The Sound of Forever

Chapter 57

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Julianna

Not sure what Keane and his people did, but what I thought would become a big problem, a bomb that could destroy Rayne’s life, became nothing. Well, not really nothing. It did change things, but not in the way I thought when Hank Nichols came to my door.

It has been two weeks since we received the DNA test results confirming that Rayne was, in fact, related to the Nichols family. Two weeks of processing a truth that reshaped everything I thought we knew about Rayne’s origins. They aren’t fighting me for custody. Steve’s mother, Anne Nichols, had made that abundantly clear during our last meeting.

“We’re not here to take her from you, Julianna,” Anne had said, her voice steady but laced with emotion. “We just . . . we just want to know her, give her a family—and of course make you part of it too. Steve would have wanted that.”

Apparently, Steve had been desperate to have a child before he died. He wanted to leave a legacy. Anne had explained it as delicately as she could, but the implication was clear: Steve and Elena hadn’t been in love. They hadn’t been in a relationship. They had merely shared a mutual desire to bring a child into the world. Then Elena, overwhelmed and afraid, had fled.

“She was probably terrified we’d try to take the baby from her,” Anne had admitted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong to think that. Back then, I was so angry, so desperate to hold on to a piece of Steve. I might have done anything. But now . . . now, I just want to be part of her life. If you’ll let us.”

The idea of sharing Rayne, even in the smallest way, was terrifying. But how could I deny her the chance to know part of her family, especially when they were approaching this with such care? I thought of my own childhood, the fractured pieces of family I’d let slip away. I wish I had stayed in touch with my paternal grandparents after my parents divorced. Though I hated how my parents had handled their separation, now that my father and I were trying to mend our relationship, I understood more. That understanding was helping me cope with Rayne’s current situation.

I sit at the kitchen table, a stack of custody agreements, visitation schedules, and other legal documents spread out before me. The lawyer Keane hired drafted them carefully, each clause and stipulation designed to protect Rayne’s interests. Though the Nichols family aren’t fighting me, we all agreed that having everything in writing was the safest option. Still, the burden of the decision I’m about to make presses down on me, and the thought of sharing my niece—even in small increments—is unsettling.

Keane walks in, his steps quiet but purposeful. He carries a mug of coffee in one hand and a plate of toast in the other. Setting them down in front of me, he pulls out a chair and sits beside me.

“You had breakfast already?” he asks, his tone gentle. “You’ve been here since . . . well, I really don’t know.”

“I . . . I will soon,” I answer absently, my eyes still on the documents.

“You’ve been staring at those papers since yesterday,” he says, leaning back slightly to get a better look at me. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I sigh, pushing the papers away as frustration bubbled to the surface. “I’m just . . . trying to wrap my head around all of this. It’s a lot to take in. They want summers with her, and what if she chooses to move in with them?”

Keane reaches out, his hand covering mine. His touch is warm, his thumb tracing a calming pattern over my knuckles. “It is a lot,” he agrees. “But it’s not the entire summer. It’s three weeks. And they want holidays, but they’re inviting you to come along. Remember, they’re including you, your father, and anyone in the Valencia family.”

A faint smile tugs at my lips. This man deserves a prize. He’s been my anchor through all of this, the one who saw the logic in everything that was happening. He’s been a part of every meeting with the Nichols family, listened to every concern I voiced, and reminded me, time and again, that I’m doing a good job.

“Listen, the truth is, if they do anything to mess this up, the custody agreement is dissolved, and they won’t be allowed to see her,” he says, his voice firm.

“That simple?” I frown, skeptical.

He shrugs with a confidence I wish I had right now. “They weren’t looking for a fight, but I’ll admit we warned them.”

I glance at the clock, the minutes ticking closer to the scheduled call. “They’re supposed to call in a few minutes to finalize the visitation schedule.”

“You want me to stay?” he asks, his gaze searching mine.

“Yeah,” I whisper, wondering if I should take a bite or his toast, or wait until I’m sure I’m not going to lose the little food I have in my stomach because the wait is making me too anxious. “I think I’d like that. Thank you for being with me.”

He leans in, his lips brushing my temple with a tenderness that melts me in place and grounds me all at once. “Always,” he murmurs.

The phone buzzes right on time. Our lawyers—mine and the Nichols’—join the line, and Anne’s voice greets us as we dive into the details. The logistics of sharing my niece, Rayne, with people I just met and barely trust.

The first order of business is the introduction to Rayne, how we’ll handle everything for the time being. At the beginning it’ll be just twice-a-month visits at a local park. No overnight stays, no taking her out of my sight. Just enough to let them try to build a relationship without shattering her fragile sense of safety. Eventually, we’ll follow the schedule they sent me: holidays, summers, birthdays.

It feels like giving away pieces of her heart that should only belong to me. But Rayne has this bottomless capacity for love, and even as I cling to her, I know I can’t be selfish.

I just hope I’m strong enough to let go easily.

“Thank you, Julianna,” Anne says as the call wraps up. “For giving us this chance. We’ll do everything we can to make this as smooth as possible for everyone.”

After hanging up, I lean back in my chair, letting out a long breath. “Well, that’s done.”

Keane reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You okay?”

“I think so,” I say honestly. “It’s just . . . a lot to process. But I think it’s the right thing to do.”

He nods, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of my hand. “You’re doing an amazing job, Jules. I know it’s not easy, but Rayne’s lucky to have you.”

“She’s lucky to have you, too,” I confess. He’s been here for us through almost everything since . . . since we moved here. It’s because of him that Rayne started opening up to me, started trusting me again. I swallow hard, my heart full with emotions I can’t put into words. “You’ve been . . . incredible through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re giving me too much credit,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. Before I can argue, his strong hands find my waist, pulling me effortlessly onto his lap.

His fingers trail up my back, slow and deliberate, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He cups the side of my neck, his thumb brushing the curve of my jaw, tilting my face toward him.

“I mean it,” he continues, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down my spine. “When I say I’ll do anything for you, I mean it.”

His mouth finds the spot just below my ear, pressing a kiss that’s soft and teasing before his teeth graze my skin. A loud gasp escapes me, and I can feel his smile against my neck.

His hand slips under the hem of my shirt, his fingers brushing over my bare skin, warm and possessive. The slow drag of his palm up my side has my breath faltering, my heart pounding in a rhythm that matches the way his lips move along my throat.

“Tell me you know that,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice so low it’s barely audible. “You know I’ll do anything for you, even giving you my life.”

Before I can answer, the sound of a loud crash echoes from the other room, followed by Rayne’s unmistakable giggle.

“Uh-oh,” he says, his lips pulling into a grin against my neck.

I groan, my forehead dropping to his shoulder as I try to catch my breath. “What are the odds the ceiling’s still intact?”

His hand stills against my skin, and he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, a devilish smirk spreading across his face. “Let me go and check.”