Louder Than Words (Lyrics from the Heart Trilogy #2)

Allie

Is it physically possible for your heart to tear through your chest if it beats hard enough?

The logical, medically trained part of me knows the answer is no. And yet, I’m still convinced it’s about to happen anyway. That’s anxiety for you, though—especially when you’re sitting alone in a courthouse lobby.

My hands won’t stay still, running along the sides of my jeans until the friction burns my palms. I clench my fists to stop, then slowly lace my fingers together and press them into my lap as if that’ll be enough to settle my still growing nerves.

Inhale the good, exhale the bad. Inhale the good, exhale the bad.

I repeat the mantra like it’s gospel, hoping that saying it enough will make everything better somehow.

But the truth is? This could be the exact opposite of okay.

This could be catastrophic. I could lose…

everything. My girls are the very reason I breathe, drag myself out of bed, and keep moving forward on the days I want to disappear. If I lose them—

The thought alone sinks its claws in, refusing to let go until I’m suddenly hyper-aware of everything around me.

Like the way this old wooden bench is uncomfortable no matter how I sit.

Or how the air smells like a strange mix of rusty metal from the ancient heaters, stale coffee, and… is that alcohol?

My nose wrinkles, and I turn slightly, spotting an older man on the far end of the bench.

Not close enough to make me uncomfortable, but enough that I can tell the smell is definitely coming from him.

His head rests against the wall, eyes closed, and a wiry beard nearly dips into his coat pocket.

My eyes linger longer than they should, but I can’t look away.

My mind races with so many questions that just aren’t mine to ask.

Like is he here because he has to be? Or because life hasn’t been kind and he just needs somewhere warm? Is his family worried sick about him?

God, pull yourself together, Allie.

He shifts slightly, and my eyes snap back to the floor.

I drag my hands down my face, trying to shake off even a fraction of the nerves buzzing through my bones.

I’ve only been here five minutes, but my constant shifting and tugging at my sleeves is probably already catching the security guard’s eye.

But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t stop.

All I can think about is whether or not Trevor is going to try and belittle me again.

Maybe he’ll even tell the mediator how terrible of a mom I am, just like he tried to convince the first judge we saw three months ago.

Thankfully, she dismissed everything the second Trevor opened his mouth—probably smelling the bull oozing from his pores. But what if this time it does go to trial? What if the next judge actually agrees with him? The thought alone makes my heart race, matching pace with my bouncing knee.

God, I need a distraction. Anything to stop my brain from spiraling into every worst-case scenario. Although, it’s probably too late for that. Any rational thought I brought with me was clearly blown away the second I opened the door.

At least one thing I don’t have to worry about right now is the girls. I can still see them forcing Jax into a seat at their tea party this morning, and that at least makes me smile.

He really is just a gentle giant. Over six feet tall, with tattoos and a leather jacket, and yet he jumps the second those girls ask him for anything. And I mean anything.

Tea party? They don’t even have to ask. He’s already gathering the plastic set he bought them.

They want to paint his nails bubblegum pink?

Or give him pigtails? He doesn’t hesitate to fold himself onto their tiny stool like it was made for him.

What matters to him is making those girls laugh and feel seen.

Watching him love them like they’re his own is probably the most attractive thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life.

And yet someone wants to rip that away.

The revolving doors spin, making my heart leap into my throat. I look up and see Trevor walking in, his new girlfriend in tow, clinging to his arm like a leech. Except she doesn’t realize that soon enough, he’ll be the one sucking the life out of her.

They pass through the metal detectors, and I try not to stare, but how can I not?

This is the man trying to ruin my life? How did I not see this coming from a mile away?

The way he carries himself alone makes him look like an arrogant prick.

Shaggy blonde hair that almost matches my bench neighbor, a stupid blue checkered jacket with a faux-fur collar, and a small rip on the left pocket.

Actually, I think I bought him that ugly thing for his birthday three years ago.

A smile pulls at the corner of my lips at the irony, and I realize something I should have known a long time ago.

I got this.

I have nothing to worry about when it comes to a decision between Trevor or me taking care of our girls.

I’ve been there since day one. He hasn’t.

I was the one paying for everything in the end, not him.

All those sleepless nights when the girls were sick, birthdays, doctor appointments, teaching them to be kind and grateful—the list goes on. And that was all me.

They sit on the opposite side of the room, completely ignoring the instructions I know we both got to check in at the front desk.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, my chest tightens when I see we only have a few minutes left.

I clear my throat. “Y-you need to check in at the desk,” I say, forcing a small smile and gesturing toward the window.

They both turn to face me, and I shrink under their glare, like I’m something contagious they could catch if they’re not careful. His girlfriend leans in, her shoulder-length blonde hair falling like a privacy curtain, blocking any chance of me reading her lips as she whispers something in his ear.

Heat floods my cheeks, but why should I be the one feeling embarrassed when I’m the only one being civil here.

They’re the ones acting like we’re still in high school, and I’m just the weird girl in the corner.

It’s like my life has become a soap opera, and everyone’s watching, shoveling popcorn into their mouths while sighing, Poor little Allie.

The sting of being an outcast creeps in, but I swallow it down and sit up a little taller instead.

A door swings open to my right, and a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a matching beard steps out. His eyes scan the room. “Allison Windsor and Trevor Monroe?”

I stand, grab my purse, and move toward him, just as Trevor and Marissa do the same.

Wait, why is she going inside? The paperwork clearly said only the two parents were allowed—hence why Jax isn’t here with me. And honestly, the thought of sticking Jax and Trevor in a room together doesn’t sound like the brightest idea.

The man raises an eyebrow. “Which one of you is Allison?” he asks, waving a slender finger between us.

I raise my hand sheepishly. “That’s me.”

He nods, then turns to the she-devil. “Ma’am, you’ll have to wait outside. This is for the parental parties only.”

She glares at me like she’s trying to set me on fire with her eyes, but thankfully walks off when Trevor whispers something to her.

When we step inside, a round table waits in the center, with only three chairs—one at the head and two on either side. Which means Trevor and I have to physically face each other.

Without tearing each other’s eyes out.

I take my seat to the mediator’s left and place my hands nervously on my lap as my heart screams in my chest.

“My name is Mark, and my job here is to help you work toward a plan. This isn’t about winning or losing, it’s about what’s best for your girls,” he says, setting two manila envelopes and a notepad in front of him.

“Today we’ll focus on your current schedule, your concerns, and your hopes for the future.

You may speak only to me, not to each other. And no interrupting. Understood?”

We both nod slowly, forcing tight-lipped smiles.

“Trevor, would you like to start?”

“I’m here for full custody,” he says, shrugging as if it’s obvious. “I don’t think fifty-fifty is good for the girls. They need stability.”

I raise a brow, already fighting the urge to cut in, because is he serious right now? Stability is exactly what the girls already have.

“Why do you feel it’s in their best interest to be with you full time instead of their mother?”

Trevor lets out a quick, scoffing laugh. “Because I’m not the one dragging them into a life full of drugs or whatever the hell else rock stars do.” Then his eyes snap to mine, and my stomach twists. “They need parents, not overgrown teenagers pretending to be adults.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Let’s stay on track, please,” Mark interjects, reaching out a hand. “Allie, what are your thoughts?”

Too many to spill here, Mark.

“I’m open to sharing custody. I’m not here to fight him, I just won’t give up my rights as their mother. I’ve been there through everything—”

“Yeah, until you weren’t,” Trevor interrupts.

“Trevor, please let her finish,” Mark says before jotting something down on his notepad.

I take a shaky breath and turn back to him. “I’ve been there for our daughters since day one. I’ve taken one vacation since they were born, and it was during his time with them. That’s what he’s really upset about.”

“What does your current parenting plan look like?” Mark asks, pen hovering over his notepad.

“The girls live with me primarily, and they’re with Trevor during the summer,” I say quietly. “It’s not perfect, but it worked for us.”

“Until you got distracted,” Trevor mutters under his breath, his eyes drilling holes into mine.

“Can you be more specific, Mr. Monroe?” Mark asks without looking up.

Trevor jolts upright, nearly toppling his chair. “I’d love to, Mark—”

“I am not discussing my personal life unless it becomes relevant,” I snap, nails biting into my palm.

“If either of you has concerns about the other’s home environment, that can be discussed, but it needs to be based on facts, not assumptions,” Mark says, giving Trevor a pointed look.

Neither of us says anything, because what exactly could he say?

Everything he has is based on assumptions.

He’s had one conversation with Jax and didn’t bother coming to me about anything.

He ambushed him in a waiting room after my accident, firing off questions like it was an interrogation. That’s all he has.

“Alright, we’ll stop here for today,” Mark says, glancing between us.

“Between now and our next meeting, I want you both to seriously think about what these girls need.” He pauses, tapping the edge of his notepad.

“And I don’t just mean where they sleep—think about how this could really affect them.

Next time, we’ll discuss schedules and decision-making.

But if we can’t reach an agreement by then, you’ll have to meet with the judge. ”

“I’ll think about what’s safest,” Trevor says, his eyes locked on me like I’m a bug he wants to squish beneath his loafers.

“Maybe think about what’s fair, too,” I mutter under my breath.

Suddenly, Trevor slams his hands on the table, hard enough to rattle the mediator’s coffee mug. I flinch, my heart hammering against my chest.

“You want to talk about what’s fair?” he snaps, spit hitting my cheek. “How about the fact you’re trying to steal my daughters to play house with your new boyfriend since you can’t give him a baby? How’s that for fucking fair?”

I stare, wide-eyed, as he storms out, slamming the door so hard it rattles the paintings scattered along the wall.

My body is frozen in my seat, trembling while I silently kick myself for sharing something so personal with him.

Deep down, I knew it would be foolish, but a small part of me had hoped that if he knew, then maybe he would back off, even just a little.

To think he was once the reason I laughed until my sides ached. And now? Now I can’t remember why I ever fell in love with him in the first place. How could he be so cruel? Or even think so lowly of me, believing I would actually do something like that?

The sound of a pen scratching across paper cuts through the air. My hands shake as I reach for my purse, fumbling with the strap. I quickly gather it, hugging it tightly to my chest like it’ll somehow protect me.

Without a word, or a second glance at the mediator, I pack up and hurry to my car, shutting the door with a firm click. I don’t even get the key in the ignition before the tears start falling. My throat is so tight, I can’t swallow past the lump sitting there.

Turns out, whenever I choose my own happiness, it only causes problems for everyone around me, and I get branded as selfish for it. I’m not trying to replace Trevor with Jax. I would never do something like that. But what’s so wrong with giving my girls more love?

I blow out a shaky breath, trying my hardest to calm myself. But why? This is something I need to feel. This isn’t fair.

So, I give myself ten minutes.

Ten minutes to wallow. To feel my world crumbling around me and hate everything going on.

But after that, I have two daughters, and an amazing man, waiting at home for me.

A man who knew I needed him more than ever, dropped everything, and raced here without me even asking.

Because he wants to be here. He wants all three of us.

He doesn’t shame me for not being able to give him a baby the way I desperately want to.

Because he’s perfectly happy with the life we have now.

Something Trevor never was, and never will be with anyone.

Wow. It must be miserable, living a life where you can’t see a good thing when you have it.