Page 86 of Drop the Mitts

André exhaled. “You were overseas?”

“Four years. Two in Latvia, one in Poland, and a shit rotation back home. Didn’t even know Amey kept the pregnancy. She said she was getting rid of it.” Brady leaned back in his chair. “Didn’t believe the letter at first. Thought it was some scam. Then I texted her. Asked if it was real.”

Grace leaned in. “What did she say?”

He shrugged. “Said she took care of it like we planned, but I don’t know. It felt different. Knowing a baby existed. A little girl. I was pissed.”

“I would be,” André muttered.

Grace wanted to kick him under the table, but Brady’s expression brightened. “Right? I didn’t mean to blow up her life, but I was crashing out.”

André glanced at her. Perfect. So they both didn’t know what that meant.

Grace folded her hands on the table. “What did you say to her?”

Brady glanced away, rubbing his jaw. “I told her she had no right to give my daughter away without my permission. I was going to get a lawyer and sue.”

The pieces clicked together. Amey’s financial situation was unstable at best, nonexistent at worst. Grace had wondered often how she was paying Patel to oversee this petition in the first place. A lawsuit? That would be astronomical. “Were you serious?”

He blew out a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe. But that weekend Amey told me she could get her back. Said it wasn’t final.”

Grace worked to keep her breathing even. “Are the two of you planning to raise her together?”

“Together? Nah. Amey and I aren’t a good fit. We were never really together.”

Grace blinked. “So . . . you’re going to raise her? Alone?” Panic rose in her chest. She wasn’t here to judge whether Brady was fit to be a father, but looking around the room . . . she was sure as hell judging his fitness.

André dropped a hand on her knee. “Bud, you working?”

Brady nodded. “Yep. Gordon’s. Construction.”

“Nice. That’s a good gig. How much are you making?”

Brady’s mouth twitched. “Sixty. Hoping to go up to seventy-five by the end of summer.”

André’s hand tightened on Grace’s leg, and she dropped a hand from the table, covering his with hers.

He flipped his palm and laced their fingers, then gave a soft squeeze. “I get it, bud. This has to be heavy. But she’s with a family—she’s been with them since birth. Do you want to tear that apart?”

Brady’s jaw clenched. “I haven’t even seen her.”

“Because Amey closed the adoption,” Grace explained. “The family—Jenna and Gentry—they’re good people. Loving. Stable. They were never pushing for it to be closed.”

“What if I want to be part of her life? I didn’t get a choice.” Brady blinked fast, trying to hide his emotion.

Grace counted to three as she inhaled. “No one’s saying you can’t be. We could explore open adoption—visits, letters, a relationship. But you and Amey aren’t in a place to co-parent. You’d be introducing a custody battle where none existed.”

He stared at the wall. Silent for a long beat. “Custody?”

Grace nodded. “Listen, I know I’m biased in this situation. I believe your daughter is in a beautiful home, and I believe in the process that was followed. I know Amey doesn’t believe she was given all the information?—”

“What?” Brady frowned. “Wasn’t given what information?”

Grace’s jaw tightened. The petition wasn’t public record, which meant she couldn’t give him specifics. Her heart sped in her chest. She was already on shaky legal ground, but this was Country and Jenna. Maybe there was a way to work around it. She had to find something that could stop this petition in its tracks. “She’s saying . . . certain steps in the process weren’t fully explained to her. That she didn’t understand all of her rights before signing.”

Brady made a low sound in his throat. “That doesn’t track. She was pissed at me when I reached out. Said I’d already missed the window.”

Grace’s heart ticked faster. “What window?”

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