35. Tyler
TYLER
I’m in the middle of drills when I see the equipment manager jogging across the bench area waving my phone. Coach blows the whistle for a water break, and I skate over fast, already knowing something’s wrong.
“It’s been blowing up,” he says, handing it to me. “Figured you’d want it.”
My stomach drops as I take it with shaking hands.
Seven missed calls from Nora.
Three texts.
Nora: Come home NOW. Jessica’s here.
Nora: Tyler, please hurry.
Nora: She's not leaving.
"Fuck." I'm already pulling off my practice jersey. "I have to go."
"What's wrong?" Liam asks.
"Harper's mom just showed up at my house."
"Wait, what? I thought she was—"
"She is. Was. I don't know. I have to go." I'm pulling on my shoes over my skate guards, not bothering to change properly. "Tell Coach it's an emergency."
"You need backup?"
"No. I just need to get home."
I don't wait for a response. I grab my keys and run.
The parking lot's a blur. My hands are shaking so badly that I drop my keys twice before getting the car door open. Jessica's here. At my house. With Nora and Harper.
The drive that normally takes fifteen minutes, I do in eight. I'm breaking every speed limit, running red lights, my heart hammering so hard I can hear it. My phone's on the passenger seat, and I keep glancing at it, waiting for another text, praying everything's okay.
What if Jessica took Harper? What if she hurt Nora? What if—
I can't think about it. I only drive faster.
I pull into the driveway so fast my tires screech, and there's an unfamiliar car parked on the street—a beat-up sedan with a cracked windshield and a dented bumper. I'm out of my car and through the front door before the engine's even fully off.
The scene I walk into makes my blood run cold.
Jessica's in my living room, touching Harper's toys, picking up a stuffed elephant, and examining it like she's never seen it before. Her movements are jerky and wrong, too fast and then too slow, her head twitching to the side every few seconds.
And Nora's standing between Jessica and the hallway to the nursery, with Harper clutched tightly against her chest, her face pale but determined. She's backed up against the wall, using her body as a shield, and I can see how hard she's shaking even from here.
"Tyler!" Nora's relief is palpable when she sees me, and I can hear the tears in her voice.
Jessica whirls around, and up close, she looks even worse.
Gaunt, her cheekbones too sharp, her skin sallow and covered in faint scabs.
Her eyes are dilated so wide there's barely any brown left, and her black pupils swimming in white.
She's lost weight, maybe twenty pounds, and her clothes hang off her frame.
She's high. Obviously, dangerously high.
"There you are," she says, her voice too loud, too fast. "I've been waiting. Where were you? I came to get my baby. That's my baby. She's mine."
I step between her and Nora immediately, putting my body between Jessica and my family. Nora makes a small sound of relief behind me.
"Get away from them," I say, my voice deadly calm even though I'm shaking with rage. "Right now."
"She's my daughter—"
"You left her on my doorstep when she was two months old. You abandoned her." I take a step forward, forcing Jessica to step back. "You don't get to show up high and demand her back."
"I'm not high—"
"You're clearly on something. Your pupils are the size of dinner plates, and you can barely stand straight." Another step forward, another step back from her. "Look at yourself, Jessica. You need help. But you're not getting Harper."
Her face twists into something ugly, something desperate. "You can't keep me from my own daughter. I have rights. Biological rights. The courts—"
"The courts favor stable parents who don't abandon their children." I'm crowding her toward the door now, each word pushing her back. "You gave up your rights when you left her on my porch in a carrier with a note. Remember that? Remember walking away from a two-month-old baby?"
"I was scared—"
“You were probably high. Like you are right now.”
Behind me, Harper starts crying. Not her normal fussy cry, but a scared cry, picking up on all the tension and fear in the room. I want to turn around, comfort her, but I can't take my eyes off Jessica.
"You're upsetting her," Jessica says, but her voice is wrong, detached. "Give her to me. I'll calm her down. I'm her mother."
"No." The word comes out flat, final. "You're not taking her anywhere."
"I'll get a lawyer. The courts favor mothers. Everyone knows that. She's mine, not yours. I made her. She came from my body. You're just—" She waves her hand vaguely. "You're just the sperm donor."
The words hit like a physical blow, but I don't let it show.
"I'm the one who's been up with her every night.
I'm the one who learned how to make bottles, change diapers, and calm her down when she's crying.
I'm the one who takes her to doctor's appointments and plays with her and loves her.
" My voice is getting louder now, months of fear and frustration pouring out.
"You don't get to show up strung out and claim her because of biology. That's not how this works."
"I'll prove you're an unfit parent. You're never home. You're always at practice or games. Who's taking care of her? This girl?" She gestures at Nora with contempt. "Some random nanny you hired? That's not stable. That's not a family."
"Get out."
"I want my daughter—"
"I said get out." I pull out my phone. "You're trespassing. You're clearly intoxicated. And you're harassing my family. Want to see how fast the police show up?"
Jessica looks between me and the phone, her eyes darting frantically. Then, over my shoulder, at Nora and Harper. I can see her calculating, trying to figure out her next move.
"You'll hear from my lawyer," she finally says, backing toward the door. "I want her back. She's mine. I carried her for nine months. I gave birth to her. She's mine, and you can't keep her from me. The courts will see that. They'll give her back to me."
"The courts will see that you abandoned your infant daughter and showed up months later, high on God knows what, making threats." I follow her to the door. "Now leave before I call 911."
She stumbles out onto the porch, nearly tripping on the step, and I follow her all the way to her car. The sedan looks even worse up close—rust eating through the paint, one taillight held on with duct tape, the passenger window covered with plastic.
"If you come back here, I'm calling the police immediately," I say through her window as she fumbles with her keys. "Stay away from my daughter."
"Our daughter," she spits, finally getting the key in the ignition. "I'll be back. With a lawyer. And you'll have to give her to me. She's mine."
"No. My daughter. You lost that right when you left her."
She peels out, tires squealing, almost hitting my mailbox. I watch until her car turns the corner and disappears completely.
Only then do I allow myself to breathe.
Only then do I let my hands shake.
Only then do I run back inside to Nora.
She's still standing exactly where I left her, Harper clutched against her chest, both of them crying now. Nora's got tears streaming down her face, but her grip on Harper is steady, protective.
"Red." I'm across the room in two steps, wrapping my arms around both of them. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you? Did she touch you?"
"No. I thought it was a delivery, and I opened the door, and she pushed past me before I could stop her.
" The words come out in a rush, Nora's voice shaking.
"She started talking about wanting Harper back, lawyers, and how she's the mother, and I didn't know what to do.
I texted you, and I tried to get her to leave, but she wouldn't, and she kept getting closer to Harper and—"
"You did perfectly. You texted me, you kept Harper safe, you stayed between them." I press a kiss to her hair, then her forehead, then her lips. "You were perfect, Red. So perfect."
"I was terrified."
"I know. But you didn't let her see that." I cup her face with one hand. "You protected Harper. That's all that matters."
Harper's still crying, her little face red and scrunched up, and I take her from Nora carefully. She's hot from crying, her onesie damp with tears and sweat.
"Hey, baby girl. It's okay. Daddy's here. You're safe. That scary lady is gone, and she's not coming back. I promise. You're safe."
I rock her, walking in slow circles around the living room, and gradually her cries taper off into hiccups. Nora sinks onto the couch, her hands still shaking.
“We need to call your lawyer,” she says, her voice steadier now but still tight. “Immediately. Before she does. If she actually gets a lawyer—”
“She won’t get one.” But even as I say it, I’m not sure. “She doesn’t have money for a lawyer. Look at that car. Look at her.”
"Desperate people do desperate things." Nora's already pulling out her phone. "And she's clearly desperate. We need to get ahead of this."
She's right. I know she's right.
"Okay. I’ll call them today. Right now." I'm still rocking Harper, who's finally calming down. "And we document everything. What time she showed up, what she said, how she looked."
"Two thirty-four p.m.," Nora says immediately, already typing into her phone.
"She rang the doorbell, and I answered with Harper.
She pushed past me into the living room and said she wanted her daughter back.
Her eyes were dilated, her movements were erratic, and she was clearly under the influence of something.
She made threats about lawyers and courts favoring mothers. "
I watch her document everything with precise detail, her fingers flying across her phone screen, and I fall in love with her all over again.
She's scared. She's shaking. But she's handling this.
"She touched Harper's toys," Nora continues. "The elephant, the blocks, the rattle. She was moving around the room erratically. She wouldn't leave when asked. She only left when you threatened to call the police."
"Red—"
"No. We're doing this right." She looks up at me, her hazel eyes fierce despite the fear still visible in them. "She threatened to take Harper. We're not letting that happen."
"We're not," I agree.
Harper's asleep now, exhausted from crying, her little body heavy in my arms. I carry her upstairs and put her in her crib gently, watching her for a moment to make sure she's really settled.
When I come back down, I call my lawyer.
I called her the day the paternity results came in, the day Maya pushed me to do the test, the day I knew I needed someone in my corner if Jessica ever came back. She’s been waiting for this call.
I tell her everything in three minutes.
“I want you both in my office today,” Ms. Chen says. “Four-thirty. I’ll start drafting emergency protective measures while you’re on your way.”
“We’ll be there.”
When I hang up, Nora’s looking at me.
“Four-thirty,” I tell her.
“Okay.” She stands up, and I can see her pulling herself together, pushing the fear back. “We need to be prepared. Documentation, timeline, everything.”
“I’ll get it.” I pull out my phone again. “I’ve got the note Jessica left with Harper. Photos of Harper when she first arrived.”
“Pediatrician records too.”
“We have months of receipts for everything Harper-related.”
We spend the next hour gathering everything, building our case, preparing for war. Because that’s what this is. Jessica’s showing up wasn’t just a visit. It was a declaration.
She wants Harper back.
And we’re going to make damn sure that doesn’t happen.