The Brightest Sunset

“No fucking way,” I breathed, picking the newspaper up and scanning the article, unsuccessfully avoiding the picture of Porter, Tanner, and Lucas huddled together at a Braves game.

Much like they had the day he had been kidnapped, the media had caught wind of Lucas’s return.

Magically over the last six days, a barrage of pictures of the Reese family had surfaced and started circulating around social media. And, considering that Tanner Reese was a household name, people didn’t take kindly to the idea of his nephew being kept from him.

Judgmental Judys from all over the world started taking sides with people they had never met, all of them gearing up for a down-and-dirty custody battle over an innocent child. I’d never been more ashamed of the human race as I was while reading the hateful and disgusting comments on the one and only article I’d read online about our situation.

Half of them blasting me.

Half of them blasting Porter.

All of them uninformed.

I kept my eyes aimed at Brady and asked, “He can’t do this, right?”

He rested his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers under his chin, and stated smugly, “You finally ready to listen to me now?”

I pinned him with a glower. “You can stop being an ass. He hasn’t had any contact with Porter.”

And he hadn’t. Lucas asked for Porter more often than not. It had killed, but I’d made up excuses. I’d promised Brady I’d toe the line about contact with Porter, and until the investigation was concluded, I had every intention of keeping my end of the bargain.

“What about Tanner?” Brady shot back. “Any more contact there?”

“It was only that once, and that wasn’t my choice. Lucas had already seen him. I wasn’t going to drag him kicking and screaming away.”

“You’re his parent, Charlotte. Until he’s eighteen, everything he does is our choice.”

I looked back to Lucas, playing with a remote-control helicopter my mom had bought him. His eyes were aimed toward the sky, a huge smile covering his face.

In the six days since we’d gotten him back, I’d seen him smile numerous times, but never like that. His eyes were always cautious, and he wore a permanent mask of unease. But, right then, he had not a care in the world except for getting that brown-and-tan-camo helicopter to stay in the air.

The minute his gaze would find mine or Brady’s, his smile would disappear. Most of the time, he covered it quickly, plastering a new grin on before we had the chance to question it. But, each and every time, for those three seconds, his mask faltered and revealed his true emotions—and they were heartbreaking.

“Tanner’s harmless,” I said to Brady.

“Oh, really?” He scoffed. “You think it’s Porter paying for three new big-wig attorneys and a publicist to spin this whole bullshit social media campaign their way?”

I threw my arms out to my sides. “I don’t fucking know. Okay? I’ve never done this before.”

“None of us have! But a little common sense would go a long fucking way.”

I glared at him. “I’ve kept my word. He hasn’t talked to Porter or anyone else in the Reese family since that first day. You can lay off, okay? He’s not getting full custody.”

He barked a humorless laugh. “No. Charlotte, he’s not. Because there isn’t a chance in hell that he’s getting any custody of my son. If that asshole and his stupid fucking brother think they can march into that courtroom and try to take what’s mine, they’re in for the surprise of their lives. I did not spend ten years searching to turn my son over to the man who kidnapped him.”

“He didn’t kidnap him!” I snapped. “Christ, Brady. Even Tom has admitted Porter had nothing to do with that woman taking him.”

The aura around him suddenly became dense. He had been pissed before, but with those four words, he’d become damn near livid. He took only two steps, but there was no mistaking his movements as anything other than a malicious prowl.

Keeping his voice low, he seethed, “Just because he didn’t physically take him doesn’t mean he didn’t spend years keeping our son from us. I don’t know what the fuck that sick piece of shit did to brainwash you, but for over a month, our son stood right in front of you while you chose not to see him. You want to act like you still don’t see him. Fine. But I do. And I won’t stop until that man is out of Lucas’s life forever.”

My mouth gaped open, his words slashing through me with a vicious velocity. Brady had said a lot of nasty things to me over the years. Most of which were true, so I couldn’t even argue with him.

But this? This was by far his lowest blow.

“You think I should have recognized Lucas the first time I saw him?” I asked, awestruck.

His jaw ticked as he held my gaze, screaming his confirmation when he hadn’t uttered a single word.

“Holy shit. You do,” I whispered, anger and shock swirling inside me. My body hummed as I sneered, “There’s no pleasing you, is there? He’s finally home. I’m working with you, against my better judgment, to keep him away from the only man he’s ever trusted. And that still isn’t good enough for you.”

“See, that’s the problem, Charlotte. As we’ve found out over the last ten years, your judgment is shit. Porter Reese will never be a part of my son’s life.” He pointed a single finger in my face. “Do not cross me on this. That is your only warning.”

Like hackles, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “My warning?”

“Don’t push—”

Suddenly, the door slid open and Lucas appeared, preventing me from a lifetime in prison for having killed his father.

“Hey, Charlotte,” he called cheerfully.

Keeping my death glare on Brady, I replied, “Hey, Travis. You ready to go?”

“Sure,” he chirped. “Hey, guess what? Brady gave me a twenty-dollar iTunes card so I can buy some new skins for my character in Minecraft.”

“Wow. That was really nice of him,” I said in a sugary-sweet tone that would have made Rita proud, all the while continuing my stare down with the devil.

“I’ll go grab my stuff,” he said, taking off down the hall.

When I was sure he was out of earshot, I snarled, “Don’t you dare threaten me. I’ve spent a lot of years being your doormat, but I’m done, Brady. You want to make idle threats? You better be prepared to back them up. And that is your only warning.”

His lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Right.” Though the way he said it sounded a whole lot more like, Fuck you.

He casually walked away, seemingly unfazed. Meanwhile, my pulse was thundering in my ears.

I was so fucking done with Brady’s bullshit.

Though, after that little showdown, I had a feeling it was just getting started.

It was eleven that same night and I was finally going through the bag of clothes my mom had bought for me to wear to the custody hearing the following day. None of them were anything I ever would have picked out for myself. They were all too pink. Too lacy. Too floral. But, then again, I could hardly wear a scrub top to court. After tossing them aside, I took a sip of my glass of wine. I’d poured it under the pretense of celebrating my first night of vacation from work, but I was truly drinking it to calm my nerves.

Between Porter’s new attempt to get full custody and Brady’s being even more of a dick than usual, I’d been a mess all afternoon.

On one hand, I shouldn’t have been surprised by Brady. A few kind moments since we’d gotten Lucas back did not equal a changed man. I should have expected he’d slide back down the asshole ladder. Though, if I really thought about it, he’d never truly climbed off.

Porter though? He’d shocked me. And more than that? He’d hurt me.

It was stupid. We were fighting over the most prized possession a person could ever have. All bets were off. But maybe that was exactly the problem. Lucas/Travis wasn’t a possession at all.

He was a confused little boy who, as much as it pained me, should have a say over his life. And he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted Porter.

Only hours earlier, I’d sat outside of his door, listening to him cry tears he would never show me, after I’d told him that he couldn’t call his dad until the courts said it was okay.