Page 2 of Holden’s Resurrection

What the hell?

I stepped back into the small entryway and closed the door.

The outside of the manila envelope was blank. I opened the clasp and shook out the documents. My blood iced in my veins.

Son of a bitch.

Son of a stupid, mean, hateful bitch.

NOTICE OF REQUEST FOR VIRGINIA REGISTRATION OF A CHILD CUSTODY AND/OR VISITATION DETERMINATION FROM ANOTHER STATE.

That bitch.

I quickly scanned the first page. Paul’s mother, Beatrice, was named as the requesting party, and Paul’s sister, Patricia, was named as the other interested person. I flipped to the next page and the thick layer of ice that had formed around my heart cracked until more anger than I’d ever known invaded it.

Freaking bitch.

I dashed upstairs, found my phone, and looked at Micky.

“I have to make a quick call. Will you keep an eye on Faith?”

“Of course I will. Is everything okay?”

“No. Please make sure she doesn’t go upstairs.”

Micky’s face softened and concern washed over her pretty face. I’d always liked Nixon Swagger. At one time, he’d been a good friend, then everything went to shit with Holden. After that, I made a series of bad choices—though Faith had come from one of those choices, so I couldn’t regret all the decisions I’d made. But, those decisions had put Nixon, along with Jameson, Weston, and Chasin right in the middle of a mess. While supportive, they’d come down mostly on Holden’s side, and I couldn’t blame them.

I hadn’t lost them per se, but I had lost the closeness and I’d definitely lost their respect. Then after Paul’s death, I’d lost them all in a new way. They avoided me the best they could, only coming around to fulfill what they considered their duty to Paul’s child and widow. Those interactions hurt so badly; I’d put a stop to them all together, insisting I didn’t need their help. Which was a big, fat lie. I needed the support. I missed their friendship. I just plain missed them.

I was happy they’d all found women who complemented them. Especially Nix. He’d been the one to harbor the most guilt about Paul’s death. It wasn’t his fault, but he’d never seen it that way. McKenna was perfect for Nixon.

I’d barely gotten them back and I was going to give them all up again.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” I told her and turned to Faith.

And like always, my daughter was on high alert.

“Mommy—”

“Everything’s fine,” I lied. “I need to make a phone call, then we’ll make another batch of cookies.”

“And finish decorating the Christmas tree?” Faith asked.

“Yes, we’ll finish the tree,” I promised.

A tree that Faith and I had picked out alone. I’d strapped it to the roof of my car, then dragged it up the stairs all by myself and set it on the stand. Same thing we did every year. Just me and Faith.

I jogged up the stairs to the third floor wondering what it would’ve been like if Paul hadn’t died. Would we still be together for Faith’s well-being? Or, would Paul have finally called off the farce of a marriage and divorced me? Would I have been able to continue to live a total lie? By the time I made it to my room, I had no answers to the questions that had plagued my mind for years. But there was one thing I knew for certain—had Paul been alive, his horrendous mother and sister wouldn’t be an issue.

Paul despised them. He would never have allowed them around Faith.

But Paul wasn’t around to shield his daughter from their malice. And each year, the Towler family became more vindictive. More hateful.

Now they wanted to take Faith from me.

Over. My. Dead. Body.

I swiped the screen of my cell and knew I should take a minute to calm down. My mom called me a reactor, meaning I reacted before I thought. My best course of action was to have my attorney answer this latest court filing and not allow myself to get sucked back into their sick game.