Page 68 of Grumpy Ex-Military Brewmaster’s Secret

"Whatever Derek's attorney thinks he's building, he's building it against both of us now. Not just you sitting alone at this table at midnight, wondering how bad it's going to get." I hold her eyes, steady, meaning every word of it. "I'm not going anywhere. Not for this, not for anything that comes after it."

"That's a big promise."

"I've made bigger ones and kept them for less good reasons." I bring her hand up and press my mouth to her knuckles, brief and certain. "We'll read every word of it together. Tonight, if you want. Call whoever we need to call in the morning."

"Tonight." She nods, some of the tightness easing out of her shoulders for the first time since she sat down. "I don't want to carry it by myself for one more hour."

"You won't have to." I turn the envelope so it faces her, an offer instead of a demand, and keep her hand wrapped in mine the whole time. "Whatever's in here, we're reading it as one unit. Both of us. Starting right now."

She slides the letter out of the envelope, unfolds it along its worn creases, and lays it flat on the table between us. Nothing's left unspoken in this kitchen now, not on her side of the table or mine. Just the two of us, hands joined over a piece of paper that was supposed to scare her alone, reading it together instead.

33

JENNA

Priya Anand's office smells like cedar and printer toner, a narrow room above the pharmacy with diplomas hung a little crooked and a window unit rattling against the cold, and she reads Derek's petition twice through before she says a single word to either of us, one finger tapping a slow, unhurried rhythm against the desk.

"Okay." She sets the pages down, squares them, folds her hands on top like she's closing a book she's already decided how she feels about. "Here's where we actually stand. Not the version that scares you. The real one."

"We're listening," Rafe says, sitting close enough that I can feel the warmth coming off him under the desk, steady in the way he gets right before something matters.

"You're in a strong position, Jenna. Primary caregiver, documented history, twins thriving in school, no red flags in your file that I can find no matter how hard I go looking, and believe me, I go looking." Priya taps the petition once. "This is winnable. That's the headline. Hold onto it, because the next part of this conversation is going to try to talk you out of believing it."

"But." I hear it coming a full second before she actually says it, the same way you brace for cold water before you've even touched the pool.

"But it's not automatic. Nothing with a judge ever is." She leans back, chair creaking under her. "Derek's attorney is going to argue changed circumstances. He'll claim he's completed the program, clean record since, the whole redemption narrative. Judges like a good comeback story. It plays well, whether or not it's earned."

"It's not earned." My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, and I don't apologize for it.

"I believe you. That's not the same as what a judge who's never met either of you is required to believe on day one." Priya's tone stays even, kind but not soft, the tone of a woman who's clearly walked a hundred other frightened parents through this exact fear and knows precisely where the hard parts sit. "Here's the other thing I need you both to understand before we go any further. Courts in a case like this will look hard at what they call outside influences in the household. Anyone new in the children's lives, anyone new in yours."

The room goes very still. I feel it happen before I understand why, feel Rafe go rigid beside me, his knee pulling back from mine like he's bracing for impact somewhere I can't see coming yet.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Rafe says, careful and flat, every word measured out like he's counting rounds left in a magazine.

"It means opposing counsel will look for anything that lets them paint this household as unstable rather than safe. New partner, especially one who's moved fast, gets scrutinized hardest of anyone. They'll ask about your background. Financial stability, criminal record, that kind of thing, standard stuff. If there's anything else on paper, they'll find it and they'll try to make it sound scarier than it is." Priya doesn't look away from him, doesn't soften it, just lays it down plain the way she's laid down everything else this morning.

I understand what she's circling before Rafe even opens his mouth, and from the way his jaw sets, so does he. He's thinking about a mandatory counseling record from six years ago, ancient history that has nothing to do with the man sitting beside me now, and how an opposing attorney could still twist it if they wanted to badly enough. Neither of us says it out loud. We don't have to. It just sits there with us, heavier than anything Priya's actually said.

"I served. I got help when I needed it and I got out clean." Rafe's voice is level, controlled in the way I've learned means he's working hard to keep it that way. "That's not a liability."

"It's not, not to me and not to any reasonable person on the planet. But I'm not the one you need to worry about." Priya's voice softens fractionally, the first real give I've seen in her all morning. "I'm telling you this so you're prepared, not so you panic. We manage the optics carefully, we don't hand them ammunition, and we let the actual facts of your character speak for themselves. You have an entire town that would stand up in that courtroom for you if it came to it. That's worth more than people think."

"So what do I do?" Rafe leans forward, hands flat on his knees, and I recognize the exact posture from a hundred moments watching him think through a problem like it's a maintenance checklist instead of his own life. "Because my first instinct is to drive over there and end this before it starts."

"Your first instinct is the single fastest way to lose this case." Priya doesn't blink. "One documented confrontation, one witness who says you showed up angry at his house, one text message that reads wrong out of context, and suddenly you're the unstable outside influence instead of him. He wins that version of the story every single time, because he's the one with a certificate saying he's changed and you'd be the one who just proved he wasn't the only volatile man in this equation."

"I wouldn't be volatile. I'd be right."

"Doesn't matter. Being right loses to being documented every single time in family court." Priya's voice sharpens, just slightly, enough to land. "You want to protect them. I understand that completely. The way you protect them is by staying invisible to this process until it's your turn to speak, and then you speak exactly as much as I tell you to and not one word more."

Rafe doesn't answer right away. I can see him fighting it, six years of training telling him the only acceptable response to a threat is direct action, running straight into a wall of paperwork and procedure that doesn't care he could handle worse than Derek Walsh with his hands tied behind his back.

"Okay," he says finally, the word costing him something. "We let the process run."

"Good." Priya slides a folder across the desk toward me, businesslike again now that the hardest part's over. "I'll file our response by the end of the week. In the meantime, both of you keep living exactly the life you were already living. Nothing performative, nothing defensive. Just be who you actually are and let that speak for itself."

We leave twenty minutes later with a folder full of instructions and a silence between us that doesn't lift until we're both back in the truck, engine running, heat starting to push the cold out of the cab.