Page 136 of Never Bet Against A Hockey Player

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Lancaster said, “but let’s wrap it up.”

“Please, clarify what these punishments entailed, Miss Lancaster,” my lawyer encouraged.

My stomach churned. This was the part I was dreading the most. No one wanted to relive the worst days of their lives.

“It was physical almost every time,” I admitted. “Sometimes she wouldn’t allow me to eat with him, but most of the time she would just take her anger and frustration out with her fists. She was always careful. There was never bruising on my arms or face, always making sure they could be hidden. Her image was important to her.”

A murmur of whispers echoed in the court and I forced myself to peek at my mother. She was fuming. I could see that same look that promised me pain and suffering soon.

Only this time I wasn’t afraid. I knew very well that she would never be able to put her hand on me again and that let me face off with her for the first time where I had the advantage.

Her lawyer whispered something in her ear as we stared each other down. Whatever he said had her eyes drifting down and that wounded omega look back on her face.

“Were these attacks often done within view of your brother?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I tried to tell him to go but she wanted him to watch. It was a warning.”

“So, not only was she physical with you, she forced a minor to witness these attacks on his caretaker? Repeatedly?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. My voice remained steady through the entire interaction. I’d expected to look at my mates for strength where they sat in the back of the courtroom, but I could feel them, and that was enough for me.

I wanted to appear independent. To show them that I could stand on my own. I was stable.

“And if you were given permanent custody of your brother, could you provide a stable environment?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “I have a pack, a steady job. We own a car and a house together, and we have a village of support around us. We have also compiled a stack of character witness statements.”

“Nothing further,” my lawyer said.

My entire body wanted to slump in exhaustion, but I forced myself to stand and walk back to our table.

After a short break, it was Gavin’s turn to take the stand. He sat there, but the judge unexpectedly didn’t call either lawyer to the front.

“I will not subject this child to interrogation. I will, however, ask him to confirm or deny the allegations that have been put forward today.”

Gavin swallowed and looked right at the judge, holding his head high.

“What Dhara said was true. I had to watch for years as my sister protected me. She gave me everything I have. My mother wasn’t really around. In fact, when she was, I was always scared. Not for myself, but for my sister. I had to watch her beat my sister every day. I have never felt like my mother is my mother.”

He looked over at me.

“Dhara is my real mom. I’ll never go with my mother again. She should still be in jail.”

He said the words with his little fists clenched at his sides, his voice forceful.

“No! You’re my baby!” she screamed. “She’s never let you be mine! It was her, not me! You know I love you, Gavin.”

Gavin locked eyes with me as he ignored her pleas and fake tears. It was all an act. We didn’t buy it.

“Order,” the judge said, striking his gavel several times until her lawyer hissed something at her and she sat quietly.

My mother was falling apart. Good. Reality was finally sinking in.

I hoped she was taking every word we’d said to heart, but I knew better. She’d twist this around and play the victim to anyone that would listen.

As long as she left us alone, I didn’t give a fuck.

“So, you are stating that you wish to remain in the custody of your sister, Dhara Livingston?”