Page 40 of Betting Brett

“I can’t breathe, Andy,” I manage to get out, my voice a shaky whisper. The square, with its familiar landmarks, is unrecognizable, a battlefield where I’m the enemy and the victim all at once.

“Look at me, Brett.” Andy’s voice is firm, pulling my gaze to his. His eyes are steady.

“I can’t do this, Andy,” I tell him, the confession tearing from me, raw and ragged. The threat of losing Izzy is a guillotine hanging over my head.

“Yes, you can.” Andy’s voice is unwavering. He’s my rock amidst the chaos, but the ground is shifting beneath me. The world is spinning way too fast. “You’re the strongest person I know, Brett. This is just a moment. It will pass. You know this. I know you know this.”

His words are a salve, but the panic is a forest fire, burning through any defenses I try to erect. I can’t see a way out of this.

“We’re in this together, Brett.” Andy’s voice cuts through the fog. “Izzy isn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m scared, Andy,” the words are a whisper. “What if I lose her? What if she’s taken from me?”

Andy’s grip tightens. “You listen to me, Brett, you are Izzy’s father. No judge and no court can ever change that.”

I nod. I take in the first deep breath I’ve been able to swallow since the anxiety spiraled. Then another and another. Until the town square comes back into focus, the shadows slowly retreating, the sun above shining with a renewed brilliance.

“I can’t lose her, Andy,” the vulnerability is a chasm, but Andy is a bridge, spanning the abyss with unwavering strength.

“You won’t,” Andy says. “I’m right here with you, Brett. Every step of the way. We’re a team, remember?”

As we walk back through the town square, the panic begins to recede, and logic starts to take hold again.

The panic attack has receded, but its echoes still vibrate through my bones. Andy’s hand is warm in mine, a lifeline that’s pulled me back from the edge of an abyss I hadn’t known existed until tonight. The town square is still bustling. I recognize faces smiling back at me, neighbors and friends, none of them hating me because of the man who stood hand-in-hand next to me.

We walk in silence for a few moments, the cool air soothing. The quaint shops and cozy cafes that line the square are host to cheerful displays showcasing local crafts and baked goods.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” I confess, my voice still shaky. The vulnerability is a raw, open wound, but with Andy, it feels safe to expose it.

Andy squeezes my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “It’s okay, Brett. Panic attacks can happen to anyone, especially with the kind of stress you’re under.”

I nod, the words a small comfort against the enormity of the fear.

“I can’t lose Izzy, Andy,” I say again, the words a mantra, a plea to the universe to spare me this one cruelty. “She’s my world.”

Andy stops and turns to face me, his eyes searching mine. “You’re not going to lose her, Brett. We’ve got one of the best lawyers, and the truth is on our side. Your mother can try whatever she wants, but she won’t succeed.”

I want to believe him, to let his confidence infuse me with strength, but fear is a persistent enemy.

“I’m just...” I pause, struggling to put the overwhelming emotions into words. “I’m just so scared, Andy.”

Andy pulls me into his arms, his embrace instantly soothing me. “I know, babe. I know,” he murmurs. “It’s okay to be scared. But just think, this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over, and Izzy will still be right at home where she belongs.”

I let his words ease my worry, and more importantly, I let myself believe them. I pull back, looking into Andy’s eyes. The belief in his words and in a happy ending only gets stronger “We’ve got this,” Andy affirms.

“We’ve got this,” I echo. Hand in hand, we finish our walk. As we reach the truck, I turn to Andy.

“I love you, Andy,” I say.

“I love you too, Brett,” Andy replies, and he smiles like the sun. I look down at him, and the first real calm of the week surrounds me. It’s all going to be okay.

23

Andy

Morningbreaksintotheroom at a slow pace. Brett is gently snoring next to me, his leg over mine. It’s peaceful—a moment I don’t really want to interrupt. I lie there for a while, watching him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the small twitches he makes in his sleep. But I can’t stay in bed forever. Especially not today, one of the most important days of our entire lives.

I slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, and make my way to the kitchen. The house is mostly silent, although I can hear Jen getting ready in the guest room. Izzy is likely still knocked out, she’s already starting to sleep like a teenager.

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