Page 1 of Louder Than Words

1

Allie

Is it physically possible for your heart to tear through your chest if it beats hard enough?

The logical, medically trained part of me knows the answer is no. And yet, I’m still convinced it’s about to happen anyway. That’s anxiety for you, though—especially when you’re sitting alone in a courthouse lobby.

My hands won’t stay still, running along the sides of my jeans until the friction burns my palms. I clench my fists to stop, then slowly lace my fingers together and press them into my lap as if that’ll be enough to settle my still growing nerves.

Inhale the good, exhale the bad. Inhale the good, exhale the bad.

I repeat the mantra like it’s gospel, hoping that saying it enough will make everything better somehow. But the truth is? This could be the exact opposite of okay. This could becatastrophic. I could lose…everything. My girls are the very reason I breathe, drag myself out of bed, and keep moving forward on the days I want to disappear. If I lose them—

The thought alone sinks its claws in, refusing to let go until I’m suddenly hyper-aware of everything around me. Like the way this old wooden bench is uncomfortable no matter how I sit. Or how the air smells like a strange mix of rusty metal from the ancient heaters, stale coffee, and… is that alcohol?

My nose wrinkles, and I turn slightly, spotting an older man on the far end of the bench. Not close enough to make me uncomfortable, but enough that I can tell the smell is definitely coming from him. His head rests against the wall, eyes closed, and a wiry beard nearly dips into his coat pocket. My eyes linger longer than they should, but I can’t look away. My mind races with so many questions that just aren’t mine to ask. Like is he here because he has to be? Or because life hasn’t been kind and he just needs somewhere warm? Is his family worried sick about him?

God, pull yourself together, Allie.

He shifts slightly, and my eyes snap back to the floor. I drag my hands down my face, trying to shake off even a fraction of the nerves buzzing through my bones. I’ve only been here five minutes, but my constant shifting and tugging at my sleeves is probably already catching the security guard’s eye. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t stop. All I can think about is whether or not Trevor is going to try and belittle me again. Maybe he’ll even tell the mediator how terrible of a mom I am, just like he tried to convince the first judge we saw three months ago.

Thankfully, she dismissed everything the second Trevor opened his mouth—probably smelling the bull oozing from his pores. But what if this time it does go to trial? What if the nextjudge actually agrees with him? The thought alone makes my heart race, matching pace with my bouncing knee.

God, I need a distraction. Anything to stop my brain from spiraling into every worst-case scenario. Although, it’s probably too late for that. Any rational thought I brought with me was clearly blown away the second I opened the door.

At least one thing I don’t have to worry about right now is the girls. I can still see them forcing Jax into a seat at their tea party this morning, and that at least makes me smile.

He really is just a gentle giant. Over six feet tall, with tattoos and a leather jacket, and yet he jumps the second those girls ask him for anything. And I mean anything.

Tea party? They don’t even have to ask. He’s already gathering the plastic set he bought them. They want to paint his nails bubblegum pink? Or give him pigtails? He doesn’t hesitate to fold himself onto their tiny stool like it was made for him. What matters to him is making those girls laugh and feel seen. Watching him love them like they’re his own is probably the most attractive thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life.

And yet someone wants to rip that away.

The revolving doors spin, making my heart leap into my throat. I look up and see Trevor walking in, his new girlfriend in tow, clinging to his arm like a leech. Except she doesn’t realize that soon enough,he’llbe the one sucking the life out ofher.

They pass through the metal detectors, and I try not to stare, but how can I not?Thisis the man trying to ruin my life? How did I not see this coming from a mile away? The way he carries himself alone makes him look like an arrogant prick. Shaggy blonde hair that almost matches my bench neighbor, a stupid blue checkered jacket with a faux-fur collar, and a small rip on the left pocket. Actually, I thinkIbought him that ugly thing for his birthday three years ago.

A smile pulls at the corner of my lips at the irony, and I realize something I should have known a long time ago.

I got this.

I have nothing to worry about when it comes to a decision between Trevor or me taking care of our girls. I’ve been there since day one. He hasn’t. I was the one paying for everything in the end, not him. All those sleepless nights when the girls were sick, birthdays, doctor appointments, teaching them to be kind and grateful—the list goes on. And that wasallme.

They sit on the opposite side of the room, completely ignoring the instructions I know we both got to check in at the front desk.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, my chest tightens when I see we only have a few minutes left.

I clear my throat. “Y-you need to check in at the desk,” I say, forcing a small smile and gesturing toward the window.

They both turn to face me, and I shrink under their glare, like I’m something contagious they could catch if they’re not careful. His girlfriend leans in, her shoulder-length blonde hair falling like a privacy curtain, blocking any chance of me reading her lips as she whispers something in his ear.

Heat floods my cheeks, but why shouldIbe the one feeling embarrassed when I’m the only one being civil here. They’re the ones acting like we’re still in high school, and I’m just the weird girl in the corner. It’s like my life has become a soap opera, and everyone’s watching, shoveling popcorn into their mouths while sighing,Poor little Allie.The sting of being an outcast creeps in, but I swallow it down and sit up a little taller instead.

A door swings open to my right, and a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a matching beard steps out. His eyes scan the room. “Allison Windsor and Trevor Monroe?”

I stand, grab my purse, and move toward him, just as Trevor and Marissa do the same.

Wait, why is she going inside? The paperwork clearly said only the two parents were allowed—hence why Jax isn’t here with me. And honestly, the thought of sticking Jax and Trevor in a room together doesn’t sound like the brightest idea.