Page 23 of Against The Tide

“I know,” I tell her as I rip open the envelope.

I only have to read the header of one of the top DC family attorneys to know that my hope has let me down once again.

Hope…hope is a fucker. A liar and a thief. And as hard as I try to hold it together as I read through the document, I can’t.

“He’s going to take her away from me,” I whisper to myself. It’s loud enough that Callie hears and takes the letter from me. “I didn’t kidnap my own daughter. I took her away because he hurt me. He hurt me in front of her, and I… He said he would kill me, Callie.”

She’s on her feet and pulling her cell from her pocket in a flash. “We’re going to fix this.”

I hear what she’s saying, and stupid hope has me almost believing her until the pale lines on my finger glare up at me, and I realize that I’m stuck. I’m never going to be free of Carl and his crap. And while it’s a great notion that everything will work out and it will be okay…he’s still the one calling the shots.

“Rowan’s going to talk to Alison. I need to take a photo of the letter and send it to him so she can read it.”

“Alison?”

“She works for Northward Tactical Ops, and Rowan said she’s at your disposal.” Pausing in front of me, she gives me a wicked grin. “Trust me, Alison’s great. She’s a kickass attorney, and she knows pretty much everything about everything, and if she doesn’t, she knows someone who does. Point is, we’re going to nip this shit in the bud stat.”

“God, Callie, you don’t need to do that. Mike already said that he’ll help me with whatever I need. I feel terrible enough for intruding into your home and family.”

“Shut up!” She knocks my knee with her foot. “You’re here because we’re friends and I want to help you. It’s been a while since I got to stick it to someone or something. I don’t want to lose my touch, so you’re doing me a favor.”

Trust her to find a way of making me smile right now. If not for any other reason than the certainty that she really will do everything she can to stick it to Carl with me.

“I can’t lose her. She’s my baby, the only good thing to have come out of the last eight years. I can’t let him hurt her.”

“And we’re not going to let any of that happen. We got this. Trust me.”

I nod, even though I’m suffocating at the possibility that if I don’t return to DC with Iris, the authorities that are meant to protect us will rip her from me and hand her to a father that doesn’t even love her.

CHAPTER 8

RHETT

I’m not sure what I’ve just walked into. The house is eerily quiet; none of the kids are running around. The TV is off for once with Rowan and Callie sitting at the table looking through a shit ton of paperwork.

“Come on, Alison!” Callie growls into the phone. “There’s gotta be something else we can do.”

There’s a moment of silence as she listens to whatever Rowan’s company lawyer tells her. It’s clearly not what she wants to hear, but she seems resigned to the fact when she puts the phone down.

“I’m guessing she told you the same thing she told me?” Rowan exhales in frustration.

“You’re not getting divorced, are you? That shit’s messy, and I don’t want to pick sides because Callie wins. Hands down.”

“Not funny.” She levels me with one of her glares before standing to her feet. “We need you to sign a report on Avery’s injuries.”

“Sure. Once she allows me to take a look, I can write you whatever you need.”

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” she asks me the same question Avery asked a few days ago when I last saw her.

“Nope.” I lean back on the breakfast bar, realizing that I’ve spent more time in their home or thinking about their home this week than ever before.

There’s something about Avery that I can’t put my finger on, but I can’t stop thinking about her. About all the things she said the other night, because I do understand some of what she’s going through. Maybe not from her exact perspective, but enough to know that this is the calm before the storm.

“I think I’ve managed to calm her down enough to nap.”

I turn to find Avery standing in the doorway I just came through. Her eyes are red, and the swelling that’s already gone down some looks puffy from tears. She looks almost as tiny as Callie engulfed in the same sweatshirt she was wearing the night that Rowan called me here to look her over. Her bare feet curl as she sags into the doorjamb.

“Alison said that unless we do this formally, we can’t expect a judge to throw out the paternity case. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to, but…”