“She did.” I nod, my chest growing tighter and tighter by the minute, sobriety eclipsing both of us due to the heaviness of the conversation. Yup, shot number six would have been a very good idea. “Funny thing about the law, it’s pro family most of the time, meaning justice is often in favor of the birth mom.”
“I don’t understand. She can’t just ask for her back. She gave her away.”
I shake my head. “No, I gave her away.” And that’s where the problem lies.
“What do you mean?”
Blowing out another long breath, I try to steady my voice, anger, guilt, and anxiety making it sound rickety and uneasy. “When Rebecca came to me about three months ago, she said she wanted me to take the baby because she couldn’t handle it. I took that as Hope was my responsibility. When Rebecca signed the rights away to being a parent, she thought she was just signing them so she didn’t have any legal obligations to me. At the time, she wasn’t aware I was giving the baby up for adoption, meaning, she technically didn’t agree with the decision.”
“But she signed the papers.”
“Under false pretenses according to her.”
Hollyn goes to respond just as my phone rings. Giving her an apologetic look, I glance at the caller ID and see June’s name come across the screen. Fuck.
Instantly my body stiffens, my heart pounding, I feel the urge to throw up.
With a shaky hand, I stand and answer the phone on a squeak. “Hey, June.”
“Jace?” Her voice quivers. She knows, there is no denying it. Fuck! “Is it, is it true?”
Taking a calming breath, my legs feeling like they are going to break beneath me, I ask, “What has been told to you?”
“That Hope’s birth mom was unaware of the adoption and plans on taking legal action to get Hope back.”
Yup, that’s the gist of it. Shit.
Her sobs break me half.
“Can she . . . can she do that, Jace? Can she take her away? I can’t lose her, Jace. It will destroy me; it will destroy Alex. This is something we won’t be able to bounce back from.”
I’m going to fucking lose it. Right here, with Hollyn in my home and June on the phone. Regret settles deep in my belly, regret for not making sure Rebecca knew my plans, regret for not checking all the boxes before I matched Hope, regret for being so hasty about having lawyers involved. This is all my fucking fault. Why hadn’t I been advised about this? Perhaps I should have been more clear, but at that moment in time, when deciding who to give my baby to, being clear to Rebecca wasn’t even on my mind. Now I wish it was.
I pace the living room, pulling on the ends of my hair. “I’m not sure, June. I’m meeting with my lawyers tomorrow. We are going to figure this out. I promise.”
“But what if she can have Hope back? What if she really isn’t ours?”
“That’s not going to happen,” I say with a choked-up throat. “I’m not going to let that fucking happen. Do you hear me? I will fight this until the very end.” Tears fill my eyes and rip down my cheeks, my voice tight as I speak. “Hope is your baby, June, and I will be damned if it goes any other way.”
“Okay,” she says weakly.
“I promise you, June. Hope is your daughter.”
A heaviness weighs between us, both our hearts cracking at the seams as we exchange goodbyes, me promising to call them in the next few days when I have an update.
Deflated and completely spent, I toss my phone on the couch, lean against the wall of my living room, and slide down until my ass hits the floor. I grip my head, and a myriad of thoughts rush to the forefront of my mind.
I gave June and Alex hope, hope for the future of being a family of three. How could Rebecca believe it’s okay to rip that away from them? So damn selfish. First she capitulated her role as a mother to that beautiful baby, and now she wants to tear her from her home? What the hell?
Support. I need Hollyn. I lift my head to look for her but I don’t have to search long, because in seconds, she’s by my side, her arms encasing me, her head pressed against mine, and her mouth right next to my ear, telling me it’s going to be okay.
But what if it’s not going to be okay? That’s a reality I can’t even begin to fathom because that would mean my faith in humanity is shot, my faith in God is destroyed, and my faith in all things good nonexistent.
Because what kind of fucked-up world would it be if June and Alex lose their baby?
One world I don’t want to stick around to be in, that’s for damn sure.
HOLLYN
Helpless.
That’s how I feel.
Completely and utterly helpless. There is nothing I can do or say to take away that tortured look on Jace’s face.
She wants the baby back? What kind of woman would do that to another human being? I don’t know much about the situation, or much about June and Alex, but what I do know is that they’ve had that little girl for about a month now and they’ve bonded, they’ve created a family, a loving home for three. Surely Rebecca can’t just come in and rip that all apart.
Just the thought of it makes me want to find the woman and kick her right in the lady taint.
“Fuck. FUCK!” Jace screams, rising from his seat on the floor.
I want to calm him down, I want to put ease in his heart, but I don’t know how. I want to make everything better, but that seems impossible. I want to wash away his pain . . .
Alcohol.
Spying the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the coffee table, I stand to my slightly unsteady feet and hurry to the bottle. I turn to Jace and I hold it out to him. “Drink,” I say. “Drink to forget.” Drinking isn’t how you solve problems, but it’s the only thing I can come up with right now.
“Hollyn.” His voice is pained, so I shove the bottle into his hand.
“Drink, Jace.”
His eyes move from the amber liquid to me, as he slowly stands, contemplating his next move. His grip tightens around the neck of the bottle, his jaw strongly set with his decision as he brings the drink to his lips. I watch in fascination, his throat moving with each long, drawn-out swallow.
Pulling away, wincing from the burn, he holds the bottle to me and nods at it. “Drink.”
There is no hesitation where I’m concerned. I bring the bottle to my lips and sip as best as I can. I don’t gulp it down like Jace did, but I drink enough to leave a chasing burn down my throat.
When I’m done with the bottle, I still hold on to it but keep it at my side. Awkwardly, Jace and I stare at each other, the air in the room starting to grow thick with anger, with hurt, with something palpable I can’t place my finger on.
Each passing second adds to the coiling tension between us. The alcohol doesn’t take long to heat my body. Adding to the preexisting shots already consumed, and the devastated expression in his eyes, I begin closing the distance between us.
Step by step, I wonder what I’m doing. I’m chastising my body for even considering comforting him in my arms, but that doesn’t stop me. With the bottle of Jack Daniels at my side, I press the palm of my hand against his chest, stepping up in front of him. His heart is hammering against my palm, his eyes a window to his broken soul, breaking me as well.