Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Cam
Gordy’s feels busier than usual tonight, maybe because my head won’t quiet down long enough to separate the noise from my own thoughts. We’re just days away from the hearing and the stress is starting to set in. Especially after Kate’s call earlier.
When I got home, I talked her off the ledge. Honestly, Daniel’s attorney can search for all the proof he wants, we know what’s real. And I think the entire town has been rooting for us since the coat closet mishap at Knox and Brynn’s wedding.
Kate practically pushed me out the door when Knox texted to say he and Brynn were headed to Gordy’s.
She needs her alone time and she wanted to start finalizing her statement for the hearing.
So I helped put Evie to bed and checked twice to make sure she was okay and now I’m in a booth with Knox, Brynn, and Kinsey.
We’re sitting at our usual booth near the back, plates of wings and fries already half gone.
Brynn gives me a soft look. “How’s Kate holding up?”
“Trying to keep it together,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Spent half the evening organizing bills and school forms like that’ll make a judge see she’s the most capable woman in the damn county.”
Knox nods, jaw tight. “That sounds about right for her.”
“Yeah.” Brynn sighs. “She keeps apologizing to me for asking to testify if her lawyer calls me up. As if she were dragging me into this. Like I didn’t volunteer the second I found out.”
“Still feels like I’m not doing enough,” I admit. “Daniel’s playing dirty. Her lawyer’s saying Daniel’s investigating our marriage. Trying to dig up dirt on her to ruin her credibility.”
Kinsey snorts. “Oh, that’s rich. Maybe his lawyer should spend five minutes in a room with the two of you. The sexual tension alone could testify against his accusations.”
Brynn chokes on her drink. “Kinsey!”
“What?” Kinsey grins. “I’m not wrong.”
Knox smirks. “Subtlety was never your strong suit.”
She flicks a fry at him. “Please, subtlety is for wimps.”
That pulls a quiet laugh out of me, and damn, it feels good to laugh.
Knox sobers first. “Listen, man. You can’t go into that courtroom ready to throw punches. That’s exactly what they’ll expect—a hot-headed coach trying to play hero. You’ve got to look calm, strong. The guy who builds a home, not one that could break it.”
I nod, letting that sink in. He’s right. My instincts want to swing, to protect, to tear down anyone who threatens what’s mine—but this isn’t the field. This is real life. And real life requires a different kind of strength.
Brynn reaches across the table, her hand resting on my arm. “She’s scared, Cam. You being calm is the one thing keeping her from falling apart.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “I can do that for her.”
Kinsey smirks. “Good. Because if you show up to court ready to brawl, I’ll personally tackle you. Might be rusty, but I bet I’ve still got the form.”
Knox chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re terrifying.”
“Thank you,” she says sweetly, stealing his fry.
The laughter fades into a comfortable quiet. For a second, it feels normal—just friends, food, and familiar noise.
But when I step outside later, the air smells like rain and asphalt, and my phone buzzes with a text from Kate:
Kate:
Evie’s asleep. I’m still working on the witness list. You okay?
I stare at the screen for a long second before typing back:
Me:
Yeah. Just wanted you to know—I’ve got you. Both of you.
Kate:
Love you, Wells.
Me:
Love you more, Katie. I’ll be home in a few.
Kate’s still at the kitchen table when I walk into the house, her laptop open, surrounded by papers, highlighters, and an untouched cup of tea that’s gone cold. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts, hair twisted up in a messy knot.
The sight of her hits me dead center. Beautiful, focused, exhausted, stubborn as hell.
“Hey,” I say quietly, setting my keys on the counter.
She looks up, eyes tired but softening when she sees me. “You’re back.”
“Knox wanted to talk about practice schedules.” I cross the room, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Everyone says hi and they miss you. You should’ve gone to bed.”
She gives me that look—the one that means don’t tell me what to do. “Couldn’t sleep. I’ve been working on my statement for the hearing.”
My jaw tightens. “You’ve been at this since dinner.”
“I know,” she says, rubbing her temple. “It’s just...I want it to sound right, Cam. The judge has to believe me. That Evie’s safe right here, where she should be.”
I drop into the chair beside her, resting an arm on the back of hers. “Let me read it.”
She hesitates, then slides the paper over. I skim through the lines, the words are too formal, too careful. It reads like a resume, not a description of her and Evie’s life.
“It’s good,” I tell her honestly, “but it’s not you.”
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to sound perfect. You don’t need to.
” I set the paper down, turning to face her.
“Tell them the truth. Tell them how you fall asleep with Evie’s drawings on your nightstand.
How she makes you laugh so hard you forget to breathe.
How Evie never wants for anything. That’s the mother you are. That’s what’s real.”
Her throat works around a quiet breath. “Do you think that will be enough to win, though?”
“I like to hope it will,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I think it’s worth a try.”
She looks at me for a long second, something soft breaking in her eyes. “How did I get this lucky?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “I could ask you the same thing.”
A shy smile spreads on her lips as she goes back to writing, the pen moving slower now, the words coming easier. I stay beside her, reading over her shoulder, catching errors and refilling her tea.
After a while, her handwriting trails off. The pen slips from her fingers, her head tipping toward my shoulder. I slide the papers into her folder, careful not to wake her, and press a kiss to her hair.
Evie’s nightlight glows faintly down the hall, the soft whir of the A/C filling the quiet. Kate’s eyes start to flutter, her chin dipping toward her chest. “Come on, Katie,” I say, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Bed.”
She doesn’t argue—just lets me help her to her feet, her body leaning into mine. In the bedroom, she reaches for the hem of her shirt, but her hands are clumsy. I step in gently, sliding the fabric up and over her head. She gives me a small, tired smile.
“Arms up,” I say softly.
She obeys without protest, and I guide her out of the rest of her clothes with slow, careful movements. I pull her sleep shirt over her head, smoothing it down before she crawls into bed.
When she’s settled, I strip down and slide under the sheets. I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. She tucks her head under my chin, body relaxing inch by inch as the weight of the day finally releases its hold.
And lying there with her molded against me, all I can think is that she’s the strongest damn person I’ve ever known. And I’ll spend my whole life making sure I’m the man that deserves to stand by her side.