Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Kate
It’s Thursday afternoon, and I know the hold music for three different law offices by heart.
It loops in my head, bright and chirpy in a way that frays every nerve I’ve got left.
I haven’t really slept since the papers were handed to me.
Two days blurred together—consultations, panic spirals, late-night research that only made things worse.
Half the attorneys I reached were booked solid.
The others wanted retainers I couldn’t touch even if I liquidated everything I own.
Every time I find someone who might help, I look at Evie’s photo on my desk and feel the floor in my life tilt. I’ve been functioning—shelving returns, running story hour, smiling for patrons—but all of it feels painted over.
The front door opens, and I look up. Brynn strides in, sun-kissed and glowing like she swallowed the Caribbean whole.
“Look at you,” I say, forcing warmth into my voice. “You’re radiant. That’s what two weeks of sand and zero responsibilities does to a person, huh?”
She grins, leaning over the counter. “That, and having a husband who carries me and every suitcase.”
I laugh with her, but the sound feels thin. “Married life suits you.”
“It really does.” She studies me more closely, her smile softening. “What about you? How have things been here?”
I huff out a sigh. “Just tired.”
Her posture shifts. “Work tired or something’s wrong tired?”
I hesitantly sort returns, buying myself a few seconds. “Little of both.”
“Kate,” she coaxes.
I stare at the slips in front of me.
“Kate,” Brynn repeats, quieter.
I inhale. “I got served.”
Her expression collapses. “From who? Why?”
I swallow, throat tightening. “Evie’s dad filed for joint custody.”
Shock clears her face of everything else. “What? You never even told me—” She stops. “I don’t know who he is.”
“No one does,” I whisper. “I wanted it to stay that way. But with this, it will be hard to keep it a secret any longer.”
She waits—not pushing, holding space like she’s offering a safe place to land.
“Her father is Daniel McMichael,” I say, voice barely there. “The mayor’s son.”
Brynn’s eyes widen as she whispers, “That Daniel?”
I nod. “Sophomore year of college. I got pregnant, he panicked. His dad wanted it handled quietly before election season, so Daniel broke up with me, said he wanted nothing to do with the baby. Then he transferred schools. I didn’t hear from him again until we had a very quiet appointment to set up support. ”
“Oh, Kate…”
“I didn’t tell anyone because I couldn’t bear the whispers. If people found out Evie was the mayor’s grandchild, her childhood would turn into town property. Everybody would watch her, judge her. Judge me. She deserves better than that circus.”
Brynn rounds the counter and pulls me into her arms.
“I’ve spent the last two days calling every family attorney with a pulse,” I admit against her shoulder. “They’re all either overbooked or unaffordable. I can’t let him walk back in and claim her like she’s mattered to him this whole time.”
“You won’t,” she says firmly, pulling back to meet my eyes. “Knox has a friend from college—a family lawyer in Roanoke. I’ll get the number and we’ll make a plan.”
Tears sting behind my lashes. “Thank you.”
“Always.”
She hesitates, then asks, “Does Cam know?”
I nod. “I called him the night it happened.”
Her mouth curves, barely. “Of course you did.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.” She squeezes my arm. “It’s just good to see someone show up for you.”
“He shouldn’t have to,” I whisper.
Brynn’s gaze softens, voice steady and warm. “Letting someone help isn’t weakness, Kate. It’s choosing not to drown alone.” She squeezes my hand one more time. “I’ll talk to Knox. You’re not facing this without us.”
When she leaves, the library feels too still. I go to my office, sit at my desk, press my palms over my eyes, and breathe through the ache in my ribs.
My phone lights up with a text.
Cam:
Just checking in. You holding up, Katie?
I exhale, thumb hovering.
Kate:
Trying.
His reply comes almost immediately.
Cam:
You got this, Katie. I’m here if you need anything.
I stare at the screen, a lump forming somewhere deep in my chest. The fight hasn’t even started, but a small part of me feels like I’m not alone in the struggle.