"I have a delivery from the Domestic Relations Court." He holds the clipboard out with a pen. "I need your signature confirming receipt."
I sign on the line as my mind reels over this. I got the notification from Derek's lawyer that he was going to pursue custody and that trial would be in late July. I have no idea what this could be, but I take the envelope and thank him. He walks back to his car as I close the door and stand in the hallway, turning the envelope over in my hands. My gut is already churning, knowing this is bad news. I pull the documents out and read the first page.
Derek wants an emergency custody hearing in three weeks—not late July like he said. He wants temporary sole custody of Ethan effective immediately, pending the July court date. The filing references the CPS home visit, claiming that I'm emotionally unstable and unable to provide a safe environment for my son.
Mrs. Finch walked through every room in this house and told me she had zero concerns. CPS cleared me. Why is Derek using the fact that they showed up at all as proof that something must be wrong? He's twisting the investigation he manufactured into some messed-up evidence.
This can't be happening. I did nothing wrong, and his case has no merit. I want to believe it'd be thrown out by a magistrate, but he's buddies with all of them. I don't put it past him to have paid them off just to take my kid away from me.
I lean against the wall feeling like I might pass out. It's too much all at once and I'm not sure how to process it at all. I'm up against a Goliath but I have no slingshot or stones. I'm alone and I'm defenseless, and half of this is Caleb's fault for feeding Derek information he never had. No one knew I was on those medications until Caleb told them.
Looking out the side window, I see Caleb in his driveway hosing his truck down, and I have had enough. I've been pleasant and happy this entire time, trying not to go off on him or make things worse. But my ability to stay bubbly and happy has run dry. I am angry and I want this fixed. I stomp out the front door, slamming it behind me before I march across my lawn to his driveway.
"You wanted to fix this?" I hold the papers out to him as he drops the hose and dries his hands on his jeans. "Then fix this."
He takes them from my hand and reads the first page, his eyes tracking down the document. His jaw tightens, pulling the muscles in his neck taut as he flips to the second page, then the third. When he finishes, he's scowling, seeming just as angry as I am.
"Emergency custody?" he asks quietly. "How can he do this?"
"He told them CPS was investigating. That's all they care about." My throat constricts as I try to fight back the emotion, but I can't. A tear rises and then another, and my cheeks burn with rage. "God, I’m so angry!"
"Okay, but the fact that they showed up doesn't prove anything and his lawyer knows it." Caleb's eyes are so soft, like he's hurting for me, but I'm so mad right now, I don't believe it.
"You don't know him, Caleb. He's not doing things by the book." I press my hand over my mouth, hating that I'm doing this out here where the whole neighborhood could see, but I've held it together for too long. My body just quits.
Caleb pulls me into his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head. I let myself melt into him, curling into his chest where I feel safe. It doesn’t erase what he did, but I have no one else to go to, and right now, I feel like my world is falling apart. Derek just can't do this. Someone has to stop him.
When I lift my head, his hand slides to the side of my face, clearing the tears off my cheek with his thumb. He looks down at me with a pained expression, and I'm so tired and scared and stupidly grateful that he's standing here that I stop thinking. I rise up and press my mouth against his hastily, and he kisses me back.
At first he goes rigid, like he's shocked, but then he warms to it and kisses me back, almost hesitantly. It feels like he's trying to test whether this is actually happening, and all I know is I have to feel something other than fear.
I push him, backing him up as we continue kissing, until we're inside his garage where he smacks the button, lowering the garage door and plunging us into shadow.
"Liv, we don't have to?—"
"Shut up and kiss me, idiot," I grumble, which he doesn't protest.
Caleb's hands slide down my back, pulling me flush against him while we kiss, and I tug desperately at his shirt, bunching the fabric in my fists as I yank it upward. He breaks away just enough to help me pull it over his head, then tosses it behind us as my palms press flat against his bare chest, feeling the way his muscles shift under my touch. He reaches for my shirt next, dragging it slowly up my body, so I lift my arms and let him slide it off.
He kisses me again, deeper this time as his hands explore my sides. I reach behind myself and unhook my bra, letting the straps fall down my arms before I drop it to the floor. His hands move up immediately, cupping and groping my chest. I hiss as the chill from his palms closes around my flesh and he groans. His hands are like ice from that hose water.
"God, I never thought you'd want me again," he murmurs against my mouth. The stubble on his chin scrapes over mine, making goosebumps rise on my arms and the back of my neck. It’s intoxicating.
I work on his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle until it finally opens; then I push his jeans down over his hips, taking his boxers with them. After toeing off his boots, he kicks them off to the side along with his jeans and boxers. Then his fingers hook into the waistband of my pants and underwear, pulling them down together. I lift my hips to help him, and he slides everything down my legs until I kick them away, not caring where they land.
Caleb grips my waist and lifts me onto the tool bench. My arm swings wildly, knocking into a pile of tools. Wrenches, sockets, and a hammer crash loudly onto the concrete floor as he steps between my spread legs right away.
"God, Liv," he growls, and it makes me shudder. I missed this, and I missed him. And though I'm mad as hell, I don't want to stay mad. I just want to feel, and right now, I want to feel him.
"Don't stop touching me," I whisper back, then kiss him again. I’m so greedy and hungry for him, my hands going everywhere, trying to touch every inch of his body.
His palms grind over my chest, groping and rubbing while we kiss, and I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him in tight. The hard planes of his muscles only turn me on more. My core clenches and aches for release. He groans softly into my mouth and grips my ass, lifting me slightly as he adjusts me and pulls me closer, making more tools shift and fall with another loud clatter.
He kisses along my jaw for a moment before returning to my lips. "Like this?" he asks between breaths. "Right here in my garage?"
"Yeah, right here," I answer, running my nails down his back. He shivers, so I do it again and he groans. I love hearing how I please him and make him feel good.
His dick is right there against me, pressing between my legs, and I shift my hips just enough that the head slips inside. My body opens around him, greedy for it even though my head is still a mess. He pushes in until he’s buried all the way and I feel his hips flush against mine. My walls squeeze around him, holding on like they don’t want to let go.
