The Brightest Sunset (The Darkest Sunrise #2)

“Then I’ll be here,” Brady snapped.

Porter exploded all over again, and the guards quickly intervened, grabbing his arms to hold him back.

“You son of a bitch!” Porter shouted. “You can’t stand the idea that he needs me.”

Brady’s lips curled menacingly. “He doesn’t need you. He wants you because he doesn’t know any better. Six months from now, he won’t even remember you exist.”

“Brady!” I hissed.

He swung his malevolent gaze my way. “And you. Whenever the fuck your boyfriend there gets out of jail, you can have him all to yourself. Because, when our son comes home, it’s going to be to my house. I am done playing this shit your way. You fucking lost him the first time. I shouldn’t even have trusted him with you this long.”

My mouth fell open as my whole body went up in flames.

“You piece of shit!” Porter roared, and then his voice faded away as I heard a scuffle behind me.

But I didn’t tear my gaze off the biological father of my son long enough to see where they were taking his real father.

With calculated steps, I prowled toward Brady.

With every blink came darkness and light.

And with every heartbeat came a reminder of death and life.

Stopping in front of him, I stared up at him and stated, calm and cool, “I know you hate me for what happened all those years ago. And there hasn’t been a minute over the last decade where I didn’t wish I could change it. But no matter what you say. And no matter how hard you try. I will always be his mother.”

“And I will always be his father.”

“No. Brady. You are the selfish man who showed up at the hospital after getting a phone call that your son had been rushed to the emergency room completely unresponsive and you haven’t asked about him once. Porter was there when he needed a father today. And Porter has been there for him when he needed a father every day since he adopted him seven years ago. If you were any kind of man at all, you would drop to your knees and thank him for giving our son a beautiful life. Instead, you’re slinging insults and having him arrested while our son is not twenty feet away, fighting for his life.”

I took a step closer and moved my lips to his ears. “This is your only warning. You need to prepare yourself for the world of hurt I’m going to rain down over you if you so much as think of taking my son away from me. I will spare no expense to make it happen. I will cut you deeper than your shallow soul knew possible. Because. Brady. You’re right. I did lose him. But make no mistake about it. Nothing. No one. Not you. And not even the face of death will ever take my son away from me again.”

Stepping away, I gave him my back, a new resolve coursing through my veins, making me stronger than I had ever been before.

“You’re a fucking joke, Charlotte,” he called. “You’ll be lucky to get visitation after this shit.”

Any other day, his words would have destroyed me.

But, right then, I had bigger things to worry about than Brady throwing yet another hissy fit.

First being to escort my son up to Pediatric ICU and discuss his current state with his cardiologists.

Second being to contact my attorney and give her a heads-up on Brady’s latest threats.

Third being to get Porter out of jail.

And last being to suck in a deep breath and remind myself that I had too many reasons to live to shut down again—no matter how hard it got.




Two hours later…



“Get him out of there, Tom.”

“Charlotte, honey. It’s not that easy.”

After pulling the sweater my mother had brought me tight around my shoulders, I crossed my arms and began to pace up and down the hospital hallway. “Then make it that easy.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, but I can’t in good conscience help Porter Reese.”

I stopped and leveled my gaze on his. “Then you have no business here. Feel free to leave.”

“You are my business,” he clipped. “And you’re not making smart choices.”

I marched over to him, and then, careful to keep my voice low, I seethed, “I was never your business. You got assigned to a case of a missing baby.” I stabbed a finger at Travis’s hospital room. “That means that little boy is your business. So, by all means, walk your ass in there and tell him you aren’t going to help his father get out of jail because you feel like maybe, just maybe, Porter outsmarted you at some point.”

He glared at me. “That is not what this is about. This is about you being so blinded by your heart that you can’t even see the truth.”

“You’re right!” I whispered. “I am blinded by love.” I planted my hands on my hips and leaned in close. “Love for my son. When he wakes up and Porter isn’t standing at that bedside, it’s going to crush him. And there is nothing I won’t do to prevent him from feeling even an ounce of heartbreak.”

He cocked his head to the side. “And what about you? You love Porter?”

Defiantly, I held his stare. “Unquestionably.”

He clamped his jaw shut and ground his teeth. “You’re just going to forget that that man raised your son for the last however many years? That he married the sociopath who stole him? That he pursued you knowing he had your son? He played you then. And, now, he’s playing you again to keep that boy in his life. I don’t doubt that he loves that little boy. But I refuse to stand by and watch him treat you like a pawn in this little game of his.”

“He didn’t know he had my son!”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “So he’s said a million times.”

“You found nothing on him. The investigation has been closed.”

“Because we can’t get enough on the asshole to make a case. But that doesn’t mean he’s not guilty. Coincidences like that don’t just happen, Charlotte. For fuck’s sake, he was at your house the day the body of the real Travis Reese was recovered.”

“Travis Hendrix,” I corrected.

“What?” he clipped.

“That little boy whose body you recovered. His name was Travis Hendrix. And he died years before Porter ever entered the equation. You want to talk about games and pawns. Shit, Tom. Porter was caught in the middle of the ultimate chess match and he didn’t even know he was playing. Can we all take a step back and point the finger where blame really belongs? Catherine took my son.”

“I know that,” he grumbled.

“Can we also acknowledge that she had some pretty serious mental health issues?”

“No one is doubting that.”

“Then can you imagine how in the hell my son’s life would have turned out if Porter had not been in that picture?”

His eyebrows knit together as he cut his gaze away.

I inched closer and rested my hands on his chest. “Yeah, Tom. He’d be dead and you know it. The first time she got overwhelmed with his health and Porter hadn’t been there to talk her off the ledge, she’d have taken his life right then so she wouldn’t have to lose him again.”