Chapter 14 Liam #2
The timing wasn’t right. We had one more hearing to get through, one more hurdle before the custody was permanent. I didn’t want to propose in the middle of chaos. Didn’t want her to wonder if I was asking because I loved her or because I was trying to strengthen our case.
But soon.
Soon, I’d ask her properly. Give her the wedding she deserved, the one with flowers and vows and Mia standing beside us. Give her the ring my grandmother had worn for fifty-three years, the one meant for the woman who chose this life.
Soon.
The third custody hearing felt different from the start.
We walked into the courthouse together. Actually together, not performing togetherness for the judge’s benefit.
Riley’s hand found mine without hesitation, our fingers interlacing, and she didn’t pull away when we passed through security.
Didn’t put distance between us when we entered the courtroom.
Mia walked between us, calmer than she’d been at the previous hearings.
She’d worn the dress she picked out herself, a purple one that matched the ribbon in her hair, and she’d practiced her answers in the truck on the way over.
Not scripted—just prepared. Ready to tell the judge exactly how she felt.
The evaluator’s report glowed. Mia’s grades had improved.
Her teachers noted increased engagement, better social connections, a child who was finally settling into herself.
The home visit had gone flawlessly. The psychological evaluation showed a kid working through trauma with support, making progress, thriving.
Thriving. The word appeared three times in the report. I’d counted.
Judge Morrison reviewed the documents with her usual sharp attention, but something in her expression had softened. When she looked at us over her reading glasses, I could have sworn I saw approval.
“The court is pleased with the progress shown,” she said. “Ms. Santos, Mr. Murphy, you’ve created a stable, nurturing environment for this child. That’s no small accomplishment given the circumstances.”
Riley’s hand tightened on mine. I squeezed back.
“I’m granting continued custody with a clear path to permanency.” Judge Morrison made a note in her file. “One more review in sixty days. Assuming no significant changes, we’ll finalize the arrangement.”
Sixty days. Two months. And then Mia would be Riley’s—really and truly and legally—forever.
I looked at Riley, at the tears she was trying to blink back, at the way she was holding herself together through sheer force of will. Looked at Mia, who had grabbed Riley’s other hand, who was grinning for the first time in a courtroom.
And I thought: I want to marry her for real.
Not for custody. Not for the ranch. Not for any of the practical reasons that had brought us here.
I want to give her a wedding she actually remembers. One where she’s not wearing a borrowed dress and signing papers in a judge’s office. I want to watch her walk toward me and know she’s choosing me, choosing this life, choosing to stay.
I want everything.
The thought should have terrified me. Six months ago, it would have.
Now it just felt true.
Todd was waiting in the parking lot.
He stood between us and our truck, arms crossed, that smile on his face that I’d learned to hate. The one that said he knew something we didn’t. The one that had probably preceded every blow he’d ever landed on Riley, on her mother, on anyone unlucky enough to be in his path.
“Think you’ve won?”
His voice carried across the asphalt. Riley went rigid beside me. Mia pressed closer, her hand finding the back of my jacket.
I stepped forward, putting myself between him and my family. Not as Riley’s fake husband. Not as part of an arrangement. As a man protecting the people he loved.
“Walk away, Todd.”
“Or what?” He laughed, but there was something unhinged in it. Something desperate. “You’ll call the cops? Get another restraining order? Those have been real effective so far.”
“You’re in violation of the existing order right now.” I kept my voice calm, steady—the voice I used on fire scenes, when panic was the enemy and control was everything. “You’re not supposed to be within five hundred feet of Riley or Mia.”
“Funny thing about those orders.” Todd took a step closer. “They’re just paper. Paper doesn’t stop anything.”
Riley moved beside me, her phone already in her hand. “I’m calling 911.”
“Go ahead.” Todd’s eyes never left mine. “By the time they get here, we’ll have had our conversation.”
“There’s no conversation to have.” I held my ground, kept my body between him and Riley.
He moved forward, one hand reaching toward Riley, and I reacted on instinct.
I didn’t throw a punch. Didn’t give him what he wanted—the excuse to claim self-defense or provocation. I just stepped into his path, caught his wrist before he could touch her, and held firm.
“Don’t.”
Todd tried to pull free. Couldn’t. I’d spent years hauling hose and carrying equipment and working ranch land. He’d spent years drinking, collecting disability, and letting his body go soft.
It wasn’t a contest.
“Let go of me.” His voice rose, attracting attention from people crossing the parking lot. “Help! He’s attacking me! Someone call—”
“Sir.” A deputy’s voice cut through Todd’s theatrics. “Step back. Now.”
I released Todd’s wrist immediately, hands up, showing I wasn’t the threat. The deputy—a woman I vaguely recognized from previous hearings—was already approaching, her hand on her radio.
“He grabbed me!” Todd pointed at me, face red, spittle flying. “I want him arrested! I want—”
“I saw the whole thing, sir.” The deputy’s voice was flat. “You approached them. You violated your restraining order. You attempted to grab the protected party.”
Todd sputtered. “That’s not—I didn’t—”
“Turn around. Hands behind your back.”
I watched them cuff him. Watched his face go from outraged to panicked to something darker as the reality set in. Watched him stumble as they led him toward the patrol car.
But before they got there, he turned. Locked eyes with Riley.
“I’ll see you soon.” His voice was quiet now, but it carried. “Real soon.”
The deputy shoved him into the back seat. The door slammed. And Todd was gone.
But his words hung in the air like smoke.
I pulled Riley close, felt Mia press between us, both of them shaking. Wrapped my arms around them and held on, right there in the parking lot, not caring who saw.
This was what I was protecting now. This woman who’d survived so much. This kid who was finally learning to trust. This family I’d stumbled into and fallen for and couldn’t imagine living without.
This was what I could lose.
The thought landed like ice in my chest. Because Todd wasn’t finished. That look in his eyes as they put him in the car, that promise in his voice—he wasn’t going to stop. Men like him didn’t stop. They escalated until someone got hurt or someone got arrested or someone ended up dead.
I held them tighter and tried not to let them feel me shaking.
That night, Riley fell asleep in my arms.
Her breathing evened out slowly, each rise and fall easing some of the tension she carried like a second spine.
The stiffness she’d brought back from the courthouse parking lot—shoulders locked, jaw tight—finally loosened.
She fit against me instead of bracing, and I felt the shift like a quiet decision.
I stared at the ceiling, at the slow crawl of shadows, and tried to still my thoughts.
It didn’t work.
I’d spent six years teaching myself not to want things. Wanting had always felt like an invitation—for loss, for disappointment, for the moment everything tipped sideways. If I didn’t hope, didn’t plan, didn’t picture a future, then there was nothing for the universe to take.
But holding her now, feeling the steady warmth of her, knowing Mia was asleep down the hall with the door cracked the way she liked it, I let myself imagine what came next.
Not just surviving.
Building.
A wedding that didn’t feel like obligation or compromise. Wildflowers instead of centerpieces. Vows we meant because we’d already lived them. Gran’s ring catching the light on Riley’s hand. Mia was in the front row, pretending she wasn’t watching too closely.
Years unfolding without bracing for impact. Morning chores. Firehouse shifts. Quiet nights on the porch when the world finally went still. Maybe more kids. Maybe not. Maybe just the three of us, and the knowledge that it was enough.
More than enough.
A future I could see clearly for the first time since Claire walked away.
I wanted it. All of it. And for the first time, I didn’t flinch at the wanting.
Then Todd’s voice cut through it.
I’ll see you soon.
The memory snapped sharp and sudden—the parking lot lights, the sound of Riley’s breath hitching, the way my body had moved before my mind caught up. The certainty in his eyes. The promise.
He was in a cell tonight. That didn’t mean much.
Men like him treated restraining orders like suggestions. Arrests like inconveniences. Bars and bail and paperwork were delays, not endings. He’d get out. He’d circle back. He always would.
My arm tightened around Riley without waking her. She murmured something soft and unintelligible, her forehead pressing closer to my chest, trusting without knowing why.
I stayed still until her breathing smoothed again.
Whatever it took, I’d keep them safe.
Whatever it costs.