“I don’t care what you call it. She. Was. Alone.”
Jenna finally looks up and for a split second I see something beyond mere professional annoyance in her eyes. Then she rolls her eyes again.
“And so, you decided to break the law?”
“I decided not to leave my kid alone, crying and puking.”
Silence. Her fingers hover over the keyboard before stopping. She lifts her head. “She threw up?”
I nod.
“And cried so hard she couldn’t breathe?”
Another nod.
Her jaw twitches but she types again. “How long was she alone? How did she get hurt?”
“I don’t know exactly.” I hate admitting it. “Longer than she should’ve been. I was parking in front of my ex’s house, and she vanished through the back door. I went in when I saw Livy crying in the kitchen.”
“That’s not a sufficient answer.”
“An hour? Maybe more. She told me she was hungry, tried to make a sandwich, and cut her hand.”
I lift her hand—she’s still clutching my phone—but lets me show it. Jenna pulls out her phone and photographs the now roughly healed cut. I’d put on a Band-Aid, but it’s gone missing somewhere.
“Okay,” she says, leaning back. “Let’s stop arguing morality.”
I exhale. “Good.”
“And let’s focus on the legal disaster.”
I blink.
“You violated a custody order because you removed the child from her mother’s home without her consent.” A pause. “And you haven’t returned her, nor told her mother where her daughter is.”
“And I’m not going to.”
She studies me—that same look that makes me nervous, even though I usually fear nothing.
“Then,” she says slowly. “We have to reinvent the narrative.”
“How?”
A barely perceptible twitch at her lip. “If you listen to me this time, I might have an idea.”
I nod too quickly. Jenna’s the only one with real power here. Ethan was right: she’s the best and she’s never lost a case. Even if she insults or scolds me, I trust her completely. And to be frank, I don’t know anything about the law. What I can and can’t do. I need Jenna.
“Good,” she says, typing all over again. “We’ll file a temporary restraining order for child endangerment and expedite everything. I’ll send our evidence to the police and push this through. I’ll contact Child Protective Services and file for an emergency custody petition.”
My heart drops straight into my shoes. “Child services?”
“Relax,” she says, not even looking up from her laptop, like my panic is just background noise. “They’re not the bad guys. They’re there to help kids and families—and we need them for our case. We want an allowance to keep Livy as soon as possible, so we have to try all we’ve got. One bonus is that Livy wants to stay with you. She’s been neglected and put in danger by her own mother, which makes the case immediate. So, we’re hoping to get a temporary placement agreement fast.”
“How fast?”
“If I’m any good?” Her emerald eyes meet mine. “Today.”
I stare. “You’re kidding.”
