Page 119 of Passed Ball

I slip my phone into the pocket of my suit pants and follow Collin into the courtroom. I'm no stranger to wearing a suit and tie, but today, this one feels like it's strangling me as I step forward when the judge calls me forward.

The judge starts by acknowledging Kristy's absence, then Collin steps up to the bench and provides evidence documenting that she was properly served with legal paperwork outlining all the details of today's proceedings.

After some back and forth, the judge determines that all paperwork is in order and continues as planned without Kristy.

In theory, I was prepared for this outcome. Collin had walked me through exactly what would happen. But being here, learning that my daughter truly only has one parent, it's nothing like what I imagined. It's gut-wrenching. Bile crawls up my throat, and it takes everything in me to keep my breakfast down.

The rest of proceedings are a haze as the judge and Collin go back and forth before calling on me to testify why I'm seeking full custody. Even though I'm well practiced, I couldn't tell you what I say--if the things Collin and I rehearsed come out of my mouth.

Affidavits from Wilson, teammates, friends, even Tenley are shared.

And when the judge rules, signing the custody order, granting me full custody of my daughter, I blink back the tears. Kristy has thirty days to contest the judgement, but Collin and I both know that won't happen. She's made her stance clear.

Chapter 50

Vivienne

Stars scatter across the night sky, their quiet brilliance mocking me because my mind is louder than ever and my soul feels like it's being ripped in half.

All day, my heart has been in Denver with Xavier and Holland. I hate that he was alone today in court. When we spoke earlier, I could hear the exhaustion in his voice. I wanted to crawl through the phone and hug him. At the same time, my head is spinning over what I need to do here.

My feet swing dangle beneath me as the porch swing creaks. The rhythmic motion does nothing to soothe me. I'm alone out here with the gravity of everything I've been avoiding to keep me company.

Harlowe leaves in the morning--her suitcase already half packed inside--and I have two days left before I head back to Denver. Just less than forty-eight hours to face the conversation I've been pushing aside for far too long.

The festivities are over and I'm waiting for my mom to come out and enjoy the swing like I know she does every night, hoping I can get through this without making a mess of things. I let out a bitter laugh--the irony of it isn't lost on me. I've been carrying this uncomfortable truth with me the whole trip, too scared to disrupt anything or anyone.

Maybe I'm not as recovered from my people-pleasing ways as I'd like to believe.

The hinges on the door behind me squeak and I glance over to see my mom, still in the flowy maxi dress she wore to host hundreds of people for HarvestFest. She's still as beautiful as alway, her long dark hair with more pronounced waves than mine hangs loose down her back, gray woven through it, sparkling brown eyes, and two wine glasses dangling between her fingers.

"Mind if I join you, Stellina."

The nickname she uses for me, the same one Noni used for her, doesn't hold its usual comfort. "I'd like that." Any other night, I'd mean it. I love my family, but this resentment in my heart for my lost childhood is causing a rot that I can't continue to live with. The thing is I don't even know who owns the blame. It could just easily be me for letting this fester as long as I have. But I need to cut it out tonight. I want to go home from California with an open, unburdened heart. One that's free to be given.

"It's been so good having you home," she says, and I slow the swing so she can join me. "I wish Tenley could have come."

"She wanted to be here but school comes first."

My mom nods along and holds out the wineglass for me to take.

Taking it from her, I stall, saying, "Sometimes I forget how beautiful it is out here."

"It's the most beautiful place in the world to me, but I suppose Colorado holds its own wonder."

"Sitting out here, looking at the stars, makes me feel closer to Erica. There's not a day that goes by whether I'm here or in Colorado that I don't miss her."

My mother pauses with the wineglass halfway to her lips and then lowers it. "Losing Erica was hell. It changed us all. There's not a corner of this land or the houses on it that doesn't hold a memory of her."

"Sometimes I wonder if my life would've turned out very differently if she hadn't died. IfIwould've been a different person."

The wrinkles around mom's eyes deepen, and her lips pull down. "I think we all would've been different. She was a light in this family. The hole she left behind never fully healed and all of us have felt it for a very long time."

I rip off the Band-Aid. "Of course. And I'm not saying I was hurting worse than anyone else, but it changed me in ways that I'm only starting to realize. I was still a child, but I became a caregiver to a toddler. I threw myself into helping with Tenley--it was the only way I felt I could help. And it gave me a purpose. Something good in all the darkness. But it's like . . . after that, it became my job to take care of everyone. No one ever asked me if I was okay with it. I was a kid, Mom."

She looks stunned like my words are a physical blow. "What, no, you loved helping with the little ones."

Shaking my head I stand my ground. "I felt like I had too. And I let it go on for so long, speaking up felt impossible. I just wish someone would have asked, even once, if I was happy."

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