Allie
I never believed in God.
My mother went to church. I stayed home.
She prayed, and I—well, I prayed too, but only to myself, quietly at night, asking that my girls would always be safe, always feel loved.
But my words were never sent to a “higher power.”
I’ve always believed we make our own miracles, rather than feeling the need to thank someone else when things work out. I’ve always found that strange.
Yet, a few seconds after Jax opened that front door, I almost started to believe.
My hand flies to my chest the moment I hear one too many footsteps scrambling inside.
“Mommy!” Charlie and Lydia shriek before their small bodies collide with mine.
For a moment, I can’t move. I can’t breathe. It takes me a few seconds to understand that this is in fact real.
I can smell their watermelon shampoo.
I can feel their soft, auburn ringlets pressed against both of my cheeks.
And most of all, I can feel their body heat radiating into mine, like it’s thawing my heart from the inside out.
My eyes cloud with tears, but through the blur I can make out Trevor standing in front of Jax, looking far more disheveled than usual. His blonde hair sticks out in so many directions it almost makes me dizzy.
Jax stands with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. They talk for a few minutes, voices low, until I notice Jax’s shoulders start to relax. When Trevor finally reaches out to shake his hand, I’m more confused than ever.
Charlie pulls away first, already bouncing on her toes. “Can we help decorate the tree? Please, Mama! Can Jax too? Is that my stocking?”
She’s so excited, bouncing so fast, it’s hard not to laugh. My eyes follow her every jump, while Lydia remains tucked tightly against me.
“Yes, baby, of course,” I tell her, though my gaze drifts back to the guys.
Jax runs a hand through his hair before accepting Trevor’s handshake, giving him what I like to call a bro hug—one arm slung over his shoulder with a quick, loud pat on the back. My eyebrows pinch together as I glance back at Charlie.
“Just give us a few minutes, okay, baby?” I say, rising with Lydia still clinging to me like a koala.
I inch closer to them, trying to stay out of sight but close enough to catch even a snippet of what they’re saying. That’s when I see it—
A manila envelope tucked beneath Trevor’s arm.
My heart lurches into my throat while tears sting my eyes. I can already feel the tremor starting in my hands.
“Did—did you?”
I can’t even get the words completely out.
Jax turns, clearly reading the panic written all over my face. His features soften as he tilts his head. Then, gently, he places both hands on my shoulders and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Why don’t you give me Lydia?” he asks quietly.
My chest tightens. Because I already know what that envelope means.
My grip tightens around her. “W-why?”
I can’t lose them. I won’t.
His hands slide beneath Lydia’s arms. “Trust me, love. Talk to him.”
Before I can think more of it, he slips Lydia out of my arms and walks past me, settling beside Charlie on the floor in front of the tree.
Then it’s just Trevor and me, standing in front of what used to be our doorway. And all I can think about is snatching that envelope and shoving him right back out the door.
Because I know why he’s here.
He’s here to get the rest of their things.
“Hey, Allie,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “D-do you mind if we talk in the kitchen?”
My arms fold across my chest. “Why can’t we talk right here?”
“Because it’s—”
“I’m perfectly fine right here.”
“Allie—”
“Oh, just say it, Trevor. I already know you won,” I practically spit. “That’s why you have the envelope—to shove it in my face. On Christmas Eve, no less. What kind of monster does that?”
He shrugs, sliding the manila envelope out from under his arm. “I don’t know, Allie. You’ll have to ask the courthouse that question because I’m not the one that won.” He holds the envelope out between us. “You did.”
My mouth falls open, my hand flying to cover it as my eyes stay locked on the envelope.
I won?
Relief crashes through me so fast it aches in my chest, and for a second I can hardly breathe.
The girls are mine. Fully mine. I don’t even know what to say—or what to believe. Wouldn’t we have gotten the papers at the same time? I know I didn’t receive anything.
“It feels kind of sick that the post office is even open on Christmas Eve,” he says, sniffling, and I can see how much this hurts him. And I hate to admit it, but it almost breaks my heart, because I know this feeling.
But he’s also the reason either of us had to feel it in the first place.
I jut my chin over my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
When we cross the entryway, Trevor immediately sinks into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. I, on the other hand, walk to the other side, busying my hands as I pour both of us a cup of hot chocolate that Jax and I made earlier. Thankfully, it’s still warm in the slow cooker.
His eyes never leave his hands folded in his lap as I slide the mug toward him.
I lean against the island, letting the heat seep through the ceramic and into my suddenly freezing fingers.
“Look, Allie… I-I’m sorry. Truly. I thought…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on his lap. “I don’t know. I guess I thought it would somehow help.”
I blink, my eyebrows pulling so close together they’re practically one. “Help?” I echo. “What do you mean, help? How could either of us losing custody of our daughters help anything, Trevor?”
“I thought it would speed things along,” he says.
“I honestly thought you were just starstruck. The second I saw Jax Owens—the same guy you basically drooled over for the last year of our relationship—standing in your hospital room, I figured this whole thing was some kind of fantasy for you. And that maybe if he wasn’t around…
” He trails off again, now picking at the edge of my table where a small splinter has lifted from the wood.
“That if he wasn’t around, then what?” I ask, completely baffled.
His eyes meet mine for a brief second before dropping again as he shrugs. “That you’d come back to me.”
Before his words even have time to register, the unmistakable sound of Ana retching echoes from the hallway.
I press my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing as Trevor’s face turns the deepest red I’ve ever seen. Even the tips of his ears are crimson—his one sign that shows just how embarrassed he is that Ana of all people heard that.
Then his revelation finally hits me like a blow—harder than the one I took in Boston.
I shake my head, holding up a hand. “Wait a second. You thought I would leave Jax and go back to you if you had full custody of the girls? After everything you put me through? What you put all of us through?”
“Well, that was the thought at first. But then things just… spiraled out of control. I—God, I screwed up.”
“What about Marissa? Where does she fit in any of this?”
His lips clamp shut.
“She left… didn’t she?” I ask softly.
He nods. “Yeah. She did. She figured it out when you passed out in court.”
My brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”
“Because I called the hospital like fifty times asking for an update, but since I’m not on the emergency forms anymore they wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Thank God I took him off after the accident fiasco.
Silence settles between us for a few minutes. Then footsteps enter the kitchen, and I look up to see Jax, his phone pressed to his chest. His eyes flick between us as he offers a tight-lipped smile.
“Hey… sorry to interrupt. The girls are watching The Grinch with Ana. I just have to step out for this,” he says, gesturing toward his phone.
I nod. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just Don,” he says, shrugging slightly. I catch his overly dramatic eye roll and can’t help but smirk.
He offers one last small smile before backing away from the kitchen, leaving Trevor and me alone again.
Trevor’s eyes are still nowhere near mine, but at least they’ve lifted a fraction, now resting on the mug in front of him.
“I really am sorry, Allie. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admits softly.
For the first time in months, I believe him. But I’m not sure if he’s sorry because his plan failed—or because he finally realizes how messed up it was.
“I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not,” I say, biting my lip gently.
I almost stop myself, almost avoid pouring salt in the wound, but I can’t.
“You put our daughters in the middle of something that could have seriously hurt them, Trevor,” I continue.
“Do you understand the pain that could have caused them?”
He nods, then finally meets my eyes. “I know. I… I can’t believe I did this either. I’m going to anger management and therapy starting next month. Six months, at least, so I can actually get it under control.”
I reach across the table, covering his hand with mine. “I think it’ll really help. You’re not a bad guy, Trevor. We know that.”
His shoulders slump slightly as he exhales. “Can we maybe go back to how things were? I get them for the summer?”
The audacity hits me like a slap. But then I remember—he’s still their father. And as much as it’s wrong to take their mother away, it’s also wrong to take their father away, especially when he’s trying to work on himself.
“Why don’t we take it slow? Let’s see how your classes go, and we can revisit it when you graduate before summer.”
He offers a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
He rises from the chair, hands dipping into his pockets for his keys. Then a sudden, impulsive idea strikes me, and I scramble from my seat.
“Do you wanna stay?” I blurt out, immediately kicking myself.
Trevor looks at me like I have ten heads, hand running through his hair.
“We can make cookies with the girls, decorate the tree, watch a movie. All of us together,” I offer. “I think the girls would really like that.”
“Jax would be okay with that?” he asks.
I nod. “I think Jax would be more than okay with it.”
Before we can say anything else, Jax steps back into the kitchen, phone still in hand. His expression is tense, unreadable, and I freeze for a moment, caught off guard.
He raises a brow. “Jax would be more than okay with what?”
“Oh… if Trevor spent Christmas Eve with all of us,” I manage, watching him closely for any sign he isn’t comfortable with it.
His expression softens slightly, just enough for a small, genuine smile. “I think that’d be really cool.”
Trevor beams almost immediately, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. “Do you guys want to tell the girls, or…?”
I shake my head. “You go ahead. We’ll be right there.”
“Okay,” he says, his smile growing by the second. “Thank you… both of you. You really don’t have to open your home to me.”
Jax shrugs, moving closer until he’s standing beside me. “Anything for the girls.”
There’s something in his body language. Something in his tone. A subtle tension under his smile that makes my anxiety slowly rise.
We watch Trevor slip out of the kitchen, and the moment he’s out of earshot, my eyes flick to Jax.
I turn around, sliding my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest. His hands circle me, wrapping me up and immediately warming every part of me that had felt cold.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper into his sweater. I look up, and he meets my eyes, but doesn’t smile.
“You’re due in July, aren’t you?” he asks.
The question catches me off guard. “Yeah… July 24th. Why?”
He exhales a long, slow sigh, and I can’t tell if it’s relief, worry, or something else entirely.
“Don called to let me know we’ve been chosen as a headlining band for Blackout Tour,” he says flatly, no trace of excitement for something so huge.
My eyes widen, my mouth falls open—all of it. “That’s amazing! That’s… that’s huge!” I gush, pride bubbling up from every corner of me. But for some reason, he’s not smiling.
Why isn’t he smiling?
I freeze, staring at him—and then it clicks.
“Wait… so you’re going on tour in February until April. Then Blackout?”
He nods, still quiet.
“Jax… how long is that tour?” I ask, my voice tight.
“Nearly three months,” he admits. “From the middle of June until the end of August.”
Three months.
The baby is due in July—
“We’ll be traveling all over the country for the whole summer,” he continues.
My chest tightens.
He could miss the birth entirely?
“A new city almost every day.”
I press my forehead harder into his chest, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but it’s useless.
“How will we…” I trail off, a lump forming in my throat.
“We’ll figure it out, Al,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s gonna be fine.”
Five months. Two tours. One due date.
And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.