Page 126 of Cannon
“Right this way,” Ms. Thompson said, opening a door to a conference room.
I stopped cold in the doorway. Sitting at the table weren’t just social workers, but Mia, Gage’s sister, and her husband Ivan. My blood turned to ice. I hadn’t seen Mia in years. Not since before I got sent away.
“What’s this?” I asked, my voice dropping low.
Ms. Thompson gestured for us to enter. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Price. As you can see, Mia and Ivan Winters have joined us today.”
“Aunt Mia!” Josiah broke free from my grip and ran to her. Hunter stayed glued to my side, his small fingers tightening around mine.
I moved stiffly to the table, pulling out chairs for Hunter and myself. “Nobody told me this was a family meeting.”
Mia’s eyes met mine, sympathetic but determined. “I’m sorry, Cannon. We tried to reach you yesterday.”
Ms. Thompson cleared her throat. “Mr. Price, I understand this comes as a surprise, but Mrs. Winters contacted our office immediately after learning of Mrs. Price’s passing.”
The room felt too small suddenly, the air too thin. I kept my face neutral, years in prison teaching me to mask emotions that could be used against me.
“I have something you need to see,” Mia said quietly, sliding a folder across the table.
I opened it, scanning the legal document inside. The words blurred together at first, then snapped into sharp focus: “Last Will and Testament of Gage and Reese Price.”
“Both Gage and Reese designated Mia and Ivan as the boys’ legal guardians in the event of their deaths,” Ms. Thompson explained. “The document was filed with the court last year.”
“That’s not possible,” I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. “Reese would have told me.”
Mia leaned forward, her voice gentle. “Cannon, I know this is hard. But Gage and Reese made this decision together. They wanted the boys to have a stable home with two parents if anything happened to them.”
I stared at the signatures on the page, Reese’s flowing script next to Gage’s blocky print. The date showed it was signed justmonths after I went to prison. When she thought I’d be locked up for years. When she’d given up on me.
“Uncle Cannon?” Hunter tugged at my sleeve, his voice small and uncertain. “What’s happening?”
I couldn’t answer him. My throat closed up as the reality crashed down on me like a collapsing building. They were taking the boys. My boys. The two innocent lives I’d sworn to protect.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Price,” Ms. Thompson said, her professional tone doing nothing to soften the blow. “While we appreciate your willingness to take custody, the legal documents are clear. The Winters are the designated guardians.”
I felt Hunter’s small body press against mine, seeking protection I couldn’t provide. My jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth might crack.
“This is bullshit,” I finally managed, my voice dangerously low.
“Cannon, please,” Mia said, her eyes pleading. “Not in front of the children.”
I looked down at Hunter, then at Josiah, who was now staring at me with confusion in his eyes. These boys had already lost everything. Their father. Their mother. And now they were about to lose me too.
“I can provide for them,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I have the means, the space?—”
“It’s not about money,” Ms. Thompson interjected gently. “The boys’ parents made their wishes legally binding. The court will honor those wishes unless there’s evidence the designated guardians are unfit.”
Ivan spoke up for the first time. “We want what’s best for the boys, Cannon. They need stability, routine. A normal family life.”
The implication hung in the air. A normal family life I couldn’t provide. Not as a single man. Not with my history.
“No!” Hunter suddenly shouted, tears streaming down his face. “I want to stay with Uncle Cannon! You can’t make us go!”
Josiah broke away from Mia and ran to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Don’t let them take us, Uncle Cannon,” he sobbed.
I knelt down, pulling both boys close. Their small bodies shook with sobs that ripped through me like bullets. I wanted to promise them I’d fight, that I wouldn’t let this happen. But I knew the system. Knew the weight of legal documents. Knew that sometimes, no matter how hard you fought, you lost anyway.
“Listen to me,” I said, my voice rough with emotion I refused to let break. “I need you both to be strong right now. Can you do that for me?”
