Brynn gives me a soft look. “How’s Kate holding up?”
“Trying to keep it together,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Spent half the evening organizing bills and school forms like that’ll make a judge see she’s the most capable woman in the damn county.”
Knox nods, jaw tight. “That sounds about right for her.”
“Yeah.” Brynn sighs. “She keeps apologizing to me for asking to testify if her lawyer calls me up. As if she were dragging me into this. Like I didn’t volunteer the second I found out.”
“Still feels like I’m not doing enough,” I admit. “Daniel’s playing dirty. Her lawyer’s saying Daniel’s investigating our marriage. Trying to dig up dirt on her to ruin her credibility.”
Kinsey snorts. “Oh, that’s rich. Maybe his lawyer should spend five minutes in a room with the two of you. The sexual tension alone could testify against his accusations.”
Brynn chokes on her drink. “Kinsey!”
“What?” Kinsey grins. “I’m not wrong.”
Knox smirks. “Subtlety was never your strong suit.”
She flicks a fry at him. “Please, subtlety is for wimps.”
That pulls a quiet laugh out of me, and damn, it feels good to laugh.
Knox sobers first. “Listen, man. You can’t go into that courtroom ready to throw punches. That’s exactly what they’ll expect—a hot-headed coach trying to play hero. You’ve got to look calm, strong. The guy who builds a home, not one that could break it.”
I nod, letting that sink in. He’s right. My instincts want to swing, to protect, to tear down anyone who threatens what’smine—but this isn’t the field. This is real life. And real life requires a different kind of strength.
Brynn reaches across the table, her hand resting on my arm. “She’s scared, Cam. You being calm is the one thing keeping her from falling apart.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “I can do that for her.”
Kinsey smirks. “Good. Because if you show up to court ready to brawl, I’ll personally tackle you. Might be rusty, but I bet I’ve still got the form.”
Knox chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re terrifying.”
“Thank you,” she says sweetly, stealing his fry.
The laughter fades into a comfortable quiet. For a second, it feels normal—just friends, food, and familiar noise.
But when I step outside later, the air smells like rain and asphalt, and my phone buzzes with a text from Kate:
Kate:
Evie’s asleep. I’m still working on the witness list. You okay?
I stare at the screen for a long second before typing back:
Me:
Yeah. Just wanted you to know—I’ve got you. Both of you.
Kate:
Love you, Wells.
Me:
Love you more, Katie.I’ll be home in a few.
Kate’s still at the kitchen table when I walk into the house, her laptop open, surrounded by papers, highlighters, and an untouched cup of tea that’s gone cold. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts, hair twisted up in a messy knot.
