“I just want her to know she doesn’t have to take all this on by herself,” I say quietly. “Don’t make fun of me, but I want to be the guy who stands up.”
Knox’s tone softens. “We poke at each other, but I would never make fun of that. You’re a good man, Cam. Just be consistent. Show up, but give her the space to see that even when she pushes you away, you’ll still be there.”
I nod. “That’s the plan.”
He claps a hand on my back before he walks to the bleachers and sits beside Brynn. I shake off my small spiral and grab the whistle around my neck to call the kids in.
Practice wraps up in the usual blur of juice boxes and high-fives. Evie hugs my leg, juice spots on her shirt. “Bye, Coach Wells! I’m gonna practice my swing tomorrow!”
I grin. “Atta girl. You’ll be hitting home runs in no time.”
As they head toward the parking lot, Brynn leans into Knox’s side. Kate glances back once—quick, almost shy—and for a moment, the world narrows down to her and that look.
I wave, “Bye, Katie.”
“Bye, Wells.”
Chapter thirteen
Kate
I’m sitting across from a polished walnut desk, hands clasped so tightly my knuckles ache. Knox’s friend, Matthew Graham, family law out of Roanoke, agreed to take my case and now he sits, studying the stack of documents in front of him, flipping pages with a calm efficiency I wish I felt.
When he looks up, his tone is polite. “Ms. Prescott, I’ve gone through everything you sent over. School records, medical files, financials, the petition itself. Based on what I’m seeing, you have a strong foundation for maintaining primary custody.”
Hope rises in my chest.
“That said, there are challenges we need to prepare for.”
Of course there are.
He adjusts his glasses, pen resting between his fingers. “Daniel presents well on paper. Married. Stable household. Two incomes. His father’s influence won’t go unnoticed by the court. His wife doesn’t have children, so they may argue increased availability and support.”
“Support,” I echo, forcing my voice not to snap. “He sends the minimum every month. He doesn’t know her bedtime routine, or the way she cries after nightmares, or how she lines up her crayons in color order. He doesn’t know anything beyond a number on a check.”
Matthew nods once, expression sympathetic but professional. “I agree. But legal strategy hinges on more than who is the better parent—it hinges on what can be proven. Judges take financial stability and re-engagement efforts seriously, even when that return comes late.”
My stomach knots. “So what does that mean for us?”
“It means,” he says, leaning back slightly, “we center our case on what Evie knows. Her home. Her routines. Her emotional safety. Continuity is your strongest argument. You’ve been her primary caregiver since birth, and you’ve provided a consistent, nurturing environment. That matters.”
He taps the stack of documents gently, no rush, just certainty. “Let me walk you through how these cases normally progress, timeline included, so you know what to expect.”
Normally. As if Daniel resurfacing after years of absence should fall under anything resemblingnormal.
I clear my throat, voice softer than I intend. “Thank you for making time for this. I know you’re only here because Knox asked.”
His mouth lifts, faint but genuine. “Knox rarely calls in favors. For you, he didn’t hesitate. So we’re going to take this seriously—and we’re going to fight to make sure this ends in Evie’s best interest.”
He folds his hands on the desk. “The court will require mediation. It’s basically a guided conversation with a trained mediator. You, Daniel, and the mediator sit down in a private room—not a courtroom—and try to work out a parenting plan yourselves. No witnesses, no judge deciding your fate from a bench.” He gives a small shrug. “Most cases settle there. It’s calmer, quicker, cheaper, and frankly—better for kids.”
I nod slowly. “So…we’d talk it out first.”
“Yes,” he says. “That’s the goal. Mediation gives parents the chance to shape the arrangement instead of having a stranger do it for them.”
I sit with that for a moment, anxiety buzzing beneath my ribs. Talking it out with Daniel feels impossible. But at least this sounds…structured and manageable. Not a courtroom battle.
He must see the worry on my face because his voice softens. “This is the least confrontational starting point. We hope to resolve things there.”
