Page 87 of Drop the Mitts

He shrugged. “I don’t know. She said I’d already bailed on her, which isn’t true.” He pulled out his phone. “I can show you if you want. She told me she signed, that it was done. That’s when I went a little crazy.”

Grace could barely breathe as he scrolled. His thumb flicked over the screen, then he paused, squinting. “Here. Found it.” He turned the screen to her.

Amey

I already signed the papers. The ten day window is up. The social worker sent you a letter and you never responded. You had your chance to be involved.

The timestamp was perfect. It was before the petition. Weeks before. Andshe knew.Grace’s stomach bottomed out. “Can you forward that to me?”.

Brady nodded. “On Hinge?”

Grace’s cheeks heated. “No, no, just—here.” She focused hard on her screen, pretending André’s eyes weren’t boring into her soul, and opened her contacts. She handed Brady the phone and had him type in his number.

When he was finished, she texted him, then waited for a buzz in response. When it came through, she held her breath. The message sat there, damning and undeniable. A loaded gun for court. Grace opened her case app and archived the screenshot immediately.

Holy shit.This was it. This was the hole in Amey’s case.

She exhaled slowly, her whole body vibrating. She only had to keep Neel Patel from finding out she’d given Brady sensitiveinformation.But had she?She hadn’t exactly told him what Amey’s petition was, and Amey had technically already exposed everything by saying the adoption was under scrutiny hadn’t she? “Thank you, Brady. I know this is a lot.”

He ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “I just want to be part of my kid’s life. I didn’t get to choose anything.”

Brady walked them to the door. André shoved his hands in his pockets, and Grace pulled her coat tighter around herself. They exited the house and walked in silence past his truck. He didn’t stop, instead following her to the corner. As soon as they were out of eyesight and earshot, Grace stopped and whirled toward him.

“They’re going to get to keep Hope!” she hissed, shaking with relief. “Can you believe that? She knew about the ten day window. I knew she knew it. Her social worker checked all the boxes, and now I have proof.” Grace turned in a circle, tipping her head to the sky. “This is exactly what I needed.” When she lowered her eyes, André wasn’t smiling. “What?”

He wet his lips, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?”

André blew out a breath, hunching over and pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. “This doesn’t feel right.”

She gaped at him. “Doesn’t feel right?”

André met her eyes, setting his jaw the way he always did before he said something she was going to hate. “Amey filed a petition with false information, and that was wrong. I get that. I hate that it’s putting Jenna and Country through the ringer. But this dude? He didn’t know he had a kid. She kept that from him, and now he’s in the shit about it and we’re going to slam this home? Cut him off?”

“I never said he’d be cut off. I said we’d discuss options?—”

“Yeah, the lawyers will decide for him. Meanwhile he’s never met his damn daughter.”

Grace snapped her mouth closed. She drew a deep breath and exhaled. “If he decided he wanted Hope, he would have a case to fight the adoption, André. I’m trying to save Jenna and Country.”

He took a step back and dragged a hand over his jaw. “I don’t think this is something you can control, Grace. What if he changes his mind in a year? Two? How is that going to impact Hope?”

“How is it going to impact our friends?”

He winced, pain flickering through his features. “If it had been your dad. If he didn’t know?—”

“That’s not fair. Don’t you dare use that against me?—”

André stormed forward and pulled her into his arms so fast, she forgot to breathe. She stiffened, but as his hand rubbed up and down over her back, she couldn’t help but sink into him. Tears pooled in her eyes as his heart beat against her cheek.

“I told you that first night that there’s always a reason for a fight.” His voice rumbled through her. “But you—Grace, you’re out here dropping gloves with every damn thing that breathes.”

“This is something worth fighting for.” She pushed against his chest, but he held tight.

“Not the point. You’re trying to kill every penalty yourself and refusing to pass the puck.”

“Don’t give me that hockey shit.” She wrestled her arms between them so she could look up into his face. “You can’t say a damn thing. Not when you’re busting your ass for Heads Up?—”

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