Page 41 of Cut Off
Gwen flashes the judge a raised brow. “I think it’s clear why my daughter didn’t want Eli raised by someone with that background.”
My cheeks burn red-hot. I want to yell. I want to throw something. Zoe squeezes my knee, just hard enough to keep me from losing it.
Gwen keeps swinging. “Rosie left Idaho to protect her son. She wanted a quiet life for him. She worked multiple jobs, volunteered at her church, and made sure Eli had everything he needed. My sole concern now is that his father, a man who never even knew about him—never supported him, nevervisited, never even tried to contact my daughter—is suddenly being allowed to raise him. I want to be clear: I don’t believe that’s what Rosie would’ve wanted.”
Ms. Hernandez scratches something on her notepad. The judge looks at me with this world-weary sigh, like he’s expecting I’ll explode right here and save him the trouble of making a decision.
I don’t explode. I lock my jaw, stare at my hands, and wait. Zoe’s palm is still on my knee, maybe the only thing tethering me to the earth.
Finally, the judge turns to me, eyebrow up. “Mr. Holt?”
I wait a beat until my voice is even. “May I speak candidly, Your Honor?”
He nods, looking relieved. “Please do.”
I take a breath. In my head, I see Rosie at twenty—wild, brilliant, always on the edge of burning out. I see her mother at their kitchen table, picking at everything, turning every conversation into a blowout fight.
“Rosie didn’t leave me because I was unsafe,” I say. “She left because she was scared. Not of me—of the spotlight. Of what being attached to a hockey player would mean for her and her son. She hated the attention. Hated social media, hated reporters, hated how a normal day could become a circus because of my job.”
I look around the room, willing someone, anyone, to fucking hear me. “Rosie was clear in her will. She wanted Eli with his father if anything happened to her. She never told me, which I wish every day she had, but the minute I found out, I did everything in my power to step up.”
Gwen sighs.
I push through. “If Eli’s mother was so afraid of me, why would she put my name in her will? Why would she make me guardian?”
Gwen’s eyes narrow. “Because she wanted to make sure Eli would be taken care of financially. She never wanted him living with Jonah Holt, Your Honor.”
“For reasons I already addressed.” It takes all I have to keep my voice even.
Zoe’s fingers lace with mine, and now I’m not even pretending not to need the help.
“And as for Ms. Anders?” I glance at her, unable to hide the edge in my voice. “She’s the reason Rosie wanted out of Idaho. I won’t get into detail unless I have to, but growing up in that house broke Rosie. She spent her whole adult life trying to undo what happened there. That’s not what I want for Eli. That’s not what Rosie wanted for him either.”
The air shifts in the room—maybe a little respect from the judge, maybe just surprise that the big dumb jock knows how to string two sentences together.
Ms. Hernandez nods, her eyes saying, good.
The judge shuffles his papers again. “Ms. Anders, Mr. Holt, thank you both. I know these matters are difficult.”
He goes into lawyer mode, talking about best interests, continuity, blah, blah, blah. My pulse is in my throat, waiting for the hammer to fall.
“In light of these statements… and the petition from Ms. Anders… I have to conclude that there is enough of a material dispute to warrant a full hearing on permanent custody,” he says finally. “Mr. Holt, you will maintain temporary custody for the next three weeks. We’ll set a date for the formal hearing, and at that point, I’ll consider additional evidence and testimony from all parties.”
All the adrenaline drains out of me and leaves nothing but this hollow, burning cold.
Zoe, meanwhile, is… fuck, I don’t even know what. Braced. Ready to go five rounds with anyone in this room. She’s got the news producer face on, like she’s about to hit someone with a curveball question.
Gwen stands up, smooths her suit, and gives the judge this half-curtsy. “Thank you, Your Honor.” She heads out without looking back.
Ms. Hernandez gives the judge a “will do” expression and gestures for us to follow her. “We’re done here, Mr. Holt.”
We walk in silence, and the courthouse hallway feels colder. Zoe hasn’t let go of my hand.
Once we’re outside into the bright, breezy day, Ms. Hernandez walks away, and Zoe yanks me around a corner. “Don’t worry,” she says before I can even open my mouth. “You won’t lose Eli. Not a chance.”
I breathe in, sharp and fast, like the wind’s been knocked out of me. Zoe puts her arms around me—tight, the way you hug someone who’s about to come apart.
For a beat, all the fight goes out of me. I just stand there, shivering in my suit, smelling her hair that soothes me. Focusing on how much I need her body against mine.
