The Brightest Sunset

His face had crumbled, in turn crumbling my soul.

I hated it for him.

I hated it for me.

And, secretly, I hated it for Porter as well.

After picking my phone up, I brought up the thread of messages I shared with Porter. That picture of us laughing in bed was still front and center. My pulse spiked at the sight.

I traced my fingers over the strong curve of his jaw, wishing I could feel the scruff that had once sent chills down my spine.

My eyes drifted to Travis’s message to his dad.

Hey dad I’m with Charlotte she said she will take care of me until you can come get me. I love you. See you soon.

It wasn’t quite what I had told him when I’d let him send that text, but I assumed it was what his eager mind had heard.

Porter hadn’t responded, which honestly had surprised the hell out of me. There was an order of protection in place, but he wasn’t the type of guy who would just walk away and hope for the best. By now, I figured he’d be beating down my door.

Closing my eyes, I clutched my phone tight.

That afternoon, when we’d gotten home from Brady’s, Lucas and I had watched a movie on my laptop.

Well, more accurately, he’d watched a movie on my laptop.

I’d watched him.

He was so much like Porter it was insane. Honest to God, he even looked like him in a lot of ways. In the great debate of nature versus nurture, Lucas was proof that nurture always won out.

I had to stop obsessing about Porter. It wasn’t doing any of us any good. It was crushing me more with every passing minute. And, honestly, it was distracting me from what truly mattered: having my son back.

Clicking on Porter’s name in my contacts, I had every intention of deleting him from my phone. Only my fingers froze, hovering in midair over the screen.

Unblock this number stared up at me like a neon sign.

Unblock.

Unblock.

Un-fucking-block.

My mouth dried, and anger lit my veins.

I’d never blocked Porter’s number.

But I could guess who had. The same man who had gone through my phone and read my text messages. The same man who, only hours earlier, had warned me not to cross him.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” I breathed, pressing the magical unblock button.

And then my heart stopped as a voicemail notification popped up on my screen, Porter’s name in the bubble.

I immediately hit play, chills pebbling my skin as his deep, desperate voice filled my ear, “Hey, sweetheart. I just got Travis’s text.”

“Porter. Stop,” Tanner said in the background.

“Please don’t stop,” I whispered, gnawing on my bottom lip.

“God, baby. What a fucking day,” Porter said before releasing a hard exhale into the phone. “I’m on my way now. Tell Travis I love him. Actually…Christ, I love both of you.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

But Porter from days ago continued in my ear, his voice taking on a low, familiar rumble, “Stay out of the darkness until I get there, Charlotte. I swear on my life I had no idea he was your son. I promise we’ll figure this out.”

The message ended, but with burning lungs, I pressed play again.

“Hey, sweetheart. I just got Travis’s message…”

I stood up and began to pace, my chest constricting as he said, “Actually…Christ, I love both of you.”

When the message ended, I pressed play again. This time focusing on a different sentence.

“I swear on my life I had no idea he was your son.”

Thirteen words.

And call me naïve, stupid, or whatever, but I believed every single one of them.

I pressed play again.

And then again.

And again.

And again.

Over and over until I couldn’t breathe around the lump in my throat.

I wasn’t sure what had changed and why he hadn’t shown up that night. Probably the protection order Brady had so adamantly sworn we needed.

Brady.

Brady.

Fucking Brady.

* * *

“What do you think Travis’s friend’s house looks like?” Hannah asked as I unbuckled her from her car seat.

“I don’t know, baby.”

“How many sleeps until he comes home?”

Sighing, I put her on my hip and headed up the sidewalk to my parents’ front door. “I don’t know.”

It made me a coward, but I’d chickened out on telling her the truth about Travis. She wouldn’t have understood. Instead, I told her that he was staying with a friend for a little bit. She’d asked approximately seven million questions in the week since he’d been gone, each one slicing me to the quick. Eventually, I’d have to tell her the truth. But, hopefully, not today.

“Does his friend have a TV in his room?” she chirped.

“I don’t know.”

“Can I have a TV in my room?”

I grinned down at her. “No.”

My stomach was in knots, and my nerves had left me with jitters all morning, but she always managed to make me smile. She was the only thing that had kept me going over the last week.

My mom swung the front door open before I had the chance to knock. Clapping her hands together, she reached for Hannah. “There’s my girl.”

“Nana!” Hannah squealed, diving from my arms. “Guess what? Travis’s friend has a TV in his bedroom.”

Mom arched an eyebrow at me. “Oh, he does?”

I shrugged and stepped forward to kiss my mom’s temple. “I have no idea. Where’s Tanner?”

“Right here,” he said, rounding the corner, wearing a tailor-made navy-blue suit.

“Hey, Uncle Tan.”

He winked and moved closer to tickle her. “Hey, beautiful.”

She giggled wildly.

Catching his bicep, I dragged him into the dining room.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t wrinkle the suit,” he complained.

I flashed my gaze back to Hannah, who was prattling on about God only knew what, but my mom’s nervous, blue eyes were leveled on me. I shot her a placating smile and then gave her my back.

“Full custody?” I seethed at my brother. “Have you fucking lost your mind?”

“Relax. Kurt knows what he’s doing.”

Tanner had brought in three of the best attorneys in the country to work with Mark. Seriously, when my brother set his mind on something, he went from zero to a million in one point five seconds. As far as he was concerned, what was supposed to be a preliminary custody hearing quickly became the likes of the OJ Simpson trial.

I’d begged him to keep it all on the down low, but where Tanner went, so did the media.

But, even though I appreciated his support, I was done with the fanfare. I wanted my son back and not to have our laundry aired out for the entire world.

“Fuck Kurt. This is ridiculous, and I can’t handle it. Screaming that I’m trying to take him away from Charlotte and Brady isn’t going to win me any sympathy. Full custody is a threat. And, if you or Kurt think otherwise, you’re clearly not a parent.”

His eyebrows shot up. I hoped it was because he was starting to understand, but more likely, it was because he could tell I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Okay, okay. We’ll tell Kurt to back down,” he assured. “Just take a deep breath and try to stay positive.”

Oh, I was positive.

Positive I was losing my mind.

Positive I needed to get my son back.

Positive Catherine had fucked me from beyond the grave.

Keeping all of that to myself, I drew in a deep breath and cracked my neck.

“Better,” he praised. Then he straightened my tie. “I’m impressed. You look almost human.”

I’d barely been surviving over the last week. I’d spent almost every day at the police station, “cooperating” with the investigation. Which really just meant I was spending my days sitting in a room while they scoured through my past and searched for a reason to arrest me. So far, the truth had successfully kept me out of a pair of cuffs. But I hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours over the last seven days. I was tired, physically and emotionally, and I missed my son something fierce.