Page 3 of Wrangled Love

His mom, Julie, is the principal at the elementary school in Bluebell, and she’s been wrangling kids longer than I’ve been alive. I may be in over my head, but if I trust anyone to steer me right, it’s her. The Halsteads were my haven as a kid, and I’m hoping they can help me navigate this new chapter, too.

I arrive at the Westbrook Law Group’s office building an hour later. The driver idles near the entrance as the weight of the situation settles over me. I take a deep breath, attempting to steady my racing heart before heading inside.

Following the directions from Tony’s assistant, I take the elevator to the twentieth floor. A woman sits behind the reception desk, her fingers a blur across the keyboard. The moment she spots me, her hands still, and she greets me with a warm smile.

“Good afternoon. What can I do for you, sir?”

“I’m here to see Tony. He’s expecting me.”

She gives me a quick nod and stands. “You must be Mr. Harding. Right this way.”

I follow her to the door at the end of the hallway with Tony’s name on it. She knocks twice before opening it, motioning me inside.

“Thanks,” I say.

“My pleasure,” she replies with a smile.

I step inside and spot Tony at his desk across the large office. His salt-and-pepper hair is combed to the side, and his shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit. He looks up, his expression solemn as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

He waves toward the chair opposite him. “Glad you’re here, Mr. Harding. Although I wish it were under better circumstances. Please have a seat.”

I sit down, crossing one leg over the other. “Has Caleb arrived yet?”

He nods. “He’s in the conference room with his social worker. I wanted to review a few important matters with you before we join him. I’ll make it as quick as possible.”

“I appreciate it.”

I understand we have to go over the logistics, but sitting here while my son waits in a nearby room makes me feel like I’m already letting him down.

Tony opens a desk drawer, takes out a thick binder, and sets it on his desk.

“I must admit, I’m impressed,” he tells me. “You move fast. I’ve been on the phone with your lawyer, Mr. Tate, a dozen times already.” He opens the binder, glancing down at the first page. “I’m not sure how he did it, but he got a judge to grant temporary emergency guardianship. You’ll just have to meet with the social worker and give her a virtual tour of your residence.”

“Does that mean I can take Caleb home tonight?” I question.

He nods. “As long as the social worker approves, I don’t see why not. A formal hearing will be scheduled in the coming months to grant permanent custody if all parties agree and the court finds it in Caleb’s best interest to remain with you.”

“You haven’t mentioned Amelia’s family. Are they involved?” My biggest concern on the way here was that someone might challenge my guardianship or petition the court for custody.

Tony shakes his head. “Her parents are deceased, and she was an only child.” He flips to the back of the binder, pulls out a document, and slides it toward me. “She listed a second cousin from Florida and a college friend as secondary guardians in case you declined, but we haven’t been able to reach them.”

“Has Caleb met either?”

“I don’t believe so.”

A sharp ringing pulses through my ears and a cold sweat breaks across my forehead. Even though I had made up my mind before coming here that I wanted Caleb, it’s hard to accept that he has no one else. Now I understand why he was placed in temporary foster care. There wasn’t another option.

Tony takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “There is one more thing I need to tell you before you meet Caleb.”

I straighten in my chair, my brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“He hasn’t spoken since Amelia was admitted to the hospital two weeks ago.” Tony’s voice falters, betraying the sadnessbeneath his professional exterior. “The social worker mentioned that some children stop talking as a way to cope with the trauma. Right now, his silence is the only thing that he can control. It’s likely temporary, but it could take time for him to trust that it’s safe enough to use his voice again.”

Tears sting my eyes at the thought of my son carrying his pain alone, too heartbroken to speak. The hardest part is that I may never know what Amelia told him about me or if she even mentioned me at all. For all I know, he thinks I didn’t want him or wasn’t interested in meeting him, which is the furthest thing from the truth.

“I’d like to see him now if I can,” I say.

“Of course.” Tony nods. “Let’s go to the conference room.”

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