Page 17 of Renegade Ruin

Once the little ears are gone, I pad over to one of the two chairs in the room and gesture for Lana to join me. “Why do I feel like you’re about to ruin my day?” Adding a silent,please, not today.

I had to watch my entire team be replaced one fucking draft pick at a time. I’m not sure I can take much more.

Lana laughs as she lowers herself into the uncomfortable armchair beside me. “I think you do that well enough on your own, don’t you?”

“Touché,” I rasp. Over the last four months, she’s never had an issue calling me out on my shit. It’s one of the reasons I tend to take Phoebe out instead of hanging at the apartment. If I wanted to be mothered, I’d answer the dozen messages I’ve got sitting in my inbox from my own. That doesn’t mean Lana hasn’t tried. Lord knows the meals she’s forced down my throat have been the only ones not heavily made up of alcohol and stale peanuts.

Her hands find her lap, twisting in the same nervous way Phoebe does. “Where have you been staying?”

I wish she would just put me out of my misery already.

“Did you really come here to make small talk?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Her voice is soft. Too soft. It’s the kind of tone people use when they are trying to prepare you for disappointment.

I bite my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, as if that will somehow distract me from the tears slowly rimming her eyes. My chest tightens. I can’t do this. I need to get out of there before the walls I’ve worked so hard to keep up come crashing down. Anger I can channel. Regret and guilt are my best friends. But the tears of my best friend’s mom will break me.

Lana reaches into her bag and pulls out a manila folder, offering it to me. “Have you read this?”

I take the folder and open it. Scanning the title, I drop it into my lap as if it’s burned me.

My lip quivers. “This is Jackson and Norah’s will.”

She nods past a sympathetic smile and reaches over, turning to a page marked by a bright pink post-it.

As if it wasn’t suffocating enough to hold the final wishes of my best friends in my hands, I’m choked by the words on the page.

I tip my head to meet Lana’s gaze, tears now openly falling down her face. “Is this real?”

She nods. “If anything happened to them, they wanted you to have Phoebe.”

“Why am I just seeing this now?”

Lana winces, and I watch as this force of a woman shrinks back like she’s been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.“Since Jackson isn’t dead, there was a bit of confusion as to who custody would be given to. I asked the lawyers to let me talk to you first.”

My jaw tics, and I’m not sure if I want to rage or cry. Mostly, I want my best friend to wake up and tell me what the hell they were thinking. Every reason why I can’t be in charge of another human races through my mind. Especially one as precious as Phoebe. I can barely take care of myself most days. I’m a shell of who I was when they wrote their will.If I’m not using alcohol to chase the pain, I’m huddled in the damn shower where I can’t tell the difference between my tears and the water washing them away. At the same time, I want nothing more than to protect her. To ensure she knows exactly how incredible her parents are and how much they love her.

Loved her.

Panic grips my spine as I try to reason how I can be what she needs, only to continuously come to the same conclusion. I can’t.

I inhale a breath that’s meant to steady me but only serves to further my anxiety. “Why are you showing me this now?”

“Because even though I think this is a terrible idea, Phoebe loves you and deserves to have a guardian who will put her first. Who is young enough to be there for her for the rest of her life.We aren’t getting any younger, and I intend to respect my son's wishes.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I need you to do better. Not only for her, but for you.”

“And if I can’t?” My words are whispered. Defeated.

“Then we’re going to petition the court for custody.”

“And move her to Oklahoma with you.” I finish her statement for her. If there’s one thing I know about Jackson’s parents, it's that they hate the city. It’s too fast—too loud—all the things her son loves about this place.

Lana nods.

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