So I hold her. Because I love her. Because I love her so fucking much it hurts to sit still inside it. Because somewhere in the last three weeks I finally understood the thing I spent my whole life too busy solving problems to learn — that sometimes loving somebody isn’t finding the answer.
Sometimes it’s sitting in the back seat while they fall apart, and making damn sure they never once have to do it alone.
My father is in jail.
He’s been there three weeks, waiting for the state to try him for murdering my mother. Behind that case sits a federal one, built from years of secrets and names and money — evidence Mom dragged into the light before she died. Roman O’Toole may spend the rest of his life behind bars.
And he is still fighting me for my brother.
Not because he can take care of Tobias. Not because Tobias wants him. Not because a single person in this courtroom believes handing a six-year-old to a man accused of throwing his mother down a flight of marble stairs would be anything but a nightmare.
Roman is fighting because Tobias is his. That’s how my father sees people. As things he owns. Mom was his wife. I was his daughter. Tobias is his son. Even from a cell, he wants the final say.
“Ms. O’Toole is eighteen years old.” My father’s attorney stands at the far table, one hand resting on a stack of papers.
I sit beside Arthur. Ryan is directly behind me with Walter and Cassandra, Darla beside them.
“She’s completing her senior year of high school. She has never lived independently. She has no career, no residence of her own, and no reliable income.”
My fingers curl together beneath the table.
“Ms. O’Toole is also pregnant.”
My other hand goes straight to my stomach before I can stop it. I hate that I do it. I hate more that I feel like I have to defend doing it.
“She’s unmarried. The father of her unborn child is also eighteen, and Ms. O’Toole currently resides in the home of his parents, Walter and Cassandra Harrington.” He glances toward us. “The Harringtons provide her with housing, transportation, financial support, and assistance with Tobias.”
Assistance. Like Tobias appeared in my life three weeks ago and the Harringtons are teaching me what to do with him.
“None of this is meant to diminish Ms. O’Toole’s relationship with her brother. No one disputes that they’re close.”
Close. I know the exact pitch Tobias’s voice hits right before he cries. I know he lies about brushing his back teeth because he hates how the toothbrush feels on his gums. I know he won’t touch scrambled eggs if they’re the least bit wet, and that he wants the blue cup when his stomach hurts, and that he goes quiet in the seconds before he gets scared. But sure. We’re close.
“The question before this court isn’t whether Alison O’Toole loves Tobias. It’s whether an eighteen-year-old, pregnant, high-school student who remains financially and practically dependent on another family should be awarded full custody of a six-year-old child.”
The judge looks up from whatever’s in front of him. “And what is your client’s proposed alternative, Counsel?”
Roman’s attorney straightens. “Mr. O’Toole opposes a permanent transfer of custody at this time. Given that the criminal allegations remain unresolved, he maintains that the more appropriate course is temporary placement with a suitable adult, pending the outcome of those proceedings.”
My heart stops. Suitable adult. Not me. Somebody else. Anywhere else.
Arthur is on his feet before I fully register the chair moving. “Your Honor, Tobias isn’t awaiting placement. He’s living with his sister in a stable home.”
“I understand that, Mr. Walsh.”
“And Roman O’Toole is awaiting trial for the murder of Tobias’s mother.”
“Mr. Walsh.” Arthur’s jaw tightens, but he stops. The judge turns to Roman’s attorney. “Your client is incarcerated.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Pending trial for the murder of Jane O’Toole. The mother of the child whose placement he wishes to keep controlling.”
A pause. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“And there’s a pending federal prosecution as well.”
“There are ongoing federal proceedings.”