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40
SUNDAY
Hey.I know it’s late where you are but, uh, you haven’t been answering my texts and I need to talk to you. Call me back when you get this.
Please call me back, babe. I don’t wanna do this but if you don’t call me back, I gotta. S’not fair. Fuck, Sunny, why d’you gotta make everything so hard?
You can’t do this to me. Another man isn’t raising my son. No one thinks this is okay. I… I want custody. I’m gonna get custody.
Call me the fuck back.
“You know,” Luna says, slow and deadly, murderous intentions written all over her face, the phone in her hand—mine—at risk of being crushed beneath her tight grip. “Jackson’s ranch is really big. His body would never be found.”
“C’mon, Luna.” Willow tuts from my other side. “Two lawyers in the family? His body could be found in her bed and we’d get her off.”
“Stop it,” I chastise both of them, twisting to glance over my shoulder at the parking lot. He’s going to be here any minute and I don’t want him to overhear and tell a court I was threatening his life or something.
“He’s really gonna try to get custody?”
“Apparently.”
“Can he even do that?”
“Apparently.”
“No court is gonna give him full custody.”
I know that. There’s not a doubt in my mind that he would never win full custody.
Partial, though, he could. And to me, that’s just as bad. That’s still spending half my time without my kid. I wouldn’t survive that; I’ve had him by my side for almost twelve years. It would be like ripping off a limb.
“It’s a long process.” Willow’s voice is as soothing as the palm she smooths between my shoulder blades. “He’ll probably get bored.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Or maybe he won’t. He’s coming all the way out for a paternity test so he can file a petition to be on August’s birth certificate. That doesn’t screamboredto me.
He’s showing up at the tournament today. We haven’t so much as heard from him, let alone seen him, since the big diner blow-up but obviously with this big decision of his, he has to look like a capable father. He has to look like he’s willing to go the distance. For the first time in his life, he has to show up or there’s real consequences.
And he’s showing up withClare.
It’s fine, though. He has Clare. I have Willow and Luna. And I have Cass. God, if anyone is more enraged about this situation than me, it’s him.
“We’re hiring a lawyer,” he said after those voicemails ended, John’s voice hanging heavy in the room like thick, choking smoke. “We’ll fight this. We’ll win.”
We. Alwayswe. Like it was both of our problems, like it equally affected both of us. Within seconds, he was on the phone making arrangements and I was so in shock, I couldn’t even argue. When I finally got myself together, I didn’t want to.
I’m a proud person. I don’t like charity and I think I’ve made it very clear how I feel about help. But some things are beyond pride. Some things are more important; August is more important than anything. And if Cass and his money and his fancy lawyer can help me keep him, I can’t refuse that.
“August doing okay?”
Emotion clogs my throat too much to answer. I wish I could’ve kept him oblivious but he’s too smart to keep things from. He knows me too well; the morning after, he took one look at me and knew something was wrong, and because logic dictates John is the root of all evil in the world, he knew his father had something to do with it.
He cried when I told him. Threw himself at me and sobbed in my arms like he hasn’t for years, begged me not to let John take him away like he has too many times this year. Naturally, I burst into tears too, the heavy weight of my child clinging to me sending us both to the ground. That’s how Cass found us; practically convulsing on my bedroom floor. Without hesitation, he scooped us up, dropped us in bed, and stroked my hair while rubbing August’s back and promising everything would be okay. August and I had exchanged skeptical looks through bleary eyes, and I hated,I hate, that he was already capable of the same doubt in the world as me.
Days later and he still hasn’t regained the happy glow I’ve become so used to seeing on him. His shoulders haven’t risen from their droopy, defeated position. The furrow in his brow hasn’t smoothed out once. The game hasn’t begun yet he looks like he’s already lost as he slopes around the field, not engaging with any of his teammates despite how hard Izzy is trying. The happy boy who’s slowly been coming out of his shell has all but evaporated and it breaks my heart.
“Fuck, you really look just like your mom.”
“What?” As my gaze snaps to where Luna’s scowl is directed, dread settles deep in my gut.
