The Brightest Sunset

The courtroom was silent as Porter held me tighter than ever before. His deep and raspy I-love-yous echoed in my ear. My body sagged in his arms, the comfort and warmth only he possessed quelling the storm inside me.

“Well, okay, then. Anything else from you, Mr. Boyd?” Judge Gratham asked at the same time my phone started vibrating in my pocket.

“Charlotte,” Brady called with urgency.

I didn’t have much else to say to the man. If he was ready for round two, I was going to have to sit it out.

Turning in Porter’s arm, I groaned, “Please, just stop. I can’t—”

“We got a heart,” he whispered, lifting his phone in the air as if I could read the message on the screen.

Chills exploded over my skin. “What?”

Porter echoed me. “What?”

Brady’s eyes bulged wide at the same time a giant smile split his face. “We got a heart!”

Time stopped.

I understood what he was saying, but it felt too incredible to be real. So I asked again, “What?”

Porter patted my pockets down before fishing my phone out. He let out a loud laugh that broke at the end as he announced, “They found him a heart.”

“We gotta go!” Brady exclaimed, rushing toward the door, only slowing long enough to take his wife’s hand and drag her after him.

But I didn’t move.

“Porter?” I whispered and tilted my head back to see him.

His pleading, blue gaze was locked at the judge. “Please, your honor. Let me see him before he goes into surgery. It could be the last time—”

“It’s not going to be the last time,” the judge said matter-of-factly. “But go ahead, son. Get out of here. All of you. Supervised visitation is granted. Your attorneys and I will work out the visitation details until I can make a final ruling on custody.”

My chest swelled.

Porter’s breath left him on a rush. “Oh God. Thank you so much.”

“I don’t want to hear one word about you and Mr. Boyd getting into any more hospital brawls.”

“No, sir. Of course not.”

He smiled and made a shooing motion with his hands. “Good luck today. I’ll be praying for your boy.”

“Thank you,” Porter and I called in unison as we raced from the room.

Hand in hand.

Together.

* * *

“I love you,” I whispered to my son as we surrounded him in the pre-op room.

“I love you too,” he slurred, a goofy smile on his face.

The nurse had just slipped a little something into his IV to relax him while we waited for an anesthesiologist to show up.

Charlotte was standing beside me, looking over his chart for what had to be the tenth time, and Brady was glaring at me from the corner.

I hated that man something fierce. I could have overlooked it if he had been an ass just to me. But he’d been giving Charlotte hell for over a decade, blaming her for what Catherine had done. It took every good and decent fiber of my being not to go ballistic each time I saw him.

But, today, as Charlotte had been talking about me in the courtroom, I’d watched Brady’s face. And every single positive word she had said about me had slashed through him like a razor blade.

He was a dick. There was no questioning that. But we did have something in common.

He loved my son.

Our son.

His son.

Travis.

Lucas.

Whatever you wanted to call him.

Brady loved him.

And, right then, just like I was, he was scared out of his fucking mind at the very idea of him going into surgery.

I settled on the edge of the bed and lowered my voice so only Travis could hear me.

“Hey, bud. Can you do me a favor?”

He smiled toothy and wide. “Sure, Dad.”

I rested my hand on his forearm and gave him a squeeze. “Do you remember that time that you really wanted to buy some coins on that game on your iPad but you weren’t supposed to get your allowance for another week?”

“But they were on sale.” He laughed.

“Right,” I whispered. “They were on sale, so I gave you an advance on your allowance so you could buy them.”

“Yeah,” he drawled. “That was so awesome.”

I chuckled. “So, here’s the thing, bud. Brady and Charlotte love you a lot. And I know you don’t necessarily love them yet, but I promise you will one day. I was wondering if maybe you could give them an advance on that love before you go in and get that new ticker of yours. You know, just to make them feel better.”

“I like Charlotte.” He shrugged. “I could love her.”

I smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

“Brady’s nice and all, but—”

“It’s just an advance, Trav. It would mean a lot to them.”

He stared at me, unfocused for several seconds, then smiled. “Okay, then.”

God, I loved my son.

My vision began to swim, but I refused the tears their release. This was not a sad day.

It was a day for smiles and laughs.

For hopes and dreams.

For futures and celebration.

But, most of all, it was a day for new beginnings.

“Hey, Brady,” Travis croaked.

Brady became unstuck from the corner. “I’m right here, Travis.”

“I…just wanted to say…” He flicked his gaze to mine and then back to Brady. “That I love you.”

I patted my son’s hand, pride soaring inside me.

Charlotte gasped.

Brady’s whole body locked up tight. His eyes grew wide almost as quickly as they filled with tears. He coughed and then cleared his throat. “I love you too.”

“You got to be nicer to Charlotte,” Travis continued, and I tucked my head low and chuckled.

“Oh…uh…yeah, okay,” Brady breathed.

“She’s pretty awesome when you get to know her. She’d be way cooler if she got a TV for her apartment. But at least she has Wi-Fi.”

Charlotte stepped forward and took his hand. “I promise. As soon as we get a new house, we’ll get a TV.”

Travis shot her a wide smile. “Okay, then I don’t have to give you an advance when I tell you that I love you.”

She nodded at least a dozen times. Her face did that scrunchy trying-not-to-cry-and-failing thing she did so often. It usually made me laugh, and this was no different.

Taking her hand in mine, I guided her to stand between my legs.

“I love you too,” she whispered through tears.

“Don’t cry.” He laughed. “Go ahead. You can call me Lucas if it will make you feel better.”

Her face softened and somehow turned sad even as she smiled. “I don’t want to call you Lucas. If you’re Travis, then I love you, Travis.”

He stared at her, his drunken gaze flashing with a moment of clarity. “Really?”

She wrapped her hand over his and lifted her hands to her mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Of course. I don’t want you to be anyone else. I love you.”

There was no mistaking the honesty in her voice.

My throat burned with unshed emotion.

It was amazing the way children could heal you with such simple words.

If only our words could have healed him.

Ten minutes later, anesthesia finally arrived. With kisses, hugs, and whispered good-lucks, we left our son in the hands of the transplant team. Charlotte stayed with Travis, while Brady and I were escorted to a waiting room where most of our family had already congregated.

Tanner and Rita were there. My mom had stayed home to keep Hannah, but she had sent Dad with strict instructions to text her every ten minutes. Charlotte’s mom and Tom were there, along with some faces I didn’t recognize that I assumed were from Brady’s family.

And we were all there for one little boy.

Strapped in and ready to wait out the longest four hours of our lives together.

I’d just finished making my way around the room, receiving hugs and words of encouragement—including a brisk handshake from Tom—when Charlotte finally joined us.

She smiled at her mom and nodded to Tom, but she came straight to me.