True. But this is like BFF code. I was specifically told not to tell you and that you were not to go to the court. It was a big no-no, Hayes.
I get the point. She doesn’t want me.
The words hurt to type. More than they should for someone who’s just a friend. It only makes me want to be there more though.
Did I say that? I don’t remember saying that.
Give me the information.
The three dots appear and disappear, and I’m growing more annoyed by the second.
If Leighton asks, you DIDN’T hear it from me.
She sends me the details, and I check my scedule. I think I can make it work—I have a practice that day, but no game. I don’t care what I have to do—I’ll be there, whether she wants me there or not. If I learned anything last year, it’s that sometimes you don’t know you need someone until they’re standing next to you.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Leighton
* * *
I have never been this nervous in my life.
I was more at ease deciding which house I wanted to live in, my mom’s or my dad’s, when I was thirteen. Back then, walking into the courtroom, I felt the weight of everyone’s expectations as the judge asked me questions. Now, I feel as though I’m in my parents’ shoes, anxious that I won’t get what I want before I even enter the courtroom.
In the hallway, I spot my mom and Aunt Iris sitting on a bench. My dad is leaning against the wall a few feet away. My mom stands immediately, rushing over and wrapping her arms around me. My dad joins us, both of them competing to comfort me.
“Oh my god, leave her alone, you two,” Aunt Iris says, always my guard dog when it comes to their tug-of-war games.
I glance down the hallway and see Patrick’s dad a couple of benches away, but there’s no sign of Art or Julianna. Every time I’ve gone through something major, I had comfort from Callie, and if not her, there was Sky. Now, Sky is dead, and I told Callie a million times she was not to leave that tour. My family surrounds me, yet I feel entirely alone. They’re not the most comforting people, to say the least.
“So what’s the deal? What do we have to do?” my mom asks, her need for information palpable.
“I don’t know. Mr. Notting said I would meet him and the other lawyer here. He thinks she’s the best option, so that’s who I’m going with.”
“He should be here already. The court is supposed to hear your case in ten minutes,” she insists, worry creeping into her voice.
“I know, Mom. I just… I don’t know what to tell you.”
Her gaze shifts to my dad. “You should’ve helped her figure this out.”
Aunt Iris glares at Patrick’s dad. “I can’t believe he’s just sitting there letting us all go through this when he knows it should be you who has the kids.”
I agree. I don’t understand why he isn’t more involved either. He never was. We kind of adopted Patrick into our family, and while his dad, Art, and Julianna had their moments with us, we were rarely all together.
Just then, the elevator doors open, revealing Mr. Notting and a tall blonde with a sleek bob. She’s impeccably dressed in a black suit and heels. I glance down at my outfit, feeling like the big-box-store version. I live in scrubs and comfy clothes most of the time.
They’re talking and laughing, and for a moment, I see Mr. Notting as a real person, not the serious lawyer I’ve known. He’s dressed in his usual expensive suit and polished shoes, and that salt-and-pepper beard that I know drives Callie crazy is perfectly groomed as always.
I wait for them to reach us, my mom and dad anchored to my sides. As usual, them being together feels like an actual anchor weighing me down. Aunt Iris takes a seat back on the bench, her rheumatoid arthritis likely flaring up today. This additional stress isn’t good for her.
“Leighton.” Mr. Notting extends his hand while he’s still steps away from me. He glances behind me but doesn’t acknowledge my parents, which I’m sure reinforces my mom’s belief that all men are slime.
My dad steps forward. “Lenny Sinclair, Leighton’s dad.” He offers his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Mr. Notting responds before turning to my mom.
