Chapter 46
Grant
I feel a deep sense of satisfaction as I watch Steven walk out of the courtroom with his tail between his legs.
The piece of shit finally got what he deserved.
But more than that, I’m proud as hell of Heather. The way she stood up to him, looked him in the eye, and told him exactly what he needed to hear. No sign of fear and no backing down. Just pure strength.
That’s my Hurricane.
Richard closes his briefcase and turns to us with a satisfied smile.
“That went exactly as we hoped,” he says. “Judge Morrison didn’t waste any time shutting him down.”
“What happens now?” Heather asks. Her voice is steady, but she sounds tired now that the adrenaline is probably wearing off. Like someone who has been through hell and back too many times to count.
“The restraining order is in effect immediately,” Jennifer says. “You’ll receive the official documentation within forty-eight hours, but it’s legally binding as of today.”
Mario nods. “And given what just happened in there, I doubt Mr. Walsh will risk violating it. He knows he lost. Badly.”
“But what if he tries something anyway?” The muscle in Heather’s jaw tightens as she grimaces. “What if he doesn’t care about the restraining order?”
“Then he goes to jail,” Richard says simply. “Judge Morrison made it very clear. No contact means no contact. If he calls, texts, or shows up at your home, workplace, or April’s school, you call the police immediately. They’ll enforce the order.”
“We can also pursue a harassment charge if he continues any pattern of behavior,” Jennifer adds. “But honestly, Ms. Lucas, I think he got the message today. Men like Steven are bullies. They thrive on control and intimidation. You took that power away from him in front of everyone.”
Heather nods slowly, processing it all.
“There’s one more thing we should discuss,” Richard says. “Given the circumstances, I’d recommend we file for a formal termination of his parental rights.”
“What does that mean?” Heather asks.
“It means legally severing any connection he has to April. He’d have no claim to custody, no visitation rights, nothing. It’s a permanent solution.”
“Can we do that?”
“Absolutely. He abandoned his responsibilities for nine years. He has no relationship with the child. And now he’s demonstrated a pattern of harassment and threatening behavior. A judge would almost certainly grant it.”
Heather looks up at me, and I can see the hope flickering in her eyes. The possibility of Steven being completely, permanently out of their lives.
“Do it,” I say. “Whatever it takes to make sure he can never come back.”
Richard nods. “We’ll start the paperwork this week. It’ll take some time to process, but I’m confident we’ll get the outcome we want.”
“Thank you,” Heather says. “All of you. I don’t know how to repay you for this.”
“You already did,” Jennifer says with a warm smile. “You showed up and fought. That’s all we needed from you.”
Mario extends his hand to shake both of ours. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call. But I think the hard part is over now.”
Richard gathers the rest of his papers. “We’ll be in touch once we have updates on the termination of rights. In the meantime, go celebrate. You earned this win.”
They head out, leaving Heather and me alone in the empty courtroom.
For a long moment, neither of us says anything. We just stand there, surrounded by the quiet, letting everything sink in.
Then Heather lets out a long, shaky breath. Relief washes over her face as she looks up at me.
“It’s over,” she says. “Grant, it’s actually over.”
“Yeah, Hurricane. It’s over.”
“It doesn’t feel real yet. But I know I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You absolutely could have. I’m glad you let me help, but I mean it, Heather. The way you stood up to him like that? That was all you. I just had your back.”
“You had my back through all of it.” She reaches up and covers my hand with hers. “The lawyers, the support, being here today when you should’ve been at practice. I don’t even know how to thank you for all of that.”
“You don’t have to thank me at all. I didn’t do it for the thanks.”
“How about this?” She smiles, and it’s the first real, unguarded smile I’ve seen from her in weeks.
“Thank you for believing in me. For keeping me sane and helping with April and all the million little things you do every day that I definitely notice even if I don’t always do the best job of showing my gratitude in the moment.
But I am grateful for you. Every minute of every day. ”
“I know you are. And I’ll always believe in you. I’ll always be here for you.” I lean down and kiss her, slow and gentle, until she melts into me.
When we finally pull apart, I take her hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
We walk out of the courtroom together, and I can feel her starting to relax beside me. We push through the heavy doors and step outside into the fresh air.
That’s when I see him.
Steven stumbles out from behind a concrete pillar near the courthouse steps. His suit is disheveled, his tie loosened, and even from ten feet away, I can smell the alcohol on him.
He’s drunk. Drunk enough that he must have started before the hearing, then hit the bottle hard immediately after, when it didn’t go his way.
“There you are,” he slurs, pointing at us with an unsteady hand. “You thought you could just walk away? Thought you fucking won?”
I immediately step in front of Heather, putting myself between her and Steven. “You need to leave. Now.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” He sways on his feet, and his face is red and blotchy. “You think you’re so fucking special? You think you can just take my family?”
“They were never yours.” I’m doing my best to keep my voice level.
As satisfying as it would be to deck the guy right here and now, I don’t want to cause a scene at the fucking courthouse of all places.
“Walk away, Steven. You’re already violating the restraining order.
Let’s not make this worse than it already is. ”
“Fuck the restraining order!” He takes a step closer, and that’s when I see it.
The gun.
He pulls it from inside his jacket with shaking hands, and every instinct I have as an athlete kicks in. Time slows down. My vision narrows. I track every movement, every shift in his body weight.
“Steven, no!” Heather’s voice is high and terrified behind me. “Please, don’t do this!”
“Shut up!” He waves the gun wildly between us. “Just shut the fuck up! I’m so sick of hearing your voice, Heather. Always whining, always playing the victim.”
“Put the gun down.” My voice sounds deadly calm to my own ears, and I can only hope that’s the way Steven hears it. I keep my hands visible and non-threatening, but I’m calculating distances, angles, and timing. “This isn’t going to end well for you.”
“You think I care?” Spit flies from his mouth as he rants in Heather’s direction.
“You took everything from me! My daughter, my rights, my fucking life! And you.” He switches and points the gun at me, and his hands are shaking so badly now that I’m not sure whether that makes him more or less dangerous.
“You think you’re some kind of hero? Coming in here with your money and your lawyers, while you play house with my family? ”
“You had a chance to be a family,” I say. “You lost that right when you put your hands on Heather.”
“I didn’t lose shit!” His voice rises hoarsely. “That judge, she didn’t understand. Nobody understands. Heather is mine. April is mine. And you’re just some dumbass hockey player who thinks he can swoop in and take everything.”
“Steven, please.” Heather’s voice is soft and sweet, like she’s talking to an unruly child or a scared puppy. “Just put the gun down. This isn’t you. You don’t want to do this.”
“Don’t tell me what I want!” He swings the gun toward her, and rage explodes in my chest.
“Point that gun at her again and you’re done,” I growl.
He laughs, but it’s an ugly, broken sound. “What are you gonna do? You gonna stop me? You gonna be the big man?”
I don’t answer. I just watch him and wait.
He’s drunk and angry, which makes him unpredictable. But it also makes him sloppy. His grip on the gun keeps shifting. His stance is unbalanced, and he’s swaying on his feet.
“You ruined my life,” he says, and now he’s almost crying. “Both of you. Everything was fine before you showed up, Parker. Everything was under control.”
“Nothing was under control,” Heather says quietly. “You were never in control, Steven. That’s why you’re here with a gun. Because you can’t handle losing.”
“Shut up!” He takes a step forward, and his foot catches on the edge of the step.
That’s my opening.
He stumbles, just for a second. His weight shifts forward, and the gun drops slightly.
I don’t think. I just move.
Years of training, thousands of hours of explosive movements and split-second reactions, all of it comes together in one instant. I launch myself forward, covering the distance between us in two strides.
The gun goes off.
The sound is deafening. Something hot sears across my shoulder, but I don’t stop. I slam into Steven with all my weight, driving him backward into the concrete pillar behind him.
The impact knocks the air out of his lungs, and I hear the satisfying crunch of his ribs as he grunts in pain. He tries to swing the gun toward me, but I grab his wrist and smash it against the pillar once, twice, three times until his grip loosens and the gun clatters to the ground.
“Grant!” Heather screams.
I don’t let up. I pin Steven against the pillar with my forearm across his throat, not enough to choke him but enough to keep him from moving too much. He struggles, but he’s drunk and out of shape, and I outweigh him by at least seventy pounds of muscle.
“Don’t move,” I snarl in his face. “Don’t fucking move.”
He tries to spit at me, but he can barely breathe.