Chapter 14 Phantom
PHANTOM
Holly loans Poppy a sweater to wear over the dress she wore on our first date.
We don’t have time to get nice clothes for her to wear to court, but with the sweater covering up the one bare shoulder, she looks fucking sexy and a hell of a lot better than the rest of the jokers lined up in the halls of family court.
I’m wearing dress pants and a dress shirt without a tie, and I’m sweating because I’m so nervous.
I’ve got my fingers laced through Poppy’s, and we’re sitting side by side on a shitty wooden bench that reminds me of going to church.
Your ass never forgets a church pew, and this feels as uncomfortable as it did when I was seven.
That was probably the last time I set foot in a house of worship.
With seats like this, it’s no wonder why.
“Owen.” My lawyer extends his hand to me. “Good to see you.”
I shoot a look at Poppy, whose lips curl into a small smile at hearing my given name.
“Thanks for handling this, Ed.” I motion toward Poppy. “This is Poppy Vallejo. Poppy, my lawyer, Ed.”
Poppy and Ed shake hands, and Ed gets rights down to business. “I’ve also filed a temporary restraining order that applies to you, Poppy, and both girls. I expect the judge to rule on that today as well.”
Poppy squeezes my hand, and I don’t even need to look at her to know what she’s thinking. “Poppy has a son,” I remind Ed. “Is his name on those papers?”
Ed curses under his breath. “How old?”
“Ten,” Poppy supplies.
“I’ll talk to the clerk. Let them know, under the circumstances with the break-in, it’s a detail I overlooked. We’ll get it amended.”
Ed looks us over and locks on us holding hands. “Is this something I need to know about?” he asks. “If you’re dating the woman who gave a sworn declaration to the court, that could call her impartiality into question.”
Poppy releases my hand. “I was just trying to be supportive,” she explains. “This is stressful. Probably as much for me as for him.”
Ed nods. “Shayla’s been served with a notice to appear, but she doesn’t have to.
I talked to her lawyer last night, and I don’t think she’s going to show.
We both think there’s almost no chance the judge won’t rule in your favor, but…
” He glares at me. “Just remember. Nothing’s guaranteed in family court.
Taking the girls away from their mother completely is only going to be granted on a temporary basis.
Just stay quiet, let me do the talking, and no matter what happens, keep your cool. ”
He gives me this talk every time.
“Got it.” I move to take Poppy’s hand but then remember what Ed said. I shoot her a look.
The court clerk calls my last name, and Ed motions for us to go into the courtroom.
“That’s us,” I say, nodding at Poppy. I stroke my beard nervously, and she gives me a look.
I’m starting to understand Poppy’s many expressions.
The way she blinks and works her lips like she’s whispering to herself when she’s thinking.
The way she stares at her son like he’s water and she’s dying of thirst. And the way she looks at me.
Like she is drawn in and yet repelled—or maybe is just pulling back—at the same time.
I get it.
There hasn’t been a woman I’ve wanted to make mine for more than a night since Shayla. I told Poppy I wanted her with me so I could protect her, and that’s true, but the minute Ed’s back is turned, I lace my fingers through hers and squeeze.
Maybe this isn’t just about her body, her kindness, the tiredness around her eyes that make me want to burn down the world so she can get some rest.
Just as with the ink on my chest, I haven’t believed that I have room in, around, or anywhere near my heart for anyone but my daughters.
I’m an asshole through and through. And I’ve been wrong before. Maybe I’ve been wrong about how big that space around my heart really is.
“That was fast,” Poppy murmurs against my ear as we stand and wait for the judge to dismiss us.
It was fast and easy. Too easy, really. I shake my lawyer’s hand, and he tells me I don’t have to wait.
Once the court stamps everything and does whatever they do, he’ll have all the paperwork confirming that I’ve been granted not only full temporary custody of the girls, but a restraining order against Shayla that keeps her away from me and the kids except for scheduled visits through a social worker.
That’s going to be a lotta bullshit, appointments and scheduling, but I’ll do it if it means I get to keep the kids with me.
“You still want to go to your place?” I ask once we’re back in my truck. As if it has a mind of its own, my right hand reaches out to hold hers.
“Yeah,” she says quietly.
There’s something in her voice I don’t like.
“Was that too much for you?” After everything I’ve been through, I still fucking hate being in a courthouse.
Seeing the bailiffs and judges brings back too many painful memories.
I just try to remind myself that as long as there’s nothing they can put cuffs on me for, I’m all right.
I realize now that, having Poppy with me, I was way less fucked in the head than I normally am about judges and legal shit. But she probably hasn’t been through anything like this before. She hasn’t even gone through a divorce.
“No,” she says quietly. “Maybe. I don’t know. It just broke my heart for your girls. Having the court decide when and how they can see their mom. I know it’s what’s best for them, but it’s hard not to wonder what would have happened if Michael hadn’t passed away.”
She stares straight ahead through the windshield as she talks. “I don’t want to disrespect his memory. He was a good guy. My high school sweetheart. But you talked about people changing. Michael was changing. He changed, I guess. I mean, after Jax was born.”
I listen until we pull into the driveway outside her house. There’s a bike parked halfway down the block that I recognize as one of the prospect’s.
Good. I told them surveillance.
I kill the engine and turn to face Poppy. “What do you mean changed?”
She shakes her head, those long brown waves moving around her face.
“I don’t know. I think my mom knows something about it, but to be honest, I don’t want to know.
If he was cheating, what does it matter now?
All it would do is change the memories I have.
Can you imagine not being able to confront him?
Knowing a secret and having to live with it like that?
Sometimes I wonder if I’m so damned tired all the time because all I ever do is work on keeping all the questions and all the suspicions buried.
” She licks her lips. “But they are fighting to get out. I need to know the truth, don’t I?
What kind of person would I be if I said I really don’t want to know? ”
“The kind of person who’s protecting her peace. Fuck, Poppy. Your dad died after he built your salon. You were a widow with a two-year-old. Do you really think knowing any more about how your husband died or what he was up to before he passed would change your life for the better?”
She turns in the seat and faces me. “I locked up my heart when he died. I don’t know if I know how to let anyone else in.”
What she’s saying hits me as hard as what she’s not saying. She wants to let me in. And she might never be able to.
“After you’ve been locked up,” I tell her, “it’s like the only thing that matters is freedom.
But you get out of a cell, and you’re right back in another kind of prison.
The kind of prison people put you in. Bills and bosses.
People’s opinions of you. Prejudice.” I shake my head.
“Any door I’ve ever opened, I had to break my way through.
A little lock ain’t going to keep me out of where I want to go.
You just got to let me know it’s okay, and I’ll break down the fucking door if I have to. ”
I jerk a thumb toward her house. “Not like that. I don’t fucking go where I’m not wanted. But if I am…”
Her lips part and her breathing goes shallow.
There’s a sudden rap at the window, and I turn a murderous gaze to the prospect who should be watching the house, not me.
I throw open the door and slam it behind me, leaving Poppy in the truck. “What?”
The kid holds up his phone and shakes it wildly. “I’m sorry, Phantom. I’m sorry. Savage and Viper have been blowing up my phone. They said they can’t reach you and it’s urgent.”
I curse under my breath and grab my phone. Fuck. Fuck! I turned it off while we were in court and didn’t even think to turn it back on. Once I power it up, I see fifteen messages.
Savage: Problem. Call me.
Viper: We definitely have a problem.
Savage: Call me the second you get this.
Viper: Phantom, fuck. Where TF are you?
I don’t bother reading the rest of them since they all say the same things. I punch in Savage’s number and dial it.
“What the fuck is going on?” I bark. Poppy is still in my truck, and I want her where I can see her. Even more important, I want her safe.
Savage gets right to it. “Dylan,” he says. “He was jumped. Beat bad. He’s here, but you’re going to want to see this. How soon can you get here.”
“I need two hours, tops. He need a doctor?”
Savage grunts. “He won’t go. He’s conscious, but he’s fucked up. He won’t say what happened.”
I’ll get Dylan to talk. The only reason he’s not talking now is he either can’t because too many teeth are broken, or he fucked up and he’s stalling to figure out how to spin it. I’m banking on that last thing.
“Don’t let him out of your sight. Two hours.” I hang up, then clap the prospect on the shoulder. “Good work. I’m going to bring her inside. Eyes on the house while we’re in there.”
He nods, looking relieved that I complimented him instead of tore him a new asshole for pounding on my window. I go around to the passenger side and try to remember what the fuck we were talking about.