Can I bring takeout over for the three of us tonight?
How was Beckett's day?
Just checking in. Please don't shut me out.
Why are you punishing me because I'm not ready to define this? Did your mother stopping by bring this on? Everything turned so suddenly.
Please talk to me.
Nothing. Not a word for almost a week now. My jaw tightens as I scroll back further, past the momenteverything seemed fine. The last message she sent was a simple "See you soon" with a heart emoji.
Now, silence.
I tap my finger against the desk, the hollow sound matching the emptiness spreading through my chest. Something's wrong. Something beyond the usual complications between us.
Is this her line in the sand? Did she crack? It's only been a few weeks since we got back on solid ground with each other. How could she expect I could jump in with both feet after everything? I just needed some more time to work through everything.
The custody petition sits in my desk drawer, ready to file. I'd planned to talk to her about it first, explain my reasoning, my fears. But each time I tried, the words stuck in my throat. How do you tell the woman you're falling in love with that you don't trust her not to take your son away?
I know that isn't really how I meant it. It's a safeguard. Specific arrangements are best for everyone, no matter what happens between us.
I drop the phone on my desk and press the heels of my hands against my eyes until stars burst behind my lids.
"Fuck." The word echoes in the empty room.
My stomach twists into a cold, hard knot. Why am I always a day late and a dollar short? Things were going so well. I thought we had time to work through this together.
I pick up the phone again, this time scrolling to Blake’s number. My finger hovers over the call button before I set it back down. What would I even say to him?Hey, by the way, I’ve been sleeping with your sister, and she’s avoiding me. Can you help me out? Oh, and also, did I mention Beckett is actually my son?
I push to my feet, pacing the narrow strip of carpetuntil the walls close in around me. The knot in my gut tightens with each step.
"Goddammit," I mutter, running my hand through my hair.
I know this pattern. I’ve walked too many clients through it. Silence is never neutral. It’s the first shot across the bow. The slow slide from relationship into litigation.
My phone vibrates on the desk. Margaret Harrelson's name scrolls across it.
I stare at the screen a beat too long before answering. “Margaret.”
“Warren.” Her voice is calm, low, with a thread of steel underneath. “I don’t normally call like this, but I didn’t want you sitting alone, stewing. I want you to know we still care about you. Janie may be my daughter, but you’re like a son to me. And you're my grandson's father.”
The words slam through me. My throat closes. Heat flashes behind my eyes, then drains just as fast, leaving me cold. The phone is slippery in my palm, my grip clumsy like I might drop it. For one dizzy second, I can’t breathe at all.
Fuck. She's told her family. Of course she has. I need to call Blake.
I swallow hard. “She won’t take my calls.”
“I know.” A pause. “She found a petition you drafted. She felt blindsided, Warren. Why didn't you talk to her before doing that?”
Shit. I had a draft copy in my pocket. It must have fallen out at her house that night. I had brought it to talk, but her day had been so crazy, I chickened out.
My eyes close. “I planned to. I just hadn't yet. Everything makes more sense, now.”
“That’s why,” she says gently. “She’s protecting herself and her child. That’s her instinct. It doesn’t mean shewants to cut you out. It means she’s scared, Warren. And I know you well enough to know that so are you.”
I lean against the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass. “I should’ve handled it differently. All of it. It was a lot all at once.”
“You’ve spent your life trying not to rock the boat,” Margaret says, her voice softer now. “It’s how you learned to survive after your own family turned their back on you. But sometimes not rocking the boat lets it drift out to sea. If you want Janie and Beckett, you’re going to have to steer. Out loud.”