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“Took you long enough,” Isaiah said by way of greeting. He was in the kitchen, doing something in the fridge. He’d changed into the same dress pants and shirt he’d worn to the initial lawyer’s meeting.

“And I told you not to leave. Said I’d be back.” Mark paced in front of the island. “I had to call my lawyer. And my uncle.”

“Funny. I’m on my way to my lawyer to talk about you. And your uncle.” Isaiah shut the fridge but didn’t even glance Mark’s way.

“This doesn’t have to change anything.” Mark wished Isaiah would at least look at him.

“How do you figure that? You want to take the kids from me! How does that not change everything?”

“No, it’s not like that at all. See I was doing it for us. For you. After what happened at the hospital, I wanted to make sure that no one could ever question our right to the kids again. I figured if the court gave me custody, either financial or physical or both, I could at least make sure that you’d always have access to the kids, always have a place in their lives, make sure that no one could take that away.”

“Because you figured my case was doomed.” Isaiah shook his head, shoulders slumping. “You didn’t want me named guardian. Figured you couldn’t trust me, but sure you’d dole out visitation—”

“It wouldn’t have to be like that. The lawyer said we could even keep cohabitating if we want, you doing everything you’ve been doing—”

“Cohabitating.” Isaiah made the word sound far uglier than either the lawyer or his uncle had. “Is that what we’ve been doing? Really?”

“Well, no, but we don’t have to tell the court about that.” What they did in private was their own business, the way Mark figured it. And if his uncle was going to get up a head of steam about Isaiah, it was probably better that he stay quiet longer about their personal relationship. “But we could live together. In the best interests of the kids—”

“Oh, sure, for the kids.” Isaiah made a frustrated gesture. “Not about what’s best for me. Or you for that matter.”

“I figured you’d want to be around the kids, in whatever capacity—”

“Can you listen to yourself? Just listen. You. Didn’t. Want. It. To. Be. Me.” He put emphasis on each word, finally staring at Mark, death rays for eyes. “You thought I was too young. Too untrustworthy. Too flighty. And apparently nothing in the last weeks changed that for you? Nothing made you believe in me or my case? You were just pretending, biding your time?”

“Everything changed. I don’t see you like that. Not now.” Mark couldn’t tell if the words were even reaching Isaiah’s ears. “I don’t. But I couldn’t be sure the court would see it your way. I had to protect—”

“You had to protect me?” Isaiah’s eyes went wide.

“Yes.” Now they were getting somewhere. “Exactly. I wanted to protect you so no one could keep you from the kids—”

“Did it ever occur to you, even for say, a millisecond, that I might not need or want your protection? That I’m an adult? Your equal? I’m not a fourth kid, Mark.”

“I know that—”

“No, I don’t think you do. And you don’t get to pull this protector crap with me. You don’t get to lie and keep secrets and interfere with my freaking future just because you’ve decided what’s best. Without consulting me. I demand—deserve—a hell of a lot more respect than that.”

“I do respect you. I was just trying to do the right thing—”

“Well, congrats, you failed miserably on both counts.” Isaiah strode away from Mark, over to the patio doors. “And now, I get to try to fix your mess. I hope to God my lawyer has better answers for me than you. Because you know what? If you really trust me, respect me, value me, you’ll drop this, have your lawyer withdraw—”

“I can’t do that.” Mark followed him, desperate to make him understand. If it was just him, he would do whatever Isaiah wanted, but Isaiah was wrong on one thing—it was Mark’s job to protect Isaiah. And that included from Mark’s family. His uncle’s harsh words still rang his ears. “My uncle—”

“Save it.” Isaiah scooped up the diaper bag and baby car seat.

“Can’t we talk this out?” The situation had rapidly spiraled out of control, a mission gone completely FUBAR. And now he was left jogging after Isaiah.

“No.” Isaiah stopped at his car, turned back toward Mark. “I’m going to meet with my lawyer. That’s all the talk I want today.”

“Are you...are you coming back?” Mark could barely force the words out. He wanted to pull Isaiah to him, never let him go.

Isaiah made a frustrated noise. “Later. Because you have duty tomorrow. All this week. And no nanny. Because you do have me. I just wish you’d seen that. You need me. So, yeah, I’ll be here. With the kids. For the kids. I’m not some drama prince, gonna rip them from their home just because I am pissed as all get out at you. So I’m here until I can make a good, safe plan for them. The kind the court is gonna want to see. Because I am winning my case.”

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