The Brightest Sunset (The Darkest Sunrise #2)

I hated that he had needed that education at all.

And, with over thirty prescription bottles now filling one of my kitchen cabinets, it was a constant reminder that keeping him might be infinitely harder than getting him back had been.

I had made plans to call his numerous specialists first thing in the morning to schedule meetings and request all of his medical records. I’d been a dedicated physician since the day I’d graduated medical school, but Lucas had just become my most important patient of all.

When his medications were organized, Lucas sat on the couch and regaled my mom and Tom with silly stories about video games and pranks he’d pulled on his private tutors (more people I’d be contacting in the morning.) So I got busy getting my bedroom ready for him.

I stripped the sheets off the bed that, only one night earlier, Porter and I had shared. I cleared the empty beer bottle he’d left on the nightstand after we’d spent the night laughing and talking, naked and alone in the darkness. His overnight bag was still in the corner, and I fought the urge to lift his shirt to my nose and fill my lungs with the comfort I’d only been able to find in his arms. I shoved it in the closet and shut the door. And, as I erased him from my room, I pretended like the thought of him truly being gone wasn’t breaking me.

I still had no clue what his role in all of this mess had been. Brady and Tom wouldn’t let up about the coincidence of it all.

Though, I was more skeptical.

The first thing I’d learned in medical school was that, when you hear hoof beats, don’t automatically assume it’s a zebra. It’s probably a horse. More often than not, the simplest, most logical answer was usually correct.

I was a pulmonologist.

And Porter had a child with a pulmonary issue.

But, even knowing that, it didn’t change our unique situation.

I knew Porter, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get his son back.

And he knew me, so he had to be aware that there was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep him.

We were already at a stalemate, and the match was just getting started.

“Hey,” Brady whispered, sidling up behind Mom and me. He rested his palms on our backs and asked, “He still asleep?”

“Yeah,” I replied, curling the mug of coffee into my chest.

“He had to be exhausted,” Mom added.

“Susan, you mind if I have a minute alone with Charlotte?”

Her gaze flicked to mine in question, and I gave her a short nod.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked to Brady and asked, “Are you going to be an asshole?”

Yep. That was my mom.

Brady chuckled. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Then I suppose I can give you two a minute. You want some coffee?”

“I’d love some,” he replied, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Okay, then. Be nice and don’t make me hurt either one of you on such a joyous day.” Pressing up onto her toes, she pecked my cheek and then patted Brady on the chest before strolling away.

Brady moved to fill her empty space in the doorway. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. Of course,” I answered. “What about you?”

His green eyes warmed. “It’s weird. Ya know? He’s my son, but he’s also this little stranger.”

“I know. I get nervous every time he so much as looks at me,” I confessed and immediately felt awkward about it. “I mean—”

“He looks a lot more like you than I was expecting. In all the age progression photos they made over the years, he always looked like me.”

I smiled and swallowed hard. “He’s got your chin.”

He chuckled and scrubbed his jaw. “Poor guy.”

I took another sip and turned my attention back to Lucas, allowing the silence to linger between us. Though there was nothing comfortable about it.

“Thank you,” Brady rasped.

With wide eyes, I snapped my gaze to his. “For what?”

He cleared his throat. “I felt like I was going to die this morning when you had to give him that breathing treatment thing. I literally couldn’t breathe the whole time.”

I patted his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s fine now.”

“You jumped right in, while I stood there, paralyzed by fear that I’d just gotten him back and I was already going to lose him again.” His voice cracked as he covered his mouth.

“Brady,” I whispered, my chest tightening. “That’s my job. It’s different for me. I’ll teach you. It won’t be so scary next time.”

He nodded. “I don’t want there to be a next time.”

“I don’t either, but unfortunately, there are going to be a lot of next times. He’s sick, Brady. Really sick.”

He hooked his arm around my shoulders and gathered me into his side. My body was stiff, but I allowed him the contact.

But it was all for him.

What I wouldn’t have given for it to be Porter’s strong arm. His reassuring words in my ear. His lips pressing into the top of my hair. His warmth enveloping me.

As though he could read my mind, Brady said, “I know, which is why we need to talk about Porter Reese.”

My heart lurched. Stepping away from his side, I caught the doorknob. Silently pulling the door shut, I left Lucas peacefully sleeping inside.

“What about him?” I asked.

“I don’t want my son having anything to do with that asshole.”

And just like that, our moment was gone.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “Jesus Christ, how many times are we going to have this conversation? I agreed to the protection order, didn’t I?”

“You did.” He took an ominous step toward me. “But then, an hour later, you let our son text that man.”

My back shot straight. “How do you know that?”

“The same way I know that Porter was blowing your phone up in the middle of the night.”

Now, that was news to me. I had no idea where my phone was. When I’d last seen it, it was on the end table in the living room. But, after Lucas had woken up having difficulty breathing, I’d lost track of basically everything else. Clearly, Brady had not.

“You went through my phone?” I hissed.

He cocked his head to the side and leveled me with a scowl. “Tell me you understand.”

“You went through my fucking phone?” I semi-repeated, stepping forward until we were nose to nose.

My mom suddenly appeared between us. “No way. Break it up, you two. We are not doing this today.” She took my coffee from my hand when I refused to back down.

“Say it, Charlotte,” Brady demanded.

“You had no right!” I snapped.

“And neither did you. He’s our son. Both of ours. You do not get to make decisions by yourself.”

“Hey. Hey. Hey,” Tom said, wading into what was about to escalate into World War III. “Enough.”

Brady and I continued our stare down around them, neither of us willing to concede.

Ultimately, it was a knock at the door that finally broke the tension.

With my teeth clenched, I dragged my gaze away from Brady and marched to the door. My footsteps were almost as heavy as the anger brewing inside me.

I snatched the door open and then froze.

Topaz-blue eyes.

Short, blond hair.

Strong jaw covered in scruff.

Bright, white smile.