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“She saved me!” I roar. “Gigi fucking saved me. Your husband beat me so badly that I couldn’t see out of my left eye for two weeks when he suspected that Gigi wasn’t straight.

He would have killed me when he found out I’m gay, too.

You know that as well as I do. And miss me with that kidnapping bullshit.

You never came after us. You never tried.

There was no fight, no chase, no pictures plastered on the side of milk cartons.

Not a single missing persons report. You were as happy to see us go as we were to leave.

You two don’t just get to show up here in my city and try to take my fucking kids from me! ”

My face is red. My hands are sweaty. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. The only thing that is keeping me from lunging forward and choking the smug smile right off my father’s face is Dean’s iron-tight grip on my hand.

That, and the phone I notice poking out of Joseph’s shirt pocket.

The phone he glances at, then looks back at me with a cocky smirk.

The phone that I’m now sure is recording me, because Joseph and Rebecca don’t actually give a fuck about seeing the children they want to take from me.

They’re here to goad me. They’re here to make me look like the hot-headed asshole they had written about in that article.

They want me to look like the angry, unfit guardian that they’re going to try to make me out to be in court.

“Now, now, Levi, let’s all just calm down. We wouldn’t want things to get out of hand, would we? You ought to try harder to keep that temper of yours in check, son. Especially when you’re throwing out false accusations about others.”

Joseph’s smirk makes me feel weak. Rebecca’s cloying smile makes me feel slimy. They got what they wanted. I lost my temper, and now they look like two grief-stricken parents, while I’m the asshole estranged son trying to keep them from the grandchildren they were never given a chance to know.

Of course, that’s not fucking true. But who is anyone going to believe? Who is a judge going to believe? The ex-football player with the mean reputation and the anger issues, or the homely pastor and his doting wife?

I feel like I’m twelve years old, sitting in church and listening to Joseph call for the murders of queer people just for existing.

All those Sundays I spent wanting to melt into the pew and disappear, because I knew that if Joseph found out about the thoughts in my head about other boys, he’d want me dead, too.

I take a step back, then another until I’m colliding with Dean. He immediately drops my hand to wrap his arms around me, and I feel myself sinking back into him.

“Do not come near me or my kids again. I’ll get a restraining order if I need to.

You want to fight this out, we’ll fight it out in court.

But you will not see my girls. You will not look at them, you will not talk to them, you will not put thoughts into their heads.

Gigi’s daughters belong with me, and until a judge says otherwise, you stay. The fuck. Away.”

It takes all that I have to not break down.

It’s right there, the urge to give in, to fall down.

Hell, even my bad knee decides right now is a good time to start throbbing.

Everything in my body is telling me to let go, but when Dean brushes his lips against my temple—the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to my parents—it reminds me to lean into his strength.

“Come on, corazón. They’re not worth your time,” he murmurs against my skin as he starts to walk us backwards.

It isn’t until we’re back inside the studio and Joseph and Rebecca have walked away that I give in to the tears. Kira takes the kids to her house for the sleepover, and I barely hang on to my sanity as Dean helps me into the passenger seat of my Rivian and drives us home.

Only part of me is conscious enough to register our arrival back home, or the way Dean leads me up the stairs to our bedroom and helps me into the bed.

When he lays down next to me and I ask him to hold me, I hardly recognize my own voice.

He slides into the bed next to me, pressing his front to my back since I can’t bring myself to face him.

He buries his face into my hair, and my teeth chatter from the force of my emotional pain.

“They’re here, Dean. They’re in San Francisco.”

“I know, corazón.”

“It’s real. It’s not just a threat. They’re here and they’re going to hurt me. They’re really going to try to take them away from me.”

“I won’t let them. Today was a slip that I didn’t see coming, but I won’t let them near you again. Not until we have to sit in front of a judge. They’re not getting anywhere near you or our girls again, Luke. I promise. I’ll keep you all safe.”

I want to believe him. I want to believe him so badly that my chest aches from it.

Dean has never let me down, not once in all the years I’ve known him.

He’ll do his best. He’ll be there, doing and saying all the right things like he always does, but can he promise to keep us safe and together when our future as a family is so uncertain?

I don’t know if he can.

All I know is that Dean lays in our bed with me, holding me close while I cry myself to sleep in his arms.

But when I wake up in the morning, he’s already gone.