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The fuck? Of all the people in my life she had to bond with and fall for, it’s Layla.
The camp had to file an incident report—a second one since Katy kicked that kid earlier this week—and since the police were involved and Katy is a minor child in the middle of legal guardianship proceedings, they had to notify social services.
Yep. Social. Fucking. Services.
Tom and I spent two hours yesterday morning ensuring that social services wouldn’t pull her from my house before our prescheduled hearing on Monday.
Now Katy and I are at Zax’s place where I’m supposed to be playing poker while Katy and Fallon watch a princess movie in the other room. Fallon—bless her—is not into poker and told me she’d much rather watchThe Little Mermaidthan watch us play cards. But instead of playing cards, Tom called me this evening to serve me with the second blow in this fiasco.
“Willow’s parents are now petitioning for custody of Katy.”
My eyes cinch tight, and I fly out of my chair, storming over to the window and banging my fist against the glass. “What? Why would they do that?”
I hear concerned murmuring behind me and feel my friends’ eyes boring into my back.
“Callan?” That’s Aurelia.
“Hold on, Tom. I’m putting you on speakerphone so my friends can listen in.”
“Good,” he says. “Their input might be helpful.”
I press the speakerphone button and then walk back over to the card table and drop my phone on the felt so all of us can hear.
“Sit, Callan,” Zax practically orders me. “Calm yourself down so we can talk about this. What’s going on?”
With my jaw clenched tighter than a nun’s asshole, I retake the chair I just vacated and fill my friends in on what Tom just told me. They’re as stunned and raw with this as I am.
Tom’s serious voice through the speaker calls all of our attention back to him. “Willow’s parents somehow found out about Katy’s elopement from camp and the subsequent social services intervention.” He releases a breath. “They are claiming between the incident yesterday and the incident earlier in the week with the little boy that you are unfit to be her guardian.”
“That’s bullshit,” Asher barks out, and I drop my hand to his shoulder, settling him down.
“Sorry, Tom, but it’s true,” I state. “Willow’s parents want the money. They didn’t even try for Katy until this. They’re pissed because they didn’t do well the first time we went to court over the life insurance.” The court didn’t officially rule that day, but their lawyer didn’t present much of a case in their favor to be Katy’s fiduciary guardian.
“Perhaps,” he concedes. “Regardless, this means that in addition to going to court on Monday to continue to argue for fiduciary guardianship of Katy, now we have to face the judge about Katy’s safety in your home, and right now, it’s not looking good.”
A lead weight of fear drops in my stomach. “I could lose her.”
I meet each of my friends' uneasy gazes across the table one by one. Thank God Katy is in the other room and can’t hear this. She doesn’t want to leave me. She just needs more than I can fully give her but that doesn’t mean she needs Willow’s fucking lowlife parents.
Tom takes a breath. The sort of breath that typically precedes bad news. “It’s going to be a fight, Callan. If the court agrees with them, then Willow’s parents will have the life insurance money to raise Katy with, and they’re in decent physical health per the documents. You’re a single man who works long hours and that’s a solid strike against you. It has been since day one.”
“So just like that, they could pull her from his care and a city she’s lived in her entire life and move her to Michigan?” Grey asks, his hands plastered to the back of his head, his elbows butterflied out.
“If they win custody of her, yes.”
Fuck. Just fuck. My hands rake through my hair. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let their greed hurt Katy. And it would hurt her. I have no doubt that Willow’s parents’ motives are less than altruistic or based on love.
“In the weeks since Declan and Willow’s death, they haven’t called to speak to Katy. Not once,” I boom, gripping the edge of the table. “Other than that initial request for her to come to visit them, we haven’t heard a peep about it. One point eight million dollars is a lot of money, and they could use that money however they want since there’s no will to stipulate otherwise.”
“Yes,” Tom agrees. “This is all true. And we will argue about their blatant lack of interest in Katy herself, but their argument is that they want what’s best for Katy and they’re saying you’re not it.”
I shoot out of my chair again, needing to move because I think best when I’m on my feet and in motion.
I know Katy. I love Katy. She has a room in my house that she helped me decorate two years ago. I know her school and her teachers because I’ve picked her up there at least a dozen times. I know her favorite foods and favorite color and favorite shows and favorite things she likes to do on the playground.
And yes, this week hasn’t been ideal, but she’s safe with me. She is.
I can’t let her move away with them. I can’t.
