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  "I'm sorry." The simple words from Kelsey meant a lot. "I liked her."

  "You know her?" Craig was surprised.

  "I met her at the wedding. Us girls hung around a bit." She shrugged.

  He hadn't expected that. He'd thought Kelsey might vaguely remember the blond bridesmaid, not that she had met Shay enough to form an opinion.

  "I wish there was more I could say." Kelsey seemed upset that she couldn't offer more to him. "But I can't change her decision. I hope she didn't upset you too much last night."

  "I sent her home."

  "Ah." That one word told him Kelsey had figured out some semblance of the situation. She might not know all the details, but she had the basics. "I'm really sorry. That's hard to do." She reached out and grabbed both his hands in hers. "But it's right. You're amazing and you deserve someone who will give you everything."

  Craig could only nod.

  This was maybe why he loved her. He could admit that now. He wasn't trying to steal JD's wife. He didn't feel the tug and need for her at all. That was all for Shay, but he loved Kelsey. Just like he loved the guys. She truly believed he was worth someone's everything.

  Just then, Daniel came running out. "The puppies have to go outside. Can we take them?"

  Craig tugged his hands from Kelsey's, or he tried. She held on to him as she spoke. "You kids can do it. Take the scooper and clean up after. I'll be mad if I step in dog poo in my own back yard when I don't even have a dog!" But she tempered the instructions with a smile for her son and Daniel dashed off.

  JD appeared then in passing, never questioning that his wife was holding another man's hands. "I've got this. I'll just supervise, but I'll make sure it's all done."

  Something about the simple interaction cracked something in Craig. He'd seen them like this a thousand times before. From when they were first together, to when they were fighting and it almost broke JD, then for the last handful of years when they'd hit some harmonic balance between comfortable and unable to get enough of each other.

  Craig didn't want their life. He didn't need four kids with a fifth on the way. Two puppies were more than enough. But he wanted the shared chores, needs, support.

  It wasn't JD and Kelsey, he knew. It was him. Things inside him were breaking off and floating away. Anchors were being cut and he was being set adrift, free from his old ties and scars. It suddenly occurred to him that he wanted to keep them as his friends, forever. TJ was probably his closest friend. But JD and Kelsey were the best at being his friends. He saw that now. It was the first time he'd ever let himself think of forever. If he wanted to keep that friendship as solid as it was, she needed to know more.

  The room was theirs again. So he opened his mouth.

  "I was in a lot of different homes in foster care. Some were good, but not that many. And I just happened to miss having a birthday at any of the good places." He didn't know why he was telling this now, other than it seemed important. "The birthday party you threw me three years ago was the first time anyone threw me a party. Just for me. Not all the June birthdays or anything like that. It was my first birthday party."

  Her mouth opened.

  Well, he'd shocked Kelsey after all. "I didn't know."

  "I figured. So I wanted to say thank you."

  "You thanked me at the time." She pushed a still-shocked grin at him, but offered no pity. He loved her for it.

  "I know, but I thought you should understand it was a bigger thanks than it maybe sounded like." He sighed. "I wish I'd had someone like you for a mother."

  Her mouth opened and her face crumbled as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Kelsey sniffed in, a great gulp of air as though she was surfacing from a deep dive.

  "Don't cry!" He commanded, panicking. "It was just a thank-you. Why are you crying like that?"

  "Because." She gulped again. "I'm pregnant! You can't say things like that to pregnant women and expect us not to cry." She started to get it under control. "You can't bring us pizza and expect us not to cry. I cry at commercials. I cry at country music."

  She was grinning by the time she finished and so was he.

  "You are married to the wrong man then." He commented and she cracked up, the tense moment gone as she tried to laugh and wipe her face at the same time.

  She took his hands again. This time her eyes were rimmed in pink, the remnants of her bout of tears. "I hate to say this, but if Shay can't be with you, then I'm glad you sent her off. You deserve everything. It's your turn. And I hope you find it."

  Yes, he thought. He should thank Shay for starting the cracks that opened him up, but he needed everything. He needed more than she could, or would, give. This time nothing cracked. Something fused together, and with it, the drive came. He was going to find it.

  Chapter 24

  Shay sat at the conference table, nervously twisting the water glass in front of her. If she paid attention, it would ride around the glossy surface in the ring it had sweated there.

  Reaching out, Wilcox stilled her hand. "We've got this. If he refuses, we'll crush him in court. No worries."

  But she worried.

  She needed to be here. Needed to show her face, maybe answer some questions. Mostly, she needed to—wanted to—put on a good front and show Jason that he didn't have any hold over her any more.

  Wilcox was young, but very competent. Each day Shay sent up a prayer of thanks to Craig for finding him, let alone paying for him. The lawyer was an animal when it came to kids’ rights. He made no bones about the fact that he'd grown up in foster care, that he'd been beaten and molested. He'd graduated high school and been dumped unceremoniously out of the system on his eighteenth birthday.

  Apparently, Parker Wilcox had it worse than she had, and he'd had his shit together better than she had, too. Because he'd made sure he had a summer job and a friend's couch to crash on. Then he'd enrolled at the community college, gotten an A.A. degree, earned a scholarship to finish his bachelors at a prestigious university and went on to law school from there.

  Given his past, he trusted his gut when it came to parents. He charged an arm and a leg, and told Shay that he would have taken her case for what she could pay. The more he learned about her exes, the more he'd been willing to take her on for anything. Not that it mattered. He had Craig's money.

  Wilcox had sat her down and told her he needed a few things from her. He requested paperwork, DNA testing, and more. But he'd also said she owed him. She was never to marry another man like either of her exes again. Then he said if she found herself in a bad situation she was to come to him so he could get her out. He made her agree to those terms and swear it on her children's lives—because that's what was at stake, he said. She believed him. He was a pit bull.

  So she sat here in her best pantsuit. Actually a nice one from fine fabric, even though she'd found it at a cheap resale shop. She was trying not to look nervous.

  Tapping her hand again, Wilcox said, "If you can't find your backbone, find your anger. Think about what he did. Each time you go to open your mouth, think about every time he left your kid high and dry. Think about the awful things he said to you. And let it bleed through a little."

  Shay nodded at him just as she heard the shuffling of voices in the hall. She glanced at the watch she'd strapped on this morning, only now noticing that the gold was rubbing off in spots. Cheap. But no worries, Jason was late.

  Her ex-husband sauntered in, followed by his lawyer who looked as slimy as he did. Though Jason wore a pinstriped navy blue suit, he still looked like a low-rent player. With a smooth style he'd clearly practiced, he shrugged out of the jacket and rolled his sleeves up.

  Wilcox stood up and shook their hands, "Welcome, gentlemen."

  Shay almost snorted at the term, but kept her head ducked and stayed seated. Briefly, she looked up to see Jason smiling as though he had this in the bag.

  Fear shot through her heart. What if he won? What if he refused the deal Wilcox was laying out for him? That would be stupid, bu
t Jason was only above average in charm and smarm. So it was reasonable for her to believe he might refuse it, putting her and Owen through the nastiness of a now unnecessary trial.

  Wilcox put a gentle hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see a feral smile cross his lips. Then she remembered: every time Jason had ignored Owen, ripped his book up because he didn't approve, called and told her to tell his son that he wasn't coming. She turned and stared him in the eyes, her expression flat.

  Jason pulled back a little from her glare, and she realized that she had some power over him after all. She should have pushed him out of her house and backward down the steps each time he'd shoved his way in through her front door. He would have threatened her, but she should have looked him in the eye and said, "Bring it, asshole."

  So now she let her steady stare do the talking for her. Wilcox had told her not to initiate conversation with Jason, or even respond if her ex tried to start anything.

  "I'm glad you made it today. I was beginning to think you weren't going to show." Wilcox threw out the first barb, and Shay watched the other lawyer come to life.

  The man sighed, offhandedly introduced himself to her as "Miller" as though he was doing her a favor. "It's just an initial offer. We're only here as a courtesy."

  What a dick. She wished she had an Erin Brockovich move up her sleeve, so she could say, "We had that water brought in just for you." But she didn't have one. Wilcox did though.

  "It is just an initial offer." He unbuttoned his suit, making a show of getting comfortable. "But it's one I hope you'll thoroughly consider." He smiled as though offering them tea.

  Jason looked at Shay, his eyebrow raised, "You can't win this, babe."

  Feeling some new steel in her spine, and even though she knew she wasn't supposed to speak to him, she did anyway. "Watch me."

  Wilcox gave her an approving look then started in. "Let's open with the results of the DNA test." He flipped a sealed envelope to the other side of the table. "That's your copy."

  Jason shrugged. "Kid's mine. Have you looked at him?"

  Wilcox nodded. "Do you remember what you did to your wife? Would you like to pony up the money you collected passing her to your friends? She didn't see a dime of it."

  Jason's lips pursed, but he returned volley without acknowledging the charges. Typical Jason. "The kid's mine."

  Wilcox only tipped his chin at the envelope. "Open it."

  Jason did, his hands shaking as he read that he wasn't the father of the child in question. "This is a lie. It's a mistake. What shoddy company did you send this to?"

  Wilcox flipped a second sealed envelope at him. "Yeah, we thought you might suggest that. Remember that second swab we made you pony up? It went to the same facility that the FBI uses. Shockingly, they got the exact same result."

  Jason's lawyer put his hand on Jason's arm, holding him back before he exploded. "How do we know you used the right swab?"

  "Here you go." Wilcox opened the file and pulled two pages from the top. "For the first swab, his teacher at school as well as the school psychologist, principal, and two police officers verified Owen's identity, along with a notary. Want to ask who was present for the second swab?" He plucked a page and waved it in the air until the other man refused to look.

  The DNA was a done deal. Wilcox had told her that's where he was headed first. The other lawyer then went on the offensive. Though Shay stiffened at first, she forced herself to relax. Wilcox hadn't batted an eye yet. So neither would she.

  "So while your client has lied about the paternity of this child for six plus years, she's been conning my client into paying child support and investing his time and other money into the child." The smarmy lawyer shot back.

  "Stuff it, Miller." Wilcox shot out the first bit of anger from their side of the table. "She only DNA tested the child because I told her to. She believed Owen was this asshole's son all along, or she would never had turned her kid over to him."

  "She was in it for the money." Miller countered.

  "Yes, why don't we read the court transcript from the initial custody case when the judge awarded joint custody to Mr. Masters." Wilcox threw out a thick print copy bound with brads down the side. "Enjoy reading the fifteen minutes of Shay Masters—at the time—begging the judge not to let her child go with her abusive ex-husband. Read where she offers to forgo child support in exchange for custody. Read where she tells the judge what this man did to her."

  Miller made a show of flipping through the pages, but he didn't seem to care. "Her allegations of poor treatment are entirely hearsay."

  Jason started to grin.

  "True." Wilcox conceded with a smile. "But there's not a jury in the land who will buy the bullshit you're pedaling that she was lying about the child to get your money." He then turned to Jason and looked at him with narrowed eyes, as though trying to remember something. "How much money was that anyway?"

  Jason mumbled the disturbingly low number.

  "And how was that calculated?" Wilcox looked at the other two men as though he didn't know.

  When they didn't answer, he threw another blow. "And that hasn't been adjusted in six years? Even though your income has changed, you haven't claimed the increase. That's positively illegal."

  "You—" Jason's epithet was cut off by his lawyer grabbing his arm and pushing him back into the seat he was rising out of. Again.

  Wilcox flipped another page their way. This time he didn't even wait for the counter from the other side. "You can try to sue her for the money back, but since you haven't been paying it regularly, you'll be hard pressed to find a judge who thinks you deserve it. And, oh, you still owe her over ten grand in back payments."

  This time Jason looked at her. "Bitch."

  It wasn't loud; it was low and feral.

  Old Shay would have flinched. New Shay was on the winning side. Finally. "Yes. And proud of it."

  Wilcox played his end card, sliding yet another page across the table. "This is a termination of parental rights. I'd like you to sign it."

  "Not until I get my money back from that whore!" Jason nearly yelled it.

  "We'll take you for emotional damages, too, honey." Miller was talking to Shay, taking her for the weak link, but she didn't budge a bit.

  Wilcox actually had the balls to laugh out loud. "Look, you don't need to sign it." He looked at Jason. "Mr. Masters, this is just a formality. Your rights terminated the moment the DNA test returned negative. Your signature is just your agreement that you were here today, that you understand the results, and that you'll make no future claim on Shay or the child."

  "I don't have to sign it." He was on his feet now, shrugging back into the jacket to go.

  "No, you don't." Wilcox didn't get to his feet yet, so Shay stayed seated, too. She tried to keep her expression some cross of neutral and satisfied.

  Jason stared at her again, his venom even worse now. "I'll find the fucking sperm donor, and get him to sue your ass off." He seemed satisfied with his last gambit and he was almost at the door when Wilcox spoke again.

  "If anyone threatens Shay Leland for money or for custody or, honestly, anything related to the boy, I'll head to court with your records Mr. Masters." His voice was low, almost singsongy.

  Shay turned to look at him. Records? She didn't know.

  As Jason froze and the lawyer, Miller, tapped him on the arm as if to say "What is he talking about?" Wilcox went on.

  "I dug into your past. None of it's good. I have five women willing to testify in court that you pimped them out, just as you did to Ms. Leland. Want to go up against that?"

  "You have no proof." He ground his teeth and Shay enjoyed watching him squirm, even if she wasn't out of the woods yet.

  "Nope. But five witnesses with almost identical stories—six with Ms. Leland—is pretty damning. And I do have proof of your arrests for dealing meth from three years ago." He tapped his finger on new papers he'd produced.

  Shay looked over at the arrest warrants and d
ocuments.

  "It's done. I did probation for those."

  Wilcox nodded. "Yeah, but I have a PI on you, too. And you're still dealing. That's a violation of your parole."

  "You're violating parole!?" This time Shay jumped up, hands on the table, body leaning forward with fury. "You can't see him if you're on parole! You know that."

  Wilcox looked at her now. "Oh, you didn't know he was on parole? He also recently robbed someone at gunpoint. It's a violent crime." Then he turned to look at Jason pointedly. Though no one knew how he'd gotten that information, no one doubted him. Not with the expression on Jason's face, admitting the truth of all of it. Next, Wilcox stared at the lawyer. By his expression it was clearly dawning that he had no case.

  Shay was shaking with her own fury now. Jason had done all that while he had her kid on weekends? She couldn't breathe. Through the roaring in her head, she barely heard the next words.

  "I have a warrant for a blood test for you, right now." Wilcox pulled out another page. This one with a scrawled signature of some judge at the bottom. "Take the test or sign the paper."

  "This is making me sign it under duress!" Jason protested.

  But by then, even his lawyer was looking at him and shaking his head. "No, it's not. You're lucky they don't have an officer waiting to arrest you outside the door."

  With that, Jason tried to look out the slim glass windows bracketing the wood door. Shay sucked in air through her nose and tried not to look like she was gulping it. She was still furious, but a sense of satisfaction was starting to creep in.

  His lawyer looked at him and in a low voice said, "My legal advice is that you sign the papers. Or you'll be spending the next ten to twenty in prison."

  Angry, maybe as angry as she had ever seen him, Jason stomped back to the table and signed the page hard enough that the paper ripped. When he shot a smartass look at Wilcox like what are you going to do with that? Wilcox simply produced another copy and said, "Try again."