept banging.

  Brady kept yelling.

  Tanner kept replying.

  My heart kept beating.

  And the world just kept spinning.

  Opening my eyes, I found the only person in the room who could possibly understand. Finally, she was staring straight at me, her soft lips parted while guilt and apology lingered in her beautiful features.

  And then I said the familiar words she had once begged of me. “I need it to stop.”

  Her eyes grew wide and her body jerked as though I’d hit her from across the room.

  Mark stepped into my space, frantically trying to silence me, but I leaned around him to keep her in my line of sight and shouted to be sure she heard me over the chaos.

  “Charlotte, please! I need it to stop!”

  She slapped a shaking hand over her mouth, tears sparkling in her eyes.

  “Sit down and shut up,” Mark growled, shoving me into my chair.

  I went down, but I kept my gaze on Charlotte, pleading with her without the use of words.

  Tears rolled off her chin as she started talking to her attorney, her mouth moving a million miles an hour, a pointed finger swinging in my direction.

  Hope swelled in my chest.

  Still arguing, Tanner and Brady were both dragged from the room, their yells turning into murmurs as the doors closed behind them.

  And then everything fell silent. Eerily so.

  The judge swept a pointed scowl through the room. “Anyone want to join them?”

  “No, your honor,” Mark
answered for me.

  Charlotte answered a little differently. “Can I please say something?”

  My heart exploded.

  The judge lifted his hand to silence her. “Thank you, Ms. Mills, but I’ve heard enough.”

  “Wait…please.” Her panicked gaze slipped to mine.

  “Enough,” he shot back, and Charlotte slowly sank into her chair, defeated.

  That same defeat made my gut sour.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  He cleared his throat and then trained his unhappiness on me. “As I was saying, I’m sorry, Mr. Reese, but I can’t make a decision on custody at this time. From what I’ve been told, the police are still in the process of concluding their investigation. Once you have been cleared of all involvement, we can proceed. This is a very rare case unlike any I’ve ever dealt with before. So, before I make any decisions, I’d like to meet with Lucas Boyd personally. I’ll also be assigning a Guardian Ad Litem to the case. He or she will be contacting each of you individually, including Mr. Boyd, to conduct interviews and home visits, collect background information, and so forth. In the meantime, the order of protection will remain in place.”

  My body tensed, and I opened my mouth to object but didn’t get a sound out.

  “Quiet, Mr. Reese. We’ll reconvene in two weeks. And if at that point you’ve been cleared, we can discuss supervised visitation in the short term until I’m able to make a final ruling.”

  My chest collapsed, my shoulders rolling forward to combat the pain. Two weeks felt like an insult. It had already been seven agonizing days. The uncertainty of it all was slowly bleeding me dry.

  The judge continued talking, the attorneys chiming in to ask questions and set up dates, but I zoned out.

  Any hopes I’d had for that day had been crushed.

  Yet, when I lifted my head, my eyes once again found hers.

  Her dark browns, which had once housed our shared darkness, now blazed with light.

  “Two weeks,” she mouthed.

  “I can’t,” I mouthed back.

  “I promise I’ll take care of him.” She smiled, and I swear it hit me like a sledgehammer.

  But it broke me in all the right places.

  Flicking my gaze down, I mouthed, “I hate your shirt.”

  Her smile grew, tears spilling from her eyes. “Me too.”