Chapter 9 #2
I’d failed my sister in ways I never had before.
I’d failed Junie.
“Please,” I begged, hardly recognizing my voice when it came out so weak. “She’s all I have left.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. “My mom. My aunt. My apartment. My job. My sis—my…”
The word got stuck in my throat, unable to keep going. A tear tracked down my cheek anyway, and I brushed it away, furious it had the audacity to expose how fragile I felt in this moment.
“I can’t lose Junie. I love her more than anyone on this earth, and—” My breath hitched. “I’ll figure it out. I promise.”
I glanced sideways at Ty, expecting him to gloat after his hard stance last night. Instead, his brow furrowed, his hand tightening in mine. He didn’t look surprised—but he did look worried.
“The timing of all of this feels unfortunate,” the judge said. “It’s almost always in the best interest to keep families together. Despite your circumstances, I don’t see a reason to keep her from you, Ms. Winslow.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, wiping at my cheeks again, giving him a gentle nod.
“But I also can’t dismiss the situation,” the judge continued, offering me a sad smile. I was getting sick of those. “The court will continue Juniper’s temporary placement with Mr. Hudson.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“However,” he added, and my heart snagged on the word, “per Violet Winslow’s last Will and Testament, she formally nominated both you and Mr. Hudson as co-guardians of Juniper.”
The words seemed to echo in the too-small courtroom.
“The court gives considerable weight to a parent’s expressed wishes,” the judge continued.
“While a will does not automatically transfer legal custody, it is clear Ms. Winslow intended for both of you to play active roles in her daughter’s life.
Given Mr. Hudson’s established relationship with Juniper and Ms. Winslow’s status as next of kin, the court finds a shared temporary guardianship arrangement appropriate at this time. ”
I frowned, staring over at Ty, trying to process the fact that my sister had named him alongside me. Sure, he’d gotten foster certified—maybe even preparing for something like this—but for Violet to have formally nominated him?
That meant she hadn’t been guessing.
She’d been planning.
Ty looked just as stunned as I felt, but the judge continued.
“As such, the court will grant temporary co-guardianship to both of you, effective immediately. Juniper’s primary physical placement will remain with Mr. Hudson for the time being, due to the stability of his housing and employment.”
The words still stung.
“Ms. Winslow,” he said, turning to me, “you will remain in Linwood for the next six weeks while background checks, home evaluations, and the primary caregiver assessment are completed.”
That caught my attention. “Six weeks?”
The caseworker nodded. “That is the standard review period. You’ll need to be available for home visits and to participate consistently in Juniper’s daily life.
The goal is continuity for Juniper during this time of grief and to determine whether a transition to your primary custody is appropriate. ”
“She’ll be living with me?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Given your current housing situation, Juniper will remain placed with Mr. Hudson,” the judge clarified, “but your involvement will be active and ongoing. Regular visitation, shared decision-making, and cooperative planning between the two of you. If your housing and employment stabilize, the court will revisit permanent placement at the six-week review hearing.”
Beside me, Ty’s posture shifted—shoulders straightening, chin lifting. While I sat there trying not to hyperventilate, he looked steady. Not smug. Not triumphant.
Just ready.
“Bi-weekly check-ins,” the caseworker added.
“No overnight removal from Eagle County without prior authorization. The two of you will be expected to work together to create a plan that serves Juniper’s best interest. She is a grieving child who has lost her mother.
Keeping her in a familiar environment, with the people she already trusts, is critical right now.
And Ms. Winslow—this is your opportunity to demonstrate stability. ”
My jaw clenched. Demonstrate stability. I wanted to tell her stable didn’t mean happy. Last week I had a roof over my head and a job that paid me okay, but I’d never been more miserable.
Well, now I couldn’t say that, because it turned out I could, in fact, be more miserable. But none of that mattered right now.
The judge looked between us. “Questions?”
I shook my head because nothing else I said would make a difference.
We signed papers until my signature looked like a toddler’s scribble.
Outside, the sun was too bright. The air too cheerful. I stopped on the courthouse steps, gripping the railing as if the ground might give out beneath me.
Ty paused a step below me, sunlight slanting across his face. Something about the way he looked at me made my chest tighten. It wasn’t pity or smugness. Just that quiet steadiness and concern that both grounded me and made me want to throw something at him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I laughed, sharp and too loud. “Oh, sure. Everything’s great. I have no house, no job, a sister that”—I swallowed down the word I couldn’t say—“and I just found out I’m co-parenting with you.”
His mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile. “So I’m number four then? Lucky number?”
I rolled my eyes and took a breath that didn’t do a damn thing to calm me down. “Did you know my sister’s house was uninhabitable?”
“I’ve been inside your sister’s house less than a handful of times.”
I frowned, even more confused why my sister had named him in her Will. “So how does this even work? I live next door in the construction zone? See Junie every other weekend? On the third Thursday of the month?”
Ty sighed, then brushed a hand across his mustache. “You live with me.”
My head jerked back. “What?”
His gaze stayed fixed on the mountains, like it was easier to look at the horizon than at me. “You stay in the guest room, and we just… figure it out. That’s what Junie will want.”
“I’m not living with you,” I argued, because my brain was already flashing red warning lights. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” he asked, finally looking at me.
I made a helpless noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Because it’s—you’re”—I gestured at him—“you.”
He raised a brow. “Me.”
“Yes, you. The guy with the house and the savings account and the whole good-citizen thing. You look like you’re an advertisement for responsible adults, while I look like I crawled out of a Goodwill bin.”
Ty said nothing. He just stood there, steady as ever. Which, frankly, annoyed me.
I threw up my hands. “What happened to doing things for yourself, Huddy? That was the plan, right? But now you have a savior complex, rescuing injured puppies, one-eyed llamas, and jobless, homeless, pathetic aunts.”
He came up one step, then another, closing the distance until my breath caught in my throat. I had to tip my chin up to meet his eyes, the world shrinking around us.
The sun was at his back, warm light catching in his hair, framing him like some kind of maddening, golden-hour cowboy fantasy. He was close enough that I could smell the faint trace of soap on his skin, the clean heat of him curling around the edges of my nerves.
“You’re not pathetic, Daisy.” His voice dropped low, quiet enough that the words landed like a hand against my sternum.
“I just spent an hour in a courthouse discovering how resilient you are with every piece of your story that unfolded. And yet, you haven’t let even one aspect of your struggles dim your light.
Who better to teach Junie how to dance in the rain? ”
My breath hitched.
Everything around me faded in the distance until all I could feel was him. His height, his warmth, his stupid, quiet steadiness pressing in on me.
Too close. Too much. And yet I didn’t step back.
This was the problem. Three years ago, our connection was instant. Undeniable chemistry that went beyond physical attraction. Every time I remembered him, it wasn’t how hot he was, although that didn’t hurt either. But it was everything else I couldn’t forget.
Maybe it was because that silly game of Truth or Dare had us laying our insecurities out to dry, baring the parts we’d shown no one else. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
No matter what it was, time hadn’t done a damn thing to lessen it.
I was too drawn to him, and this living arrangement would be six weeks of complicated I wasn’t prepared for.
“You’re awfully poetic for a guy who wears cowboy boots to court.”
He smirked, slow and infuriating, then leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “Don’t tell anyone.”
I let out a snort I didn’t mean to. And just like that, the weight pressing down on my chest lightened.
He turned toward the parking lot. “Come on. Emmy’s waiting. Junie’ll be ready to go.”
Junie. The world snapped back into focus, reminding me why I was standing here trying so hard not to unravel.
I followed him down the courthouse steps and to his truck, my heart still hammering against my ribs.
Six weeks of this.
Six weeks of trying not to stare.
Six weeks of pretending that spark didn’t exist.
Shit.