𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞

Is it physically possible for your heart to tear through your chest if it beats hard enough?

The logical, and medically trained, part of me knows the answer is no. And yet, I'm still convinced it's about to happen, anyway. But that's anxiety for you. Especially when you're sitting alone in a courthouse lobby.

My hands won't stay still, running along the sides of my jeans over and over until the friction burns my palms. I clench my fists to make them stop, then slowly lace my fingers together and press them into my lap.

I take a slow breath.

Inhale the good, exhale the bad. Inhale the good, exhale the bad.

I repeat the mantra like it's gospel, hoping that saying it enough will make everything better somehow. But the truth is? This could be the exact opposite of better. This could be catastrophic.

I could lose... everything.

My girls are the very reason I breathe. My reason to get out of bed and keep pushing forward on days I just want to disappear. If I lose them...

Suddenly I'm hyper-aware of everything around me. Like the way this old, wooden bench is uncomfortable no matter which way I turn. The air smells... funny. Like a weird mix between rusty metal from the ancient heaters, stale coffee, and—is that alcohol?

I turn slightly and spot an older man sitting on the other side of the bench. Not close enough to make me uncomfortable, but enough that I can tell the smell is definitely coming from him.

His head is tilted back, eyes closed while his wiry beard nearly dips into the pocket of his coat. My eyes linger on him a little longer than they probably should, but I can't look away. My mind races with so many questions that just aren't my business. Like if he's here because of a legal obligation, or if life hasn't been kind to him and he just needs somewhere warm to sit. Does he have a family somewhere that's worried sick about him?

But then I realize these are just selfish questions that I haven't been able to shake since I was Charlotte's age.

Pull yourself together, Allie.

He shifts slightly, and my eyes snap back to the floor. I run my hands down my face, trying my hardest to shake at least a fraction of the nerves running through my veins. I've only been here for maybe five minutes and I wouldn't be surprised if the security guard thought something was wrong with me. I'm so fidgety, but I honestly can't help it.

I've tried.

But all I keep thinking about is if Trevor is going to try and belittle me again. Or maybe tell the mediator how terrible of a mom I am, just like he did with the first judge we saw three months ago.

She thankfully dismissed everything the second Trevor opened his mouth—probably smelling the bull oozing from his pores. But what if this time it does go to trial? What if the next judge actually agrees with him?

The thought alone makes my heart race, matching the speed of my bouncing knee.

God, I need a distraction. Anything to keep my brain from spiraling into every worst-case scenario. Although, it's a little too late for that. Any rational thought I came here with was swept away in the wind the second I opened the door.

At least one thing I don't have to worry about right now is the girls. The memory of them forcing Jax into a seat at their table to have a tea party flashes in my mind, and I smile.

He really is just a gentle giant. A six foot tall man, covered in tattoos, who jumps the second those girls ask him for anything—and I mean anything.

Tea party? They don't even have to ask since he's already gathering their plastic set he got them.

They want to paint his nails bubblegum pink and give him pigtails? He doesn't hesitate to park himself on a stool.

He doesn't care about looking like the frontman of a literal metal band. He cares about making both of those girls laugh, and making them feel seen and heard. Watching him love them like they're his own is probably the most attractive thing I have ever witnessed in my life.

And yet... someone wants to rip that away.

The revolving doors spin, making my heart jump into my throat. I look up and see Trevor walking inside with his new girlfriend attached to his hip like a leech.

Except she doesn't realize that soon enough, he'll be the one sucking the life out of her.

They pass through the metal detectors, and I try not to stare, but how can I not? This is the man who's trying to take my babies? How did I not see this coming from a mile away?

The way he holds himself alone makes him look like an arrogant prick. Shaggy blonde hair that almost matches my bench neighbor. A stupid blue checkered jacket with the faux fur collar and a small rip on the left pocket.

Come to think of it... I'm pretty sure I bought him that ugly thing.

Then a smile tugs at the corner of my lips at the irony, and I'm finally realizing something I should have known a while ago.

I got this.

I have nothing to worry about when it comes to a decision between Trevor or me taking care of our girls. I've been there since day one. He hasn't.

I was the one paying for everything in the end, not him. All those sleepless nights when the girls were sick, making sure their birthdays were taken care of, and every single doctor's appointment, and teaching them to be nothing but kind and thankful for what they have. That was all me.

They sit on the opposite side of the room, completely ignoring the instructions I know we both got to check in at the front desk.

I glance at the clock on the wall. Only a few minutes left.

I clear my throat. "Y-you need to check in at the desk," I say, forcing a small smile and gesture toward the window.

They both turn to face me, and I shrink from the way they both glare at me like I'm a walking disease. His girlfriend leans over and whispers something in his ear that pulls a smirk from his lips.

My cheeks start to burn, but why should I feel embarrassed? I'm the only one being civil here. They're the ones acting like we're still in high school, and I'm just the weird girl in the corner.

It's like my life is a soap opera and people are watching this, shoveling popcorn in their mouth while sighing, Poor little Allie. The feeling of being an outcast slowly creeps in, but I swallow it down and straighten my posture instead.

A door opens to my right, and a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a matching beard opens a nearby door.

"Allie Windsor and Trevor Monroe?"

I stand, grab my purse, and move toward the door just as Trevor and his girlfriend do the same.

Wait... why is she going inside? The paperwork clearly said only the two parents were allowed—hence why Jax isn't here with me.

That and the thought of sticking Jax and Trevor in a room together doesn't sound like a bright idea.

The man raises an eyebrow. "Which one of you is Allie?" he asks, waving a slender finger between the two of us.

I raise my hand sheepishly. "That's me."

He nods, then turns to the she-devil. "Ma'am, you'll have to wait outside. This is for the parental parties only."

She glares at me like she's trying to set me on fire with her eyes, but thankfully walks off when Trevor whispers something to her.

When we walk inside, the small room has a round table in the center with only three chairs—one at the head, and two on either side. Which means Trevor and I have to physically face each other. Without tearing each other's eyes out.

I take my seat on the mediator's left side, then place my hands nervously on my lap as my heart screams in my chest.

"My name is Mark, and my role is not to take sides, but to help you work toward a plan. This isn't about winning or losing. It's about what's best for your girls," he says, laying two manila envelopes and a notepad in front of him. "Today we will focus on what your current schedule is, what your concerns are, and your hopes for the future. Remember to only speak to me, not to each other, and no interrupting. Understood?"

We both nod slowly, giving tight-lipped smiles.

"Trevor, would you like to start?"

He scoffs, arms crossed tightly at his chest. "I want full custody. I don't think fifty-fifty is good for the girls. They need stability."

I raise an eyebrow, trying my hardest not to cut in already, but is he serious right now? Stability is what the girls already have.

"Can you tell me why you feel it's in their best interest to be with you full time?"

"Because I'm not the one dragging them into a life full of drugs or whatever the hell else rock stars do," Trevor says. "They need parents, not overgrown teenagers pretending to be adults."

I raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Let's stay on track, please," Mark interjects, reaching out a hand. "Allie, what are your thoughts?"

I shake my head. "I'm open to sharing custody. I'm not here to fight him, I just won't give up my rights as their mother. I've been there through everything—"

"Until you weren't," Trevor interrupts.

My words become lodged in my throat.

"Trevor, please let her finish," Mark says, then writes a note down.

I stammer, then turn to Mark again. "I've been there for our daughters since day one. I've taken one vacation since they were born—and it was during his time with them. That's what he's really upset about."

"What does your current parenting plan look like?" he asks, pen at the ready.

"The girls live with me primarily, and they're with Trevor during the summer," I say quietly. "It's not perfect, but it worked for us."

"Yeah, until you got distracted," Trevor mumbles under his breath.

"Can you be more specific, Mr. Monroe?" Mark asks without looking up from his notepad.

"Let's just say she has other priorities these days," Trevor says pointedly, and I can feel his glare burning into me.

"I'm not talking about my personal life unless it becomes relevant," I say sternly, refusing to meet his eyes.

"If either of you has concerns about the other's home environment, that can be discussed. But it needs to be based on facts, not assumptions," Mark says, shaking his head.

Neither of us says anything, because what can Trevor say about that? Everything he has is based on assumptions. He's had one conversation with Jax and didn't bother coming to me about anything. He ambushed him in a waiting room after my accident and fired off questions like it was an interrogation.

That's all he has.

"Alright, we'll stop here for today. Between now and our next meeting, I'd like you both to seriously think about what these girls need. And I don't mean where they sleep, but how this could be affecting them. Next time, we'll talk more about schedules and decision-making. But if we can't reach an agreement by then, you guys will have to meet with the judge."

"I'll think about what's safest," Trevor says, his eyes pinned on me like I'm a bug he wants to squish beneath his boots.

"Maybe think about what's fair, too," I mutter under my breath.

Trevor's hands slam down on the table, hard enough to rattle the mediator's coffee cup.

"You want to talk about what's fair?" he snaps. "How about the fact you're trying to steal my daughters to go play house with your new boyfriend since you can't give him a baby? How's that for fucking fair?"

I stare, wide-eyed, as he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

And suddenly I can't think of a single good reason why I ever loved him.

How could he be so cruel? How can he think this lowly of me that I would do something like that?

The sound of a pen scratching across paper cuts through the air. My hands shake as I reach down for my purse, fingers fumbling with the strap. I quickly gather it, and hug it tightly to my chest like it'll somehow protect me.

Without a word or a second glance at the mediator, I pack up and hurry out to my car, shutting the door behind me with a firm click.

I don't even get the key in the ignition before the tears start to fall. My throat is so tight, I can't swallow past the lump sitting there.

Why is it that every time I'm finally happy, someone has a problem with it? As if my happiness somehow makes me the selfish one.

I'm not trying to replace Trevor with Jax. I would never do something like that. But what's so wrong with giving my girls more love?

Why is it okay for Trevor to be with the she-devil, but the second I find a kind, genuine man who loves me and my daughters, it suddenly feels like a crime?

I blow out a shaky breath, trying my hardest to calm myself down. But why? This is something I need to feel. This isn't fair. Anyone would be upset about this.

So, I give myself ten minutes.

Ten minutes to wallow. To feel my world crumbling around me and hate everything going on.

But after that?

After that, I have two daughters—and an amazing man—waiting at home for me.

A man who knew I needed him more than ever, dropped his recording and raced here without me even needing to ask. Because he wants to be here.

He wants all three of us.

He doesn't shame me for not being able to give him a baby the way I desperately want to.

Because he's perfectly happy in this life that we have now. Something Trevor never was, and never will be with anyone.

It must be miserable living a life where you can't see a good thing when you have it.