The sight of her hits me dead center. Beautiful, focused, exhausted, stubborn as hell.
“Hey,” I say quietly, setting my keys on the counter.
She looks up, eyes tired but softening when she sees me. “You’re back.”
“Knox wanted to talk about practice schedules.” I cross the room, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Everyone says hi and they miss you. You should’ve gone to bed.”
She gives me that look—the one that meansdon’t tell me what to do.“Couldn’t sleep. I’ve been working on my statement for the hearing.”
My jaw tightens. “You’ve been at this since dinner.”
“I know,” she says, rubbing her temple. “It’s just...I want it to sound right, Cam. The judge has to believe me. That Evie’s safe right here, where she should be.”
I drop into the chair beside her, resting an arm on the back of hers. “Let me read it.”
She hesitates, then slides the paper over. I skim through the lines, the words are too formal, too careful. It reads like a resume, not a description of her and Evie’s life.
“It’s good,” I tell her honestly, “but it’s not you.”
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to sound perfect. You don’t need to.” I set the paper down, turning to face her. “Tell them the truth. Tell them how you fall asleep with Evie’s drawings on your nightstand. How she makes you laugh so hard you forget to breathe. How Evie never wants for anything. That’s the mother you are. That’s what’s real.”
Her throat works around a quiet breath. “Do you think that will be enough to win, though?”
“I like to hope it will,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I think it’s worth a try.”
She looks at me for a long second, something soft breaking in her eyes. “How did I get this lucky?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “I could ask you the same thing.”
A shy smile spreads on her lips as she goes back to writing, the pen moving slower now, the words coming easier. I stay beside her, reading over her shoulder, catching errors and refilling her tea.
After a while, her handwriting trails off. The pen slips from her fingers, her head tipping toward my shoulder. I slide the papers into her folder, careful not to wake her, and press a kiss to her hair.
Evie’s nightlight glows faintly down the hall, the soft whir of the A/C filling the quiet. Kate’s eyes start to flutter, her chin dipping toward her chest. “Come on, Katie,” I say, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Bed.”
She doesn’t argue—just lets me help her to her feet, her body leaning into mine. In the bedroom, she reaches for the hem of her shirt, but her hands are clumsy. I step in gently, sliding the fabric up and over her head. She gives me a small, tired smile.
“Arms up,” I say softly.
She obeys without protest, and I guide her out of the rest of her clothes with slow, careful movements. I pull her sleep shirt over her head, smoothing it down before she crawls into bed.
When she’s settled, I strip down and slide under the sheets. I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. She tucks her head under my chin, body relaxing inch by inch as the weight of the day finally releases its hold.
And lying there with her molded against me, all I can think is that she’s the strongest damn person I’ve ever known. And I’ll spend my whole life making sure I’m the man that deserves to stand by her side.
Chapter fifty-four
Cam
The alarm goes off before sunrise, but I’m already awake.
The past couple of weeks have rushed by with back to school shopping, meetings with Kate’s lawyers, and the end of T-ball season. Kate and I have a rhythm now. She makes coffee, I make breakfast. I wash clothes, she folds them. Evenings are filled with animated movies and Evie’s newfound love of sharks.
This morning though, the house is quiet, gray morning light spilling across the kitchen floor. Rain taps the windowpanes as I move through the motions—drink my coffee, flip the pancakes, try to keep everything feeling normal when nothing about today is.
Kate comes down the hall barefoot, hair damp from the shower, wearing the navy dress she picked out days ago and changed her mind about twice this morning. Her hands tremble just enough for me to notice.
