“You're not charity. I have the resources to help. So I'm helping.” I reached over and took his hand, lacing our fingers together even though he was still tense. “You can pay me back whenever you want. Or never. Either way is fine.”
“It's not fine?—”
“Soren.” I waited until he looked at me. “Your siblings matter to me too. Talia and Micah and Poppy—they're good people who deserve to stay together and not get dragged back into that fucking mess. So this isn't just about you. It's about all of you.”
His eyes went shiny, and he blinked hard like he was trying to hold back tears. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
“I hate needing help. I hate that I can't fix this myself. I hate that you're right about all of it.”
“I know,” I said again, and tugged him closer until he came. He buried his face against my neck and I held him there, one hand rubbing slow circles on his back while he breathed through whatever the fuck he was feeling.
We sat like that for a while, the ocean loud through the open windows, and eventually he pulled back enough to look at me.
“When's the meeting?” he asked quietly.
“Two hours. Leroy's office downtown.”
“Okay.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay. Let's go.”
Leroy's officewas in a building that looked like it specialized in being unremarkable—gray exterior, functional lobby, the kind of place you went when you needed results instead of flash. We took the elevator to the third floor and walked into a waiting room that smelled like coffee and old carpet.
Leroy was already there, standing near the window with his arms crossed. When he saw us, he nodded and gestured toward a door marked as a conference room.
“The lawyer's waiting,” he said. “Name's Sarah Reeves. She's good. Specializes in family law and custody cases.”
“Thanks for setting this up,” I said.
“You're paying me enough. It's the least I can do.” He looked at Soren.
The lawyer was waiting at the conference table with a folder open in front of her and a legal pad covered in notes. She stood when we walked in, extending a hand first to me and then to Soren.
“Sarah Reeves,” she said. Her handshake was firm, her expression professional but warm. “I've been reviewing the documentation Mr. Donnelly provided, and I think we have a strong case.”
Soren sat down heavily in one of the chairs, and I took the seat next to him. Leroy stayed standing near the door, arms still crossed, watching everything with that cop intensity that probably made most people nervous.
“Walk me through it,” Soren said, and his voice was steadier than I'd expected.
Reeves nodded and pulled out a stack of papers. “Your parents are claiming they want to regain custody of Poppy based on allegations that you're an unfit guardian. The specific claims include financial instability, inadequate living conditions, and—” She paused, glancing at Soren with something like sympathy. “—mental health concerns that make you a danger to yourself and others.”
“Fuck,” Soren breathed.
“They're reaching,” Reeves said firmly. “And we can prove it. You've been Poppy's legal guardian for how long?”
“Thirteen years.”
“And in that time, has Child Protective Services ever been called? Have there been any complaints about her care or living situation?”
“No.”
“Good. That works in our favor.” She made a note on her legal pad. “We'll need documentation of your financial situation, proof of stable housing, and character references from people who can speak to your ability to provide care. Teachers, neighbors, anyone who interacts regularly with Poppy and can testify that she's well-cared-for.”
“I can get that,” Soren said.
“The mental health angle is trickier,” Reeves continued, and I felt Soren tense beside me. “But it's also where they've overplayed their hand. Depression and suicidal ideation don't automatically make someone an unfit parent or guardian. What matters is that you're actively managing your mental health and that Poppy is safe and thriving.”
“I am managing it,” Soren said quietly. “I've been in therapy. I have a safety plan. And Poppy's doing great in school. She's got friends, she's involved in shit, she's—she's happy.”
