“You’re not going to find out, Katie. I’m always here for you. Call me again if you need me. Doesn’t matter when.”
She exhales softly on the other end—a sound that tells me she’s finally settling.
“Goodnight, Cam.”
“Night, Katie.”
The call ends. The room goes still.
I sit there holding the phone like it’s still connecting us somehow. She’s only a few streets away, probably standing in her kitchen staring at paperwork that should’ve never been handed to her in the first place. I picture her at the counter, hands braced, trying not to break. Trying not to make noise. Trying to carry everything on her own shoulders because that’s the only way she’s ever known how to do it.
And every part of me wants to drive over there. Not to fix anything. Not to fight her battles. Just to sit across from her at that table.
She might not want to admit it, but she reached for me. And God help me, I’d reach back every time.
Chapter eleven
Kate
It’s Thursday afternoon, and I know the hold music for three different law offices by heart. It loops in my head, bright and chirpy in a way that frays every nerve I’ve got left. I haven’t really slept since the papers were handed to me. Two days blurred together—consultations, panic spirals, late-night research that only made things worse. Half the attorneys I reached were booked solid. The others wanted retainers I couldn’t touch even if I liquidated everything I own.
Every time I find someone who might help, I look at Evie’s photo on my desk and feel the floor in my life tilt. I’ve been functioning—shelving returns, running story hour, smiling for patrons—but all of it feels painted over.
The front door opens, and I look up. Brynn strides in, sun-kissed and glowing like she swallowed the Caribbean whole.
“Look at you,” I say, forcing warmth into my voice. “You’re radiant. That’s what two weeks of sand and zero responsibilities does to a person, huh?”
She grins, leaning over the counter. “That, and having a husband who carries me and every suitcase.”
I laugh with her, but the sound feels thin. “Married life suits you.”
“It really does.” She studies me more closely, her smile softening. “What about you? How have things been here?”
I huff out a sigh. “Just tired.”
Her posture shifts. “Work tired or something’s wrong tired?”
I hesitantly sort returns, buying myself a few seconds. “Little of both.”
“Kate,” she coaxes.
I stare at the slips in front of me.
“Kate,” Brynn repeats, quieter.
I inhale. “I got served.”
Her expression collapses. “From who? Why?”
I swallow, throat tightening. “Evie’s dad filed for joint custody.”
Shock clears her face of everything else. “What? You never even told me—” She stops. “I don’t know who he is.”
“No one does,” I whisper. “I wanted it to stay that way. But with this, it will be hard to keep it a secret any longer.”
She waits—not pushing, holding space like she’s offering a safe place to land.
“Her father is Daniel McMichael,” I say, voice barely there. “The mayor’s son.”
