“Here, you be Ken,” Hannah offered, holding out a naked male doll who thankfully had a pair of tighty-whities painted on. She’d been desperately trying to change the subject since the conversation had started.
I couldn’t blame her. I wanted to change it too.
Today hadn’t gone well at the courthouse. And, while staring down the barrel of at least two weeks before we even had the possibility of seeing Travis again, I had to tell her something.
Her questions weren’t going to stop, but honestly, I didn’t have many answers. So I told her the facts. Travis wasn’t staying with a friend—he was staying with his birth parents. Why I’d thought her naïve mind could understand that when I could barely comprehend the madness of it all, I had no idea.
Her first question had been if Travis was in heaven with their mom. With that, a whole new pain had taken up residence inside me. But I’d been forced to finish the conversation.
I took the doll from her and set it aside. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Hannie?” I asked, my voice rough like sandpaper.
I was lying flat on my back in the middle of her bedroom floor, a discarded tea party on my left, a Barbie dream house on my right, my daughter straddling my stomach as she sat on top of me.
Thanks to my mom, her long, unruly, brown hair had been braided to look like her favorite princess, and she toyed with the end of it over her shoulder. Her chocolate-brown eyes, which matched her mother’s, lifted to mine. “Does he still love us?”
I’d changed out of my suit the minute we’d gotten home and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that was going to have to be burned after this conversation. There was no way I’d ever be able to wear it again with the memories of her devastation clinging to it.
“Of course,” I assured her, sitting up and wrapping her in a hug. “He’s always going to love us. And we’re always going to love him.”
“Do I have to get a new mommy and daddy too?”
An ache filled my hollow chest. “No. Never,” I swore. “I’m your only daddy. And your mom was your only mommy.”
“So, why does Travis have two?”
I sighed, kicking myself in the ass for not asking my mom to be a part of this discussion. “Well…” I started only to trail off when my phone rang in my pocket.
And, much like her offer for me to play Ken, I, too, was suddenly desperate for a way out of not only this conversation, but this situation as well.
“Hold that thought,” I said, digging into my back pocket.
I lifted the screen into my line of sight, and then all at once, the oxygen was sucked from the room. Shifting her to one side, I burst up off the floor with her still in my arms.
One word flashing on my phone sent an avalanche of adrenaline crashing down on me.
“Charlotte?” I said, pressing my phone to my ear.
“Come over,” she pleaded in a hushed and urgent tone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, dashing from the room to collect my keys and wallet.
“Everything,” she cried. “God, Porter. Everything.”
My heart lurched, and fear iced my veins. “What’s going on? Talk to me. Is Travis okay?”
“He’s fine,” she choked out through tears. “He’s doing a breathing treatment. Please, just come over. Come over. Come over.”
Relief only washed the fear away—the anxiety was permanent.
Hannah held tight to my neck as I jogged through our house, pausing only to slip a pair of shoes on before I was out the door.
“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone.”
“I have to go. He’s almost finished.”
I planted Hannah in her car seat, buckled her in, and then hurried around to the driver’s side. “Charlotte, wait.” With a flick of the key, my Tahoe roared to life, and I snatched it into gear.
“I have to go,” she breathed.
A plethora of words danced on the tip of my tongue. Everything ranging from, Are you okay? to I love you. But, as I flew out of my neighborhood, one destination in mind, “I’ll be there soon,” were the only ones that escaped.
It took me thirty agonizing minutes to get to her apartment. Hannah asked approximately seven thousand questions on the way over. I answered exactly none of them. I debated on swinging past my parents’ house to drop her off, but that might have been our only chance to see Travis, and damn it, I wasn’t taking that away from either of them.
During the drive, my head swirled.
Hope was telling me she was going to give him back.
Fear was telling me she was setting me up to break the protection order.
My mind was telling me she was hurting and scared.
My soul was telling me she was hurting and needed me.
But, through it all, my son’s dark-brown eyes and wide smile guided my path.
“Where are we?” Hannah asked as I unbuckled her from her car seat.
I blew out a ragged breath and stared at the sidewalk that led to Charlotte’s front door—to him. “Travis’s new house.”
Nerves rolled in my stomach, and my heart was beating so hard I thought it might burst from my chest, but she gasped so loudly I couldn’t help but smile.
“Can I see him?” she breathed in excitement.
“God, I hope so,” I admitted.
One foot in front of the other, my legs devoured the distance to her door.
I knocked once, blew out an anxious sigh, and then knocked again.
My hand was still poised in the air when she swung it open.
“Hi,” she squeaked. Her face was pale, and her hollow eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles supporting them from the bottom. She looked a lot like the woman lost in the darkness that I’d first met at that spring fling. And it fucking killed to see her like that, knowing the breathtaking smiles and heart-stopping laughs she was capable of.
I forced a grin. “Hi.”
Her gaze flicked to Hannah, who was on my hip, and she shot me a tight smile that made her chin quiver. “He’s in the bedroom.”
Reaching out, I caught the back of her neck and pulled her against me.
She came willingly, her hand going to my free hip and twisting into my T-shirt.
“Are you okay?” I asked before pressing my lips to her forehead.
“No,” she croaked. “But he will be.” She stepped out of my reach and swung a hand toward the bedroom. “Go. We can talk later.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. With hurried steps, I carried Hannah straight to Charlotte’s bedroom. Not even bothering with a knock, I shoved the door open wide.
And then the most indescribable peace I had ever experienced washed over me as my world finally stilled.
Travis’s head snapped up from the iPad he’d been playing on. He didn’t look any different than the last time I’d seen him.
He was too thin.
Too pale.
Too sick.
But, when I saw him now, he did look a lot like Charlotte.
And he was still one hundred percent mine.
“Dad!” he screamed, exploding off the bed.
I raced toward him, not stopping until he collided with my front.
“Dad,” he repeated, wrapping his arms around my waist, his shoulders shaking in time with my own.
“Hey, Trav,” I choked out, patting his back while setting my squirming daughter down so she could get in on the love too.
“Travis!” she giggled, stepping into his side, mirroring his hold on me, and hugging the life out of him.
Warmth filled my chest as I dropped to my knees and palmed each side of his face. I planted a kiss to his forehead that, only a week ago, he would have complained about. Now, he wiggled even closer, tears streaming down his cheeks.
I sat at the foot of the bed, and he followed me closely, wedging himself between my legs, Hannah still attached to him.
He rested his head against my shoulder like he had done so often when he had been younger, but not in years.
“How you doing, buddy?” I asked quietly, smoothing his hair down before pressing another kiss to the top of his head.
“I want to come home,” he whined.
“I know. I want that too.”
He peered up at me expectantly. “Then why can’t I?”
The vise on my chest wrenched tight, and I lifted my gaze to the doorway.
Charlotte was standing there, twin rivers pouring from her eyes, a myriad of emotions etched in her face, all of them terrorizing her.
With my heart in my throat, I glanced around at the absolute devastation Catherine had caused all of us.
My son was fighting the battle of his life with his health; he didn’t need this shit on top of it.
My daughter was hurting and confused because she was losing her big brother and best friend.
Charlotte had been lost for almost a decade, and now, she had her son back, but she was living, breathing, and suffering through his pain the way any good mother would.
And I… Well, I was falling apart. But I was also the only one left to pick up the pieces.
“We’re going to figure this out,” I announced to the entire room. “I’m here now. And we’re together. That’s all that matters.”
Charlotte nodded and started to back out of the room.
“Sweetheart,” I called, and her sad gaze lifted to mine. “Thank you,” I whispered.
She nodded again and started to pull the door closed.
My body screamed for me to stop her.
To ask her to stay.
To drag her into the darkness and ease both of our hearts.
But, judging by Travis’s death grip around my neck, my son needed some time with his father in the light.
“Don’t go far,” I told her.
She slid her gaze to Travis. “I couldn’t if I tried.”
“Charlotte,” I breathed in apology.
She faked a smile. “I’ll see what I can drum up for dinner.” She paused and then added, “For all of us.”
The door clicked softly behind her.
My body sagged in a confusing mixture of relief and defeat.
“Daddy,” Hannah whispered, patting my thigh.
I looked down at her. “Yeah?”
With wide eyes, she shook her head. “Guess what? There’s no TV in Travis’s new room.”
“There’s no TV in the whole place,” Travis complained.
I slapped a hand over my heart and cried out dramatically, “Oh God, say it ain’t so!”
Travis glowered.
Hannah giggled.
And I smiled because, regardless that our lives were in shambles, in that moment, with Travis on my right and Hannah on my left, everything was right.
Over the next two hours, the three of us stayed locked in that room. Alone while the chaos of reality continued to roar outside.
Travis asked questions I didn’t have the answers to. I made promises I couldn’t possibly uphold. But, for those minutes with him lying in the bed beside me, a game of Minecraft playing on his iPad, his heart beating slow and steady, his breaths even and easy, I felt not an ounce of guilt for lying to him.
He needed that.
The simple.
The predictable.
The monotony.
And, a few hours later, as he fell asleep next to his sister, the sun barely sinking over the horizon, I learned how badly they both needed it.
And I had a feeling they weren’t the only ones.