We are silent as the judge shuffles through the paperwork in front of him. My lawyer, a stoic man who reminds me of an older, shorter Hale in a way, assured me that we got lucky with Judge Reynolds. He’s tough in the sense that he asks a lot of questions, but he’s always been unflinchingly fair.
Anita sits at the table parallel to mine, her arms crossed tightly and her lips pressed into a thin line. When she walked in about fifteen minutes ago, I didn’t recognize her at first. That’s how absent she’s been. I saw her once at mine and Bella’s wedding, then never again.
Surely the judge will see that handing Leo off to her, regardless of her status as a blood relative, isn’t fair at all?
Her lawyer, a severe woman with platinum hair slicked back into a knot so tight that it must be giving her a migraine, whispers something in Anita’s ear. She nods sharply, refusing to glance my way.
Maybe it should hurt my feelings that she’s decided to hate me out of nowhere, but it’s hard to take offense when the entire situation is so utterly ridiculous. Leo isn’t a bargaining chip. He’smyson.
At last, the judge looks up.
However, he doesn’t look at me or at Anita, nor at our lawyers. His gaze scans the paltry audience and lands somewhere not far behind me.
“Good to see you, Captain Hargrove,” says Judge Reynolds.
“Likewise, Your Honor,” replies the captain politely.
I want to twist around and ask him how he knows Reynolds, but I force myself to stay facing front. It’s probably just because, more recently now than ever before, everyone seems to know Captain Hargrove. All for good reasons, too. He’s a hero. So is Noah. I suppose I am, too.
And Lila, above all else, is our heroine.
Reynolds nods at the captain and then fixes his gaze on me and then my adversary for a moment.
“So, I see we’ve come here today to discuss a child custody issue raised by a Ms. Anita Collins against Mr. Evan Reyes concerning the welfare of a minor who claims Collins’ deceased cousin as his biological mother,” he summarizes.
Our lawyers nod silently.
With a vague gesture at Anita’s attorney, Reynolds says, “Explain.”
And so she does. I try my best not to tune it out, but the frustration simmering in my bloodstream threatens to turn every sound into a dull hum. The only thing that keeps me grounded is knowing that Lila and the others are here.
“—the child has extended family on his mother’s side,” Anita’s attorney is saying. “Blood relatives who are ready, willing, and able to provide for him. Mr. Reyes, however, is not legally related to the child, and has made no effort to formally adopt—”
“Objection,” cuts in my attorney. “We have presented evidence that my client has been diligently going through the highly complicated process of adopting the child following Mrs. Reyes’ death, but that funding and career commitments have—”
“Yes, yes,” Reynolds cuts in. “Sustained.”
With pursed lips, the other attorney continues. “Regardless, my client believes the child could be raised among his biological connections…”
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I tune most of the rest of it out. The word “biological”hits like a slap anyway. I hate that it implies that, just because I’m not the one who gave Leo half of his DNA, everything I’ve done otherwise is worthless. The fierce fatherly love I feel, the unconditional affection, the support and kindness… their argument is that I couldn’t possibly offer that to Leo.
But the reality is right here in front of all of us. I am Leo’s rightful father.
When it’s my turn to speak, all I have to do is tell the truth.
“I’ve been Leo’s father’s since he was two and a half years old,” I begin. “He was so young when his mother passed away that he doesn’t have any memories of her. He only understands that he once had a mother, but that she is now in heaven. Therefore, I am the only parent he has ever known…”
I go on with my speech, practiced and refined with Lila’s help. I talk about how quickly I bonded with him when I first met Leo, how I learned the story of his abusive father currently locked behind bars. I boldly state that I have never, not once, ever been contacted by one of Leo’s relatives. Not even in the immediate aftermath of Bella’s passing.
Judge Reynolds listens patiently, showing no reaction to anything I’m saying, but I have to believe that I’m saying the right thing.
When I’m finished, he glances back down at the documents in front of him.
“You’ve provided some very moving letters of support, Mr. Reyes,” he comments, squinting over his glasses to peer at a piece of paper. “Twenty-three, to be exact.”
Thanks to Lila. I might have been fine with the letters I got from Hale, Noah, and Rita, but Lila wrote one of her own, then got to work spreading the word to other people at Station 47 who had worked with me closely and had a bond of their own with Leo.
“Yes, Your Honor,” I answer, because I’m not sure if he’s asking for an explanation or not.
