Page 39 of Made for Mayhem

The word got stuck in my throat, unable to keep going. A tear tracked down my cheek anyway, and I brushed it away, furious it had the audacity to expose how fragile I felt in this moment.

“I can’t lose Junie. I love her more than anyone on this earth, and—” My breath hitched. “I’ll figure it out. I promise.”

I glanced sideways at Ty, expecting him to gloat after his hard stance last night. Instead, his brow furrowed, his hand tightening in mine. He didn’t look surprised—but he did look worried.

“The timing of all of this feels unfortunate,” the judge said. “It’s almost always in the best interest to keep families together. Despite your circumstances, I don’t see a reason to keep her from you, Ms. Winslow.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, wiping at my cheeks again, giving him a gentle nod.

“But I also can’t dismiss the situation,” the judge continued, offering me a sad smile. I was getting sick of those. “The court will continue Juniper’s temporary placement with Mr. Hudson.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

“However,” he added, and my heart snagged on the word, “per Violet Winslow’s last Will and Testament, she formally nominated both you and Mr. Hudson as co-guardians of Juniper.”

The words seemed to echo in the too-small courtroom.

“The court gives considerable weight to a parent’s expressed wishes,” the judge continued. “While a will does not automatically transfer legal custody, it is clear Ms. Winslow intended for both of you to play active roles in her daughter’s life. Given Mr. Hudson’s established relationship with Juniper and Ms. Winslow’s status as next of kin, the court finds a shared temporary guardianship arrangement appropriate at this time.”

I frowned, staring over at Ty, trying to process the fact that my sister had named him alongside me. Sure, he’d gotten foster certified—maybe even preparing for something like this—but for Violet to have formally nominated him?

That meant she hadn’t been guessing.

She’d been planning.

Ty looked just as stunned as I felt, but the judge continued.

“As such, the court will grant temporary co-guardianship to both of you, effective immediately. Juniper’s primary physical placement will remain with Mr. Hudson for the time being, due to the stability of his housing and employment.”

The words still stung.

“Ms. Winslow,” he said, turning to me, “you will remain in Linwood for the next six weeks while background checks, home evaluations, and the primary caregiver assessment are completed.”

That caught my attention. “Six weeks?”

The caseworker nodded. “That is the standard review period. You’ll need to be available for home visits and to participate consistently in Juniper’s daily life. The goal is continuity for Juniper during this time of grief and to determine whether a transition to your primary custody is appropriate.”

“She’ll be living with me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Given your current housing situation, Juniper will remain placed with Mr. Hudson,” the judge clarified, “but your involvement will be active and ongoing. Regular visitation, shared decision-making, and cooperative planning between the two of you. If your housing and employment stabilize, the court will revisit permanent placement at the six-week review hearing.”

Beside me, Ty’s posture shifted—shoulders straightening, chin lifting. While I sat there trying not to hyperventilate, he looked steady. Not smug. Not triumphant.

Just ready.

“Bi-weekly check-ins,” the caseworker added. “No overnight removal from Eagle County without prior authorization. The two of you will be expected to work together to create a plan that serves Juniper’s best interest. She is a grieving child who has lost her mother. Keeping her in a familiar environment, with the people she already trusts, is critical right now. And Ms. Winslow—this is your opportunity to demonstrate stability.”

My jaw clenched. Demonstrate stability. I wanted to tell her stable didn’t mean happy. Last week I had a roof over my head and a job that paid me okay, but I’d never been more miserable.

Well, now I couldn’t say that, because it turned out I could, in fact, be more miserable. But none of that mattered right now.

The judge looked between us. “Questions?”

I shook my head because nothing else I said would make a difference.

We signed papers until my signature looked like a toddler’s scribble.

Outside, the sun was too bright. The air too cheerful. I stopped on the courthouse steps, gripping the railing as if the ground might give out beneath me.