Her chin wobbles, and another tear slips loose. “He made it sound like…like the judge might agree with him.”
The anger rises again—but I keep my hands gentle. “The judge will see a woman who loves her daughter. Who provides for her. Who protects her. Who has a stable home and a community behind her.” I bring my forehead to hers. “And who has me.”
She looks down at her hand, nodding. Her eyes close, a soft sob slipping out as she leans into me fully this time. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, feeling every tremor of her body, every breath that shakes loose from her ribs.
Inside, my thoughts are a storm—protective, unfiltered. I’m imagining going after Daniel. Imagining grabbing him by the collar and explaining that if he wants to suddenly be involved, then he starts with respect. Imagining telling him that if he hurts her again, I won’t be calm next time.
But all of that stays inside me, because right now she doesn’t need that. She needs calm. She needs arms around her and she needs someone to remind her she’s not doing this alone.
Chapter thirty-eight
Cam
Sharing a shower with Kate is quickly becoming my favorite way to begin the day. We stand under the water, steam curling around us as water beads on her shoulders. It’s a calm, quiet way to share time, to share space without needing words. It’s one of the many reasons I’ve been staying here most nights. These days I just stop by my place to check on things and grab more clothes to bring over.
Kate’s back is against my chest, her head tilted back slightly as I run my fingers through her hair, rinsing out the last of the conditioner. She makes a soft, content sound, and it hits me how easy this feels.
When I shut off the water, she hands me a towel, smiling. “You realize this means you’re officially in the morning routine now.”
I grin, the towel over my hair. “Guess I’ll have to learn the Prescott system.”
“Oh, you will,” she says, already laughing as she ties her robe. “It’s mostly loud talking and cereal.”
Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen’s alive with it. Evie’s perched at the table, curls wild while trying to tie one shoe and eat toast at the same time. I’m crouched beside her, helping loop the laces while she tells me every detail why Matilda the dinosaur has to go to grandma’s today.
“You got it,” I tell her, double-knotting the bow. “That dino’s going to stay right by your side.”
She beams. “You’re better than Grandma at shoes.”
“Don’t tell her that,” I whisper. “She’ll never forgive me.”
Kate steps up beside me and sets a travel mug on the counter. Coffee with cream and sugar.
“We’re out of creamer,” she says casually, reaching past me for the cabinet. “I added it to the grocery list.”
I glance at her. “You keep a grocery list?”
She gives me a look. “I have a child.”
Fair.
She screws the lid onto the mug and slides it closer. “I’ll probably stop by the store before I pick up Evie this afternoon.”
I take a sip of coffee. “I can do it. I have a couple of free hours around lunch. Give me the list and let me know any specifics.”
She meets my eyes for a beat, then leans in and presses a quick kiss to my mouth.
“Ewww!” Evie yells from the table. “Mom kissed Coach Wells!”
Kate groans. “Evie, eat your breakfast.”
“I saw it!” she sing-songs, kicking her feet.
I laugh. “Next time, we’ll have to hide in the pantry.”
“Guess so,” Kate says, eyes soft and bright all at once.
The morning turns into backpacks and a scramble for the door after that. Outside, I help Evie climb into the car while Kate leans against the open door, arms crossed.
