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“My anger issues. My anger issues? What about Joseph’s anger issues?

What about the way he tried to beat the sin out of me my whole life?

What about the time he caught Gigi getting close with another girl at church and made her watch as he kicked the shit out of me as her punishment?

What about Rebecca and the way she sat back and watched it all, or the way she “comforted” us afterward by telling us she’d pray for Gigi’s soul so she didn’t end up burning in hell?

You want those girls to wind up living with people who will beat them and tell them their mother is in hell?

How is that in the best interest of the children?

Fuck!” I push up from my seat and run my hands through my hair, pulling at the strands.

This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening.

“Unfortunately, we have no evidence of your allegations against your parents. And you ran away from home when you were only thirteen, which?—”

“Fucking hell, Lori. You make it sound like I was some dumbass kid who was pissed off because he was grounded. That’s not what happened, and if you read anything about me and my sister in that file, you know that.”

“Alright, Luke, she just said you’ve got to keep your temper in check?—”

“Dean, he beat us. They neglected us, in the name of some bullshit Lord that doesn’t even fucking exist. How can you sit there and be so calm about this? How can you sit there and tell me they have a chance of taking my kids? What kind of law office is this?”

I’m not doing myself any favors by leaning into the anger, but I can’t help it. Not when my world is spinning off its axis. I close my eyes, pacing back and forth while trying to catch my breath. But it’s impossible with Joseph’s words ringing in my ears.

A bomination.

C riminals.

S hould be lined up against a wall and shot.

Two hands come down on my shoulders, and I open my eyes, expecting to see Dean. But it’s Lori who has her hands on me, rubbing small arches over my shirt with her palms.

“Luke. I need you to listen to me. I believe you. I know you’re telling the truth about what your parents did to you and Gigi. I. Believe. You.”

I feel the hot tears spilling down my cheeks before my brain catches up with what’s happening.

I fold, giving into the sob I’ve been holding back, and collapse into Lori’s arms. She’s shorter than me, even in her spiky heels, but somehow she still manages to make me feel small in the way she cradles and attempts to soothe me.

I believe you. I believe you. I believe you .

She repeats those three words over and over, and I sink into them.

I didn’t know just how badly I needed to hear that from someone who wasn’t my sister or Dean.

To have an authority figure hear what my parents did to us—even if it was just one of countless offenses—and tell me that they believed me?

Not Rebecca, the picture perfect pastor’s wife with the beige, ankle-length dresses and the braid down her back.

Not Joseph, the spiritual leader, the voice of God, the man in charge, but me?

An old wound inside me that I didn’t realize was still festering begins to heal over.

Lori holds me, not letting go until I step away first. Then Dean is there, swooping in to put an arm around my shoulder and help keep me steady, as if he knew my knee has started to throb and I’d need extra support to stand.

But of course he knew. Dean knows everything about me, and my stupid knee always hurts when I cry.

When it rains, it pours, as they say.

“C’mon, babe, let’s sit,” he says, and I let him maneuver me backwards and back into the chair. Lori props herself up against the edge of her desk and shoots us a half smile.

“So, where do we go from here?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest before answering her own question.

“We’ve gone over enough bad stuff. Now let's get to the positives. Luke, you’ve been in your nieces' lives since day one. They know you. They trust you. You moved into their home, you have no plans to disrupt their routine. You’ve got a support system of people behind you to help, not to mention your sister’s will that names you guardian in the event of her death. Those are all good things.”

“I’m glad you mentioned the support system, because what about me?

My reputation is golden. Not a single smudge.

Could that help boost Luke’s case? Like, maybe his proximity to me and my family will make him look as good on paper as he is in real life?

” Dean asks, and not for the first time, I’m hit with an overwhelming wave of warmth.

His selflessness is palpable. The way he loves loudly with his entire chest is admirable.

I’m not sure I will ever deserve his attention. But I know my girls do, and I couldn’t be happier that they have a Dean in their corner.

“It doesn’t hurt, since you’re part of Luke’s and the girl’s village,” Lori answers with a slight nod of her head.

“But you’re also just a friend, so I fear your stellar reputation won’t carry too much weight in the eyes of the courts, Mr. McKenna.

I think our best bet is to focus on the stability of the children’s home environment.

Really play up the importance of the relationship between Luke and the kids, their health and emotional needs, and try our best to show that Luke’s character is one that is conducive to raising happy children. ”

I nod my head along, feeling a bit of the weight of the custody papers being lifted off my shoulders. This might not be a three-and-out kind of situation, but I don’t think I’m fighting a losing battle, either.

“Wait, you said Luke and I are just friends,” Dean says, that damn hand of his back on my thigh.

“That was my understanding, yes,” Lori says in a leading tone.

“Dean, what are you?—”

“So, hypothetically speaking, if Luke and I were more than friends…if I was a more permanent fixture in the girls’ lives…”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Dean.

Whatever you’re about to propose ,” Lori says, emphasizing the word for some reason.

“I suggest you do so outside of my office. I can neither confirm nor deny that the situation you may or may not have been thinking of would be a positive or negative factor in this case.”

Lori’s eyes are wide, the smile on her face nearly cartoonish. Dean’s knee is bouncing, and I can feel the energy vibrating off of him.

“Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” I say, my eyes darting back and forth between my lawyer and my friend.

Dean pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as the corners of his mouth lift up into a wicked grin.

He takes my hands in his, bouncing up and down in his chair like a little kid on Christmas morning.

“What. Is Going. On?” I repeat, punctuating my words to try to hide my nerves.

“Babe,” Dean says, the creepy smile on his face seeming very similar to the Grinch when he decided to steal Christmas. “I have a wonderfully crazy idea.”

Lori plugs her ears, singing an out of tune chorus of “La La Las” that sounds like I’m being punched in my ear holes.

“Don’t we have attorney-client privilege?” Dean says, raising his voice over the singing.

“Oh, yeah. I guess you do. Sorry, I don’t usually have a lot of scheming going on in my office. I forgot that attorney-client privilege extends to more than just murderers and stuff. Go on, then.”

I close my eyes and count to five, forcing myself to take a deep breath before I ask again.

“Will one of you please tell me what the wonderfully crazy idea is?”

Neither Lori nor Dean speaks, and I know I shouldn’t let my temper get out of control, but these two are really pushing my fucking buttons right now .

When I snap my eyes open to tell them just that, I find Dean on his knees on the floor in front of me.

No, not his knees.

Dean is on one knee in front of me, my hands still gripped in his warm, calloused palms.

“Luke, will you marry me?”