It’s Always Us (Abandoned Brothers #3)

Chapter 49

LEX

Mark pushes out the door, holding it for me. His hand slips into mine. It’s hot and a bit sweaty. I’m certain it’s from him clenching his fist for the last thirty minutes.

It’s been a week, but Linda’s court appearance was quick and to the point when her appointed lawyer had difficulty contesting the charges. Her years of sobriety couldn’t erase her former convictions, and she was sentenced to ten years with a possibility of parole.

We walk to the truck in silence, and he opens my door, helping me in. I sit for a second, letting the Braxton Hicks contraction do its thing. They’re coming more frequently anytime I have to do any amount of walking.

I’d take another contraction over the big, fat reminder that our request for permanent guardianship will be a long, drawn-out process. Mark’s evaluation was approved, and we are now joint guardians, but it wasn’t the celebratory news we hoped for.

“These things don’t happen overnight,” were the social worker’s exact words. As Mark circles the truck and climbs in, I know he’s trying to reel himself back from the past while watching his career come to an end.

He closes his door and pushes the start button.

“Hey.” I stop his hand from putting the truck in reverse. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t—”

“Have these people lost their damn minds?!” His voice is in that range that tells me to just let him go. “How can she retain rights? She had dealers squatting in the room next to Bree. She was cutting and stashing . . . ” He grips the steering, his knuckles turning white. “How the hell is this even in question?! The whole system needs some C-4 and a match taken to it. It’s complete shit! Her rights should’ve been obliterated when she showed up baked out of her mind and handed Bree over to you.”

His head tips back toward the ceiling, eyes closed, nostrils flaring. It’s all finally boiling over. I knew it would, and I’ve been waiting.

“She doesn’t have to sign over rights. I’ll fight. I don’t care how long it takes. I won’t ever let Bree go back to that. Lex, she could have been . . . ”

He groans in frustration, his jaw clenched tight, but the ache in his tone hits me square in the chest. It’s one thing to think about all that could have happened, but it’s another to have lived that life, and he did.

I inhale and let it out slowly, knowing I’m going to have the battle of my life on my hands. Mark needs football, just like Bree needs safety, security, and stability. I won’t let him walk away, not after everything, and not when he needs it.

I grab his hand and put it on top of my belly where a foot is wedged, threatening to bust my abdomen wide open.

“Please don’t give up,” I whisper. “I’ve never wanted you to have to stay here and . . . live in this.” I can’t bear what it does to his insides.

“To hell with football. I’m done. I’m not going anywhere.”

I can feel the fear rolling off him, backing him into a corner. Every past horror on one side, current circumstances on the other. The future and everything it could be, sitting just beyond—within view, but still out of reach.

“You’re not doing it without me this time. I’m right here. Bree, the babies, and I will be here. I’ll fly to games . . . ”

“It’s not enough. I’ve seen guys try that. It’ll never be enough for me.”

I won’t win this battle in the next five minutes, but I won’t quit fighting for him.

“I’m not giving up.” I bring his hand to my cheek. “I might not be very good at reading, but it’s taught me how to fight.”

He lets out a defeated huff. “Lex . . . I love you.”

“I know. I think somehow, I’ve always known.” His eyes draw up to mine, studying me. “It’s why I married you within an hour of seeing you again. ”

I smile. His beautiful dark eyes show me a hint of sadness. I love him so much. So much so I’m not willing to let this be the end of what has allowed him to survive.

______

“Pal, are you certain you should be doing this?” Grandpa leans over and whispers in my ear. It’s not often this man is uneasy, but I hear it in his voice.

I lower myself into the metal chair and let everything settle. “He’s not quitting. This is all I’ve got to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“He’ll lose his shit if he knows you came here. Then he’ll kick my old, wrinkled ass for bringing you.” Grandpa stands to the side of me, shoving his hands in his pockets while he surveys the surrounding tables.

There’s no sense in arguing because both are true. Mark might not actually kick Grandpa’s ass, but there will definitely be a long, drawn-out outburst we’ll have to sit through.

There’s a loud buzz, and Linda is led in, her hands cuffed, and her white jumpsuit making her olive-toned skin look pale. The officer leads her to the chair across from me, and she uses her foot to slide it out.

This isn’t the woman I used to have dinner with. Her eyes are set on the table between us, but there’s a hardness to them that I’ve only ever experienced once. The cold, absent stare makes me even more determined to get through to her.

Grandpa steps away, giving us a little privacy, but he doesn’t move far.

“How are you?” I ask the question I’m pretty sure I know the answer to.

“How’s Bree?” Her voice is soft as her eyes drag up to mine. Shame replacing the fierce avoidance.

“She’s . . . okay. She’s doing well in school and dance. Only a few more weeks, and then she’ll be out for the summer.”

“I remember.” She adjusts her hands in her lap, and I slide a picture across the table Bree drew that she’d be ok with me bringing.

Linda stares at it as moisture collects in her eyes. “Why are you here?”

I shift in the metal chair, trying to get comfortable when nothing is anymore. I get right to the point. There’s no sugarcoating it. “You’re likely in here for the next ten years. Bree will be an adult by then. You’ve given her years of happy memories to carry with her.” I pause, letting that sink in. “You’ve never given Mark a single one. You can change that.”

Her eyes morph back into that hardened, shutdown state. But I don’t care. Mark came back for me despite leaving and letting him believe I never cared. He put his heart on the line. He gave me a chance, even though losing would have likely broken his heart worse than the first time.

“You need to turn over your rights. Any day, Mark is going to get a call from a team wanting to sign him. He’s not going unless Bree and I go with him. This is your chance to put your son first. He needs to get out of here and away from everything that haunts him. Football saved him.”

I match her cold, guarded stare. “This is your chance to put him first. For once, do what you’ve never done for him.”

A tear runs down her sunken cheek. “And I’m just supposed to let you take off with Bree. She’s not yours.”

“Like it or not, she’s with us and will have a life full of love.” I pause. “ You are her mom. She’ll never forget that.”

An officer strolls over. “Times about up.”

Grandpa’s hand rests on the back of my chair. “He’s never asked you for a single thing, and he never will. I’m asking you. He’s suffered enough.”

Her hands raise together to swipe at a rogue tear, and then she stands. She grips Bree’s drawing and follows the officer without another word.

I slump in defeat.

“Come on, Pal. Your time is up, too.” He holds out his hand to help me up. “I went against all sound judgment today and brought you here. Now, you owe me a burger and milkshake without a side of lecture.” I roll my eyes at him as I slowly waddle myself out. “And if I’m in deep shit with Mark over this, you’ll be buying my milkshakes and burgers daily.”

I swing my arm through his, holding on tight. “You’re the best Grandpa.”

“Are you telling me that because you know I’m about to get my ass chewed by your hyper-vigilant husband?”

“No. I’m telling you because it’s the truth.” I squeeze his arm. “But you might have to deal with Mark’s overprotective, slightly obnoxious reprimand.”

“Awe, shit. I can’t handle that. I’ll have to move into the shop. ’

I laugh as he pushes the door open, and we make our way to his truck. “Do you think it made any difference?”

Grandpa’s eyes drift around the parking lot, and he shakes his head. “I don’t know, Pal, but you made one hell of a case. No mother could walk away and not think about it. Linda’s got a good heart. Shame, regret, no self-worth . . . They’re like gasoline in a Styrofoam cup. They’ll rot you from the inside out. It’s why she’s here.” He offers his hand to help me in. “But I have no doubt she’ll be doing a lot of thinking about both of her kids.”