I’m raw after opening up. Irritated I had to do it in the first place. My jaw unhinges, muscles locking up as I get ready to shove to my feet.
Fuck this. I didn’t do a damn thing wrong.
“Such a shame,” Frank mutters, sending a chill through the ire in my bones. I pause, fingers tight around the arms of the chair, and find his sad gaze locked on me. “Marlee was a confused, scared, and broken girl, Kade. Went through a hell of a childhood, we all know that, and it doesn’t excuse the hurt she caused, but you were both young.”
“All due respect,” I choke out. “If I was old enough to go to war, she sure as shit was old enough to not be an asshole.”
A laugh explodes from my left, shocking me. My eyes snap to Georgia’s just as she slaps a delicate hand to her mouth and winces.
I’m so surprised by her outburst, I smile, despite the heaviness in my gut.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, straightening her already perfect files. “Please, continue.”
Her lips are curled in a soft smile she tries to hide, chin tucked to her chest—but for some reason, I’m riveted to that tiny curve. It takes me a long moment to drag my gaze from her profile back to Frank.
Behind his glasses, his eyes are flicking between us, keen and assessing. After spending nearly thirty years as a judge, I assume he sees too damn much too easily, and the realization has the smirk dropping from my face.
“Be that as it may,” he continues. “I’m sure it was hard as hell coming back here, especially after your dad passed. I know how close you two were.”
I drop back fully into my chair, knees suddenly weak. All humor evaporates in a split second.
“We’re not here to talk about my dad.” My words are harsher than I intend, but I don’t give a fuck.
Truth is, the thrumming, burning pain inside me has nothing to do with Marlee, and everything to do with my dad. Hewasmy best friend, and he died because he was working too damn hard doing a job I should have been at home doing. Instead, I was thousands of miles away, fighting an uphill battle that’ll never be won.
That’s the guilt I carry every damn day. That’s the reason I struggle to wake up and find something to live for.
But mostly, that’s the reason I haven’t been home—and it’s killing me.
And it all started with a letter.
Frank’s nod is slow. “Understood.” He turns to Georgia. “I’ve already read through your extensive notes, but go ahead and continue with your assessment.”
“Um, of course,” she whispers, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.
No idea when it worked its way free from that slicked-back bun, but the softness suits her.
Not that I’m looking.
“As Mr. Archer stated, he and the deceased had no contact for the last decade. Despite that, the probate attorney has confirmed receipt of the letter of designation and his assistant faxed over a copy yesterday.” She blinks at me. “Everything is legal and notarized. Kade is the designated guardian.”
She swallows hard, but my throat closes all together.
“At the time of the home visit, I conducted an inspection and found the residence to be unsuitable for a child, particularly one Aurora’s age. It was not only unclean but also unsafe—structurally and otherwise.” I inhale a shaky breath. “Mr. Archer was also intoxicated at the time.”
I already knew all this—hell, I live it—but hearing it laid out in that soft, detached tone… it lands like a series of slow, deliberate punches.
And every single one hits dead center.
“There’s also uncertainty regarding employment. Based on my records search, no current job has been documented.”
Frank scribbles something down. “Kade?”
I clear my throat. “I, uh… I work remotely for a private security company out of Texas. I take jobs all over the place providing protection for people who need it on a short-term basis. I take gigs when I want them. Just got back from one the day before—” I glance at Georgia and dip my chin. “Before you showed up.”
Just like Frank, she’s taking notes. Me? I’m trying not to sweat through my clothes and stink up the place.
“Do you have a number for me to call? I’ll need to verify.”
