Page 39 of Scooter's Endgame
I am incredibly grateful to Beckett for his assistance in finding an attorney who can give me a fighting chance at keeping custody of Luke, but only time will tell justhowgood she is.
Easing out from under Beckett’s arm, heavy in sleep, I rummage through the pile of clothing lying in a jumbled heap on the floor. His T-shirt is the first thing that comes to hand, so I pull it on over my naked body, then pad down the hall to get a fresh pot of coffee going.
It’s going to be a long day, so I’ll need all the caffeine I can get to boost my flagging spirits. The gurgling of coffee as it brews is the only sound in the silent house. I stand watching the colors change in the sky as the sun continues to rise, marveling at the beautiful show Mother Nature puts on.
When it’s done, I pour myself a large mug and moan quietly as that first glorious sip hits. I continue to watch this morning’s spectacular sunrise as I savor each mouthful, as well as these few minutes of absolute silence before the insanity of today hits.
I’m almost done when I feel a strong pair of arms wrap around me, Beckett’s warm body snuggled up to my back. He places sweet kisses beneath my ear and on my neck.
“Good morning, sweet pea.”
“Hi,” I reply, snuggling back into his embrace, drawing strength and courage from his presence.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Much better than I thought I would, all things considered. You?”
“Like a log. You plum wore me out.” Stepping back with a chuckle, he gives my ass a light slap. “I need coffee, woman. The restorative powers of caffeine is all that will save me now, if I’m to be any good to you in court today.”
Surprise jolts through me at his words. “In court?”
“Er, yeah.”
“But it’s a workday.”
“And? You didn’t seriously think I would leave you to suffer through this on your own, did you?” Before I can reply, he continues. “I have a ton of vacation days due to me, and since there’s nothing big in the pipeline at the moment, the commander had no problem granting me some time off so I could be there for you.”
Tears well as I turn to look at Beckett. “I – I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Your support means the world. You’re doing so much for me – I have no idea how I’ll ever be able to pay it all back, but I’ll find a way.”
“You don’t need to say anything. And you certainly don’t need to pay me back. I’m just grateful I’m in a position to help.” He runs gentle fingertips down my cheek. Pulling me in for a quick hug, he says, “Now, let’s go get ready to slay today. Yeah?”
Nodding, I give him a quick hug, and, to his credit, he doesn’t prolong the embrace. Because Lord knows I’m a half breath away from a complete meltdown. “I’m off to shower and get dressed.”
“Yeah, same. I’ll come collect you from the cottage and we can travel in together.”
His words give me pause. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Beckett studies me, then nods as if he’s had an internal conversation and come to some conclusion that I’m clueless about. “As far as anyone knows, last night never happened – it did, and I’m thrilled it did, but no one else needs to know. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I am your employer – that simple.”
I mull over his words. “You’re right. And a lift would be great. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now scoot. We don’t want to be late.” He gifts me one of his heart-melting smiles before shooing me toward the door. “I’ll come over as soon as I’m done.”
* * *
My heart is poundingas the judge opens proceedings. She takes the attorneys through the opening of the case, the official interaction making my situation all too real now. Jeff’s representative, Terrence James, is cocky and aggressive, which does nothing to allay my fears that I’m going to be like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter in this fight to keep my son.
It does not inspire confidence in me.
Lindsay Seymour, my attorney, appears far softer spoken and less confrontational than Mr. James. All I can do is pray that she’s up to the task ahead because I’m fighting for my life here, albeit figuratively. Because, without my son, I have no life. He’s all I have – all I’ve had for the past six years.
The parties discuss the reason for the case, most of the jargon going way over my head, but none of which sounds good.
“Mr. James, are you ready to proceed?” The judge’s words jolt me out of my thoughts, my stomach clenching.
“Yes, Your Honor,” the man replies.
“Very well. You may proceed.”
