10. Andy
ANDY
The county courthouse looms like a sinister gargoyle out to get me. The only time I’ve ever been here was to get my passport for the summer vacation that I tagged along with the Calhouns after graduating high school.
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of me trying to pull together the information that Mr. Rupert needed, reschedule my clients for today, and handle my emotions ping ponging from anxiety to worry to doubt through anger at Alex for putting Piper—and me—in this situation all the way through resolve to do what needs to be done.
Luckily, Piper didn’t really notice that her aunt was having a small internal mental break. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything.
I spent most of last night tossing and turning, my brain filtering through the possible scenarios—realistic and outlandish—of what might happen today until I almost drove myself insane.
After emptying the contents of my purse for the metal detector and being directed to my courtroom, I push the heavy door open to the nearly empty space.
Mr. Rupert is sitting at one table, Melinda in the bench behind him. There’s a person sitting at the front and a security-looking guard posted to the side of the room.
Relief whooshes through me at Alex’s absence. Harlan said she posted bail early Sunday morning, and I honestly thought she’d be here today, but I can’t help the nuggets of relief and anger that go to war in my stomach when I don’t see her on the opposite side of the room.
“Andy. Good to see you.” Mr. Rupert calls me to the front with him, and after a friendly supportive smile from Melinda, I take a seat at the table next to him.
“We have a couple of minutes before we start. Do you know if your sister plans on being here?” he asks.
“Last I saw or talked to her, she was sitting in a cell down at the Everette sheriff’s station. Harlan, the sheriff, said that she posted bail on Sunday, but I’m not sure she’s going to show up.”
Whether or not she’ll show up is anyone’s guess.
“Okay. We’ll proceed as if she’s not going to be here. This is just the preliminary hearing to state our case and get emergency custody. We’ll have a couple more hearings depending on how today goes.”
I nod along.
The door to the courtroom opens, and Jedd steps through. Relief hits me like a jackhammer.
He’s wearing a gray henley and jeans with his work boots, and saliva pools in my mouth before I can corral my thoughts.
His chest and biceps strain the material of his shirt in the best way, and I welcome the distraction of ogling the man I’ll never have in lieu of the anxiety I’ve had on a low simmer since dropping Piper off at school this morning.
“Hey, Mischief.” His voice is gruff, and I catch a whiff of his scent as he steps up to the table.
Engines and evergreen. The most comforting scent in the whole world.
I told him he didn’t have to come down here for me this morning. But like usual, the stubborn man didn’t listen.
Thank fricken god.
He turns to Mr. Rupert and offers his hand.
“Hello, sir. I’m Jedd Calhoun,” he says with an easy smile.
They shake, and then the bailiff at the front of the room asks us all to stand for the judge.
The side door to the room opens—presumably the judge’s chambers—and Judge Hamilton steps through. His pressed robe falls in lines so creased they look almost glued in place.
The bailiff announces him, and we all sit while he types on the keyboard of a laptop, probably bringing up the case for review.
The sound of a door opening turns our attention to the back of the court room.
“Dave. Stop.” Alex laughs at the man behind her in an ill-fitting suit. It hangs off his shoulders, and his pants bag around his legs.
Oh god. What now?
Of course she bursts through the door late and as loudly as possible. And who the hell is she with?
Melinda and Mr. Rupert look at Alex, but there’s not enough of an expression on either of their faces for me to get a gauge if they know the dude at her back.
Hamilton grumbles at the interruption, and the guy—Dave—loses the smarmy smile on his face.
“We apologize for being late your honor. There was a hiccup with parking.” He adjusts the lapels of his coat, and Alex smirks at him.
I have an idea of what the hiccup was but shove the gross thought aside.
Is this guy her lawyer?
I get my answer in the next minute when he announces himself as Alex’s counsel, and I’m even more confused, angry, and hurt.
She can’t afford to pay the rent to keep a roof over Piper’s head, but she can shell out the money for a lawyer?
Jedd’s hand squeezes my own, his thumb passing across the back of my knuckles in a comforting gesture.
That more than anything calms me down enough to tune back into the questions Judge Hamilton is peppering Mr. Rupert with.
Mr. Rupert explains some of the technicalities, and I listen as he recounts the instances that Piper’s been placed in my care by the state and when I’ve had her for long periods of time at Alex’s request. He details Alex’s stints in rehab and ends with her most recent drug possession charges that are pending the results of her court trial.
Listening to all of it spelled out and broken down causes the guilt festering in my stomach to curdle. How did Alex and I get here? We shouldn’t be sitting in this sterile room, not looking at each other, while her sins are laid bare before everyone present.
Jedd’s fingers tighten around mine again, and I look at him. He shakes his head, the motion so short that I would have missed it if I wasn’t looking at him. He knows. He always knows what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, and that I’m dangerously close to pulling the plug on this.
His head turns and he mouths Piper’s name to me, and it’s like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head.
I’m not here as Alex’s sister today. I’m here as Piper’s aunt. Piper is what’s important, and Alex’s decisions, bad and otherwise, were her own.
I nod and give Jedd a small smile while squeezing his hand back, letting him know I heard him loud and clear.
Mr. Rupert finishes his explanation of why I would be the better guardian for Piper.
The judge turns to Alex’s side, and her lawyer introduces his argument for Alex to keep custody of Piper.
He uses a lot of technical terms, but the basis of their argument is that Alex is Piper’s mother, and a little bit of relief hits me in the chest.
Alex is Piper’s mother, but Alex and I know firsthand that sometimes “mother” isn’t enough. Our own mother was little more than someone we lived with until we could strike out on our own. I went to one extreme end of the spectrum, while it seems like Alex is following in our mother’s steps.
Though, our mother never lost custody of us—even temporarily. No—she had us so afraid of going into the system that when the cops and CPS workers came around, we kept our heads down and our mouths shut.
Alex’s lawyer—Dave—ends his argument with a request that the case be dismissed and is met with a stony stare from the judge.
Judge Hamilton declines his request and launches into his own series of questions to our lawyers. Were the documents for the case served to all parties—yes they were. Are we willing to mediate the case or explore other dispute resolution options—yes from us, a resounding no from Alex’s lawyer.
That no sinks my heart to my toes. Any hope I had for us working through what’s best for Piper disappears with those two little letters.
Alex’s eyes fill with glossy tears by the time he’s finished. Manipulation is a skill she learned early in life, and she’s honed that craft to a knife’s edge.
Luckily, the judge isn’t here for any of her crap.
Brusquely, he orders Piper to remain in my care, denies Alex visitation—at this time—and sets the next court date after mandating weekly drug tests for Alex and a parenting course for her to complete.
A look of incredulity covers her face, and her temper ignites in her gaze.
“That’s bullshit,” she barks.
Judge Hamilton’s eyes widen as his eyebrows climb his forehead. “Young lady. While you may think that my ruling is bullshit, it’s also final. I’ll see you back here in a month’s time.” He smacks his gavel with a clang, then stands and leaves the room.
It’s likely she thought that she’d come in and shed a few tears and the courts would just hand Piper back to her.
But with Melinda’s case notes, and her recommendation that Piper stay with me coupled with the information I gave Mr. Rupert, she’s realizing that getting Piper back is going to be harder than she thought.
Mr. Rupert gestures for me and Jedd to exit the courtroom. Alex doesn’t even look at me as we pass, and I know better than to say anything to her after she essentially lost her first volley to get the case dismissed.
Once we’re out in the hall, Mr. Rupert says, “That went better than expected.”
“How so?” I ask through a throat lined with lead.
“I thought the judge would order visitation. But I think the pending charges against Ms. Donovan made him hold off from that.”
“What happens next?” My voice breaks on the last word.
“Now we wait for the results of the drug test and parenting class. If she doesn’t complete them or her drug tests come back positive, that’ll give us more ammunition to move the case forward.”
Mr. Rupert tells me to call him if we need anything or anything changes, advising us to keep our distance from Alex before he and Melinda walk away.
The weight of the hearing crashes down on me. The tight hold I’ve kept on myself finally releases and all I feel is heavy and tired. Heavy from the last hour and tired from the stress and tension of the hearing.
“Come on.” Jedd tugs me through the front doors of the courthouse and down the steps until we’re tucked into the side of the building.
Once we’re mostly hidden, he pulls me into his arms, his hand sweeping up and down my back. As much as I hate it, I break. Tears—neither intentional nor glossy—pour out of me as I hang on to Jedd for dear life and sob my heart out.
“It’s okay, Mischief. It’s going to be okay.” He makes soothing noises as he holds me.
By the time the storm passes, my eyes are swollen and my nose is running. It’s not the first time I’ve used Jedd’s shirt as my personal tissue, but it doesn’t make it easier.
“Ugh.” I lean back, take a giant breath, and wipe my hands across my face. “I hate crying.”
“Shh.” Jedd pulls me back into his chest. “There’s nothing wrong with crying. You’ve had a really stressful time of it lately. Nothing wrong with letting the pressure out.”
“Oh, is that what you were doing when you accidentally racked yourself at the lake senior year—letting the pressure out?” I ask with a smirk.
It was our last ditch day, and all of us went to the lake to swim.
One of the last hurrahs as a student body with our high school careers nearly behind us.
Jedd was in the process of jumping off a log into the water when his foot slipped and he fell—nuts first—onto the log.
It was the last time I saw him cry. Though his was physical pain.
He chuckles at my question. “That fucking hurt, and I’m man enough to own crying when my chances for kids was jeopardized.”
My phone beeps in my pocket, and I pull it out. Jenner’s name on the readout sends a frisson of alarm through me.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Your ten o’clock just showed up. When are you going to be here?”
Ugh. Of course Mrs. Abernathy didn’t check her voicemails. The woman is seventy and can barely use her smartphone—even with help.
“I can’t, Jenner. I need you to reschedule her for me.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “I tried, she’s pretty adamant about getting her hair done today.”
“Jenner, I can’t. I don’t have time today. That’s a six-hour service, and I have to pick Piper up.”
“Mrs. Abernathy came all this way for you to style her hair, are you sure there’s nothing you can do?” Jenner rebuttals, using his customer service voice, and I just know that Mrs. Abernathy is right there with him.
“I can pick Piper up,” Jedd offers, and I grab it like a lifeline.
“Are you sure?” I whisper the question, and he nods.
“Okay. Tell her I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I say and hang up the phone.
“It’s early release day. I’ll call the school and let them know that you’re coming.”
“Mischief.” Jedd’s tone makes me look at him.
“Yeah?”
“Everything is going to be okay, you know that right?” The resolute look on his face is enough to stop me from arguing.
Instead, I nod. “I know.”
Jedd shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you do, but trust me, we’ll take care of Piper—and you.” His gaze drops to my lips, and I very nearly lean forward.
My heart leaps. Is … is he saying what I think he’s saying?
But then he leans back and says. “You better get going. I’ll head to the school and text you if I run into any problems.”
Thank god I didn’t put a nail in the coffin of our relationship by kissing him just now.
“Sure. Yeah. Thanks again,” I mutter and scurry off, giving myself an internal shake. What the hell was I thinking? Jedd doesn’t think of me like that. I need to get a handle on my emotions and the never-ending desire I have for him, or it’s going to end our friendship.
I can’t lose Jedd.
Just friends is better than being nothing to him. And that’s what would happen if I ever acted on my feelings.