Racing to the window, I found it open, but he was nowhere in sight.
On shaky legs, I climbed out the window, landing in the mulch-filled flowerbed before taking off at a dead sprint.
“Lucas!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the surrounding apartments. When he still didn’t answer, I raced around the building, praying with my every turn that he would be there.
Panting, I scanned the parking lot, desperate for just one glimpse of his dark hair, hope fading into agony with every passing second.
Oh God. This was not happening.
“Lucas!” I choked out, spinning in a tight circle.
I was on the verge of hyperventilating when movement in the bushes caught my attention.
“Lucas!” I shrieked with relief when I saw his tear-soaked face peering at me through the leaves.
He was crouched, doing his best to hide, but his legs were too long to get him low enough to fully disappear.
My heart exploded and the ground swayed beneath my feet, but nothing could have stopped me from getting to him.
Branches cut and scraped my legs as I waded into them after him. “Oh God, Lucas.”
He batted my hand away. “I’m not Lucas!”
Tears finally hit my eyes, my fear transforming into anger. “What the hell are you doing?” I cried.
“I’m going home!” he yelled before doubling over with heaving breaths.
Using his arm, I guided him out of the bushes, but he fought me every step of the way. “Christ, Travis. I thought I’d lost you again.”
His nostrils flared, and his lips trembled. “You’re never going to let me see him again, are you?”
“It’s not my decision.”
“Why not?” He gasped for air. “Why can’t it be your decision? You’re supposedly my mom, right?”
“No supposedly about it. I am your mom, and Brady is your dad.”
“No, he’s not! I hate him.”
“No, you don’t,” I whispered.
He balled his fists at his sides and planted his weight on one foot as he leaned toward me and screamed, “Yes, I do! I hate all of you!”
I blanched, rocking back on a heel. He was a kid. A scared, confused, angry kid.
But that still seared through me like a scorching hot knife to the chest.
I didn’t let it show. “I know this is hard, but we love you.”
“You don’t love me!” His face crumbled, and his shoulders shook violently. “You love Lucas. And my mom, she just wanted me to replace her dead son, Travis. But my dad—my real dad—he’s the only one who ever wanted me!” He collapsed to his knees in the grass before falling forward to his hands, sucking in sharp, heaving breaths.
I followed him down, rubbing his back, because quite honestly, I had no idea what else to do.
Every word he’d said had cut me like the rusty, jagged blade of reality.
Because, as much as I wanted to deny it…
He wasn’t wrong.
* * *
“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.