Stepping away, I gave him my back, a new resolve coursing through my veins, making me stronger than I had ever been before.

“You’re a fucking joke, Charlotte,” he called. “You’ll be lucky to get visitation after this shit.”

Any other day, his words would have destroyed me.

But, right then, I had bigger things to worry about than Brady throwing yet another hissy fit.

First being to escort my son up to Pediatric ICU and discuss his current state with his cardiologists.

Second being to contact my attorney and give her a heads-up on Brady’s latest threats.

Third being to get Porter out of jail.

And last being to suck in a deep breath and remind myself that I had too many reasons to live to shut down again—no matter how hard it got.

Two hours later…

“Get him out of there, Tom.”

“Charlotte, honey. It’s not that easy.”

After pulling the sweater my mother had brought me tight around my shoulders, I crossed my arms and began to pace up and down the hospital hallway. “Then make it that easy.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, but I can’t in good conscience help Porter Reese.”

I stopped and leveled my gaze on his. “Then you have no business here. Feel free to leave.”

“You are my business,” he clipped. “And you’re not making smart choices.”

I marched over to him, and then, careful to keep my voice low, I seethed, “I was never your business. You got assigned to a case of a missing baby.” I stabbed a finger at Travis’s hospital room. “That means that little boy is your business. So, by all means, walk your ass in there and tell him you aren’t going to help his father get out of jail because you feel like maybe, just maybe, Porter outsmarted you at some point.”

He glared at me. “That is not what this is about. This is about you being so blinded by your heart that you can’t even see the truth.”

“You’re right!” I whispered. “I am blinded by love.” I planted my hands on my hips and leaned in close. “Love for my son. When he wakes up and Porter isn’t standing at that bedside, it’s going to crush him. And there is nothing I won’t do to prevent him from feeling even an ounce of heartbreak.”

He cocked his head to the side. “And what about you? You love Porter?”

Defiantly, I held his stare. “Unquestionably.”

He clamped his jaw shut and ground his teeth. “You’re just going to forget that that man raised your son for the last however many years? That he married the sociopath who stole him? That he pursued you knowing he had your son? He played you then. And, now, he’s playing you again to keep that boy in his life. I don’t doubt that he loves that little boy. But I refuse to stand by and watch him treat you like a pawn in this little game of his.”

“He didn’t know he had my son!”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “So he’s said a million times.”

“You found nothing on him. The investigation has been closed.”

“Because we can’t get enough on the asshole to make a case. But that doesn’t mean he’s not guilty. Coincidences like that don’t just happen, Charlotte. For fuck’s sake, he was at your house the day the body of the real Travis Reese was recovered.”

“Travis Hendrix,” I corrected.

“What?” he clipped.

“That little boy whose body you recovered. His name was Travis Hendrix. And he died years before Porter ever entered the equation. You want to talk about games and pawns. Shit, Tom. Porter was caught in the middle of the ultimate chess match and he didn’t even know he was playing. Can we all take a step back and point the finger where blame really belongs? Catherine took my son.”

“I know that,” he grumbled.

“Can we also acknowledge that she had some pretty serious mental health issues?”

“No one is doubting that.”

“Then can you imagine how in the hell my son’s life would have turned out if Porter had not been in that picture?”

His eyebrows knit together as he cut his gaze away.

I inched closer and rested my hands on his chest. “Yeah, Tom. He’d be dead and you know it. The first time she got overwhelmed with his health and Porter hadn’t been there to talk her off the ledge, she’d have taken his life right then so she wouldn’t have to lose him again.”

“Jesus, Charlotte,” he whispered. “That doesn’t make what he’s doing to you okay.”

“What he’s doing to me?” I asked. “Let me tell you exactly what he’s doing to me, Tom. He’s making me happy. He’s making me laugh. And, even when I’m crying, he makes me feel safe. He makes me feel loved. He’s reminding me that the world is full of light even when you can’t see it. And, more than all of that, he’s shown me that there doesn’t have to be light for something to be beautiful. Love can grow in the darkness, Tom. I know this is true because of him.”

At the thought, Porter’s warmth enveloped me. He didn’t even have to be in the room to soothe me.

Tom rested his hand on my hip and gave me a squeeze. “Charlotte—”

“I’m going to let you off the hook here. I know you think Porter is playing me. And, being the big tough detective-slash-father-figure, nothing I say is going to change your mind. But let me tell you this: If the way I feel with Porter is the product of a game, then I am willing to be his pawn for the rest of my life.” I sucked in a shaky breath. “He makes me happy, Tom. Remember that woman at the restaurant you and Mom saw a while back? The one whose face was bright and her laugh was loud?”

His face became impossibly gentle, and he swallowed as he nodded.

I stared deep into his eyes, begging for him to believe me. “He makes me that woman.”

He sighed, and his strong shoulders rounded with defeat. “For the record, I’m not okay with this.” He looked up, his eyes blazing with love. “But there isn’t one damn thing in this world I wouldn’t do to make you happy.”

I grinned in victory. “Including getting Porter out of jail?”

* * *

I was falling apart, pacing in that holding cell. It was nine the next morning and I still hadn’t been able to so much as call someone. The stench of piss and vomit from the guy asleep on the bench beside me was enough to melt my nose hairs, but that wasn’t why I was sick to my stomach. I had no idea how Travis was doing, where Hannah was, or how Charlotte was holding up. I had too many people depending on me to be stuck behind bars because of a worthless order of protection.

I’d asked for my lawyer no less than seven thousand times, but if anyone had heard, no one was acting on it. I was losing my patience. Well, what was left of it, anyway.

Brady Boyd had caught the brunt of me losing it. And, if it hadn’t been for the security guards, he would have been on the receiving end of me losing all of it. I hadn’t known that it was possible to hate that motherfucker more than I already did. Oh, but the minute he’d opened his mouth to Charlotte, a whole new level of loathing usually reserved for Catherine had opened up inside me. And the day’s emotional upheaval had manifested in rage. I’d have felt bad if the asshole didn’t deserve it. But, when he’d mentioned taking Travis away from Charlotte, I had known he deserved a whole hell of a lot worse than I’d ever dole out.

“Hey!” I yelled at an officer as he passed by my cell. “Any word on my attorney?”

“Yeah, I got word,” a quasi-familiar voice replied from the other end of the hallway.

I strained my head against the bars, hope spiraling inside me only for it to fall flat as Tom Stafford came marching toward me.

“Son of a bitch,” I mumbled under my breath.

According to Charlotte, Tom was not one of my biggest fans. According to every run-in I’d ever had with the man since the truth about Travis had come out, he hated me with a fucking passion. Either way, his being there was not a good sign.

“Not a single word,” he ordered when he stopped in front of me.