Page 118 of Falling for Love

“Can I help?”

“Of course,” I said, standing and holding out my hand. He slipped his smaller one into mine, and as we walked toward the kitchen, I felt a flicker of determination spark inside me.

No matter what this envelope brought into our lives, I wasn’t going to let it take away the happiness and security we’d built together. And I wasn’t going to let anyone—especially not my ex—dictate what our future would look like.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Evie

Sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop open, I typed my ex’s name into the search bar, my fingers hovering over the keys for a moment before pressing enter.

A mix of dread and determination settled over me as I watched the search results populate. I hadn’t looked him up in years—not because I didn’t care where he was, but because I didn’t want to reopen old wounds. But now, with that letter threatening everything I’d built for Hayden, I couldn’t avoid it.

His name sat at the top of the page, connected to a public record listing. I clicked on it, holding my breath. The address was in Pennsylvania. I let out a sharp exhale, half-relieved he was far away but also furious at the reminder of how much distance there had been between us—physical distance, emotional distance, necessary distance.

Ugh.

I stared at the modest row house on the screen. It looked nicer than I expected. He’d always made a habit of crashing on people’s couches.

Typing in a few more things, I started to notice a pattern. I highly doubted that he had rented this home on his own. My best guess wasn’t that he couldn’t rent the entire house, which made me question his motives. Was he sleeping on the couch? Renting a bedroom? Did he have a ton of roommates? Where would Hayden fit in?

I clicked through a few more links, piecing together his recent addresses. Each one told the same story: a man who hadn’t put down roots, who was drifting from one place to the next.

This wasn’t surprising. He’d always been restless, always chasing some unattainable version of himself.

When we were together, he’d mask his insecurities with sharp words and manipulative comments, trying to bend me to fit whatever narrative he needed.

When I finally left, it wasn’t just for my sake but for Hayden’s. I wouldn’t let my son grow up under the weight of that toxicity.

The realization hit me harder than I expected.

He hadn’t changed.

Not really.

Yet here he was, disrupting our lives again with that letter. Anger simmered, and my fingers gripped the edge of the laptop.

What did he want?

I scrolled further, looking for answers that weren’t there. His life, as laid bare by these records, didn’t scream of a manready to take on fatherhood. It screamed of instability, of a person who hadn’t dealt with their demons.

And yet, here he was, making a claim for custody. Why now? What had changed? Had he even changed? The thought twisted in my chest like a knife.

I glanced at Hayden’s school picture on the fridge, his bright smile beaming back at me. My hand shook as I reached for the mug of tea next to me.

A bitter laugh escaped me. This man—who once made me doubt my worth at every turn—thought he had the right to walk into our lives and disrupt it all. But I wouldn’t let that happen.

Not without a fight.

I found solace in my job with the horses. I found myself again, gained strength, and channeled it to my son.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Kyle didn’t deserve to be in Hayden’s life—not after the way he treated me, not with the instability he still seemed to live in. He might’ve been part of our story once, but I’d rewritten that story for Hayden and me. And no amount of legal maneuvering or manipulative charm was going to change that.

Just so I didn’t have to pay for my attorney’s team to look everything up, I copied and pasted his previous addresses when a name popped up I didn’t recognize, but it was tied to him.

I quickly clicked on the female name and realized he’d gotten married.

And divorced.

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