He shook his head, wiped his face, and managed a shaky exhale. “Maybe later. Can I sit here with you for a while?”
“Always,” I said. I squeezed his hand, feeling the familiar ache of wanting to fix everything and knowing I couldn’t. So I just stayed, letting the silence hang, the sunset darkening the room a little more with every passing second.
My phone buzzed on the side table.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
I finally leaned over to check.
Hunter: Just checking in. You okay?
A small rush of warmth and reassurance washed over me. He always seemed to know when I needed a lifeline. It was as unnerving as it was soothing.
Then it rang.
I was ready to see Hunter’s name—but it wasn’t.
It was Ren calling.
I answered. “Please tell me this is about anything other than Eli.”
“Can’t,” he said, clipped and direct. “His attorney formally requested a meeting to discuss selling the house and reducing child support.”
I closed my eyes. “Of course they did.”
“I already responded,” he said, his tone sharpening. “I have a motion prepared challenging both. They’re going to have to fight for it. And trust me, they will lose.”
I stared at him in surprise. “Wait—you didn’t even call me first?”
“Paige, you hired me to protect you and your kids, not sit around and wait for Eli to do the decent thing. This is me doing that. And like I said before, no charge for family. I’m with Piper now, that makes you family.”
I paused, caught somewhere between startled and grateful.
He continued. “He’s claiming reduced income. I have my doubts about that based on the bank records we pulled during the divorce. I’m digging deeper and will have an answer for you soon. On a more personal note: I’d love to toss that motherfucker through a window.”
“He’s such a—” I glanced over at Noah and stopped myself. “Never mind.”
“You can say it. I called him worse during the divorce, remember?”
“Yeah. I owe you a lot.” I let out a slow breath. “Thanks, Ren.”
“You don’t owe me a thing. You’re doing everything you can to keep things stable. He’s the one trying to knock the whole thing over. We’re not letting him.”
That one hit me square in the chest. “I appreciate you.”
“Seriously,” he added. “Let me be ruthless. It’s my favorite part of the job. I love it.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I’m just tired of feeling like the punching bag.”
“You’re not,” he said firmly. “You’re the one still standing.”
We hung up, and I set the phone back on the table. I leaned back into the couch and let my head fall against the cushion.
Noah was still staring at the ceiling.
“You ever wish you could just hit pause for like, a week?” I asked.
