False Start: A Fake Dating Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)

I thought my hands would be shaking.

A million times, it seemed, I had played out what I imagined this day would be like in my mind. I had imagined everything from trembling fingers and a weak, shaky voice, to me breaking down into complete hysterics.

But instead, here I was, twenty-six weeks pregnant with a steady, calm heart and clear, focused mind.

I’d survived.

I’d survived hellish failures at mediation, and months and months of being civil with Marshall when he was nothing but nasty to me and Kyle both.

I’d survived Sebastian clinging to my legs not wanting to go to Marshall’s house, battling with the love he felt for his father, but the obvious lack of love his father felt for me.

I’d survived holding my son and soothing him after he had to endure on-camera interviews with the judge, his Guardian Ad Litem, and both our attorneys to tell his side of the story, to make his voice heard in this case.

I’d survived the presentation of evidence — everything from text messages Marshall had sent over the years, to photographic proof of him laying his hands on me. Marshall’s friends, who swore they were my friends, too, had testified against me. His colleagues had attested to his upstanding character. And though my parents had testified the opposite, I wasn’t sure how that would hold. I couldn’t read what the judge was thinking as he listened and watched and analyzed.

I’d survived the cross-examination from Marshall’s lawyers, the way they’d tried to twist their questions and my response in tandem to get what they wanted out of me. Fortunately, the lawyer Kyle had hired for us had worked on this with me, and I was prepared.

I also had nothing to hide — unlike my ex-husband, who looked a bit sweaty in his seat as he watched me stand and address the court for the final time.

When I’d asked our lawyer for permission to read a personal statement to the judge, she’d originally nixed the idea. It wasn’t traditional. It wasn’t how things worked. She didn’t want the judge to think we were going for hysterics or fanfare.

But this was the one thing I’d insisted on.

In order for me to read a statement, though, Marshall had to be allowed to read one of his own. He’d done so yesterday, pleading with the judge and making himself tear up and look innocent, like he’d been painted as a victim, when really he was just a good father battling against a selfish mother who wanted to take his child.

Kyle elected not to testify — mostly at my insistence. We both knew my fiancé and the father of the child in my belly wouldn’t be exactly trustworthy as a source. He would be entirely biased, and anything he did say would likely be taken with a grain of salt.

I knew it had killed him to sit out. But he was still here, front row, right behind our lawyer, and holding hands with my mom, who held hands with my father, who looked ready to kill Marshall if the judge didn’t make the right decision at the end of all of this.

Kyle’s season had ended earlier than we’d wanted. Unfortunately, Seattle didn’t make it to the playoffs. And as much as I hated that for him and for the team, I was selfishly thankful that he could be here for this, that he didn’t have to rush off to the stadium for practice or fly away for a game.

I ran my steady, non-shaking hands over my round belly. Our daughter was the size of a head of lettuce now, growing stronger every week. Sebastian was having the hardest time waiting out of all of us. He couldn’t bear another day without meeting his baby sister.

I closed my eyes and reached for her in that moment. I asked her to give me strength and poise and confidence. I asked her to help me finally bring this family peace.

“Your Honor,” I began, pleased to hear my voice was as even and serene as I felt inside. “I want to thank you for allowing me to address you with this personal statement. I realize this is not traditional, but I hope you can understand that — as a woman who has been silent for many years — I found it of the utmost importance to stand before you today and give the final word on my account.”

Judge Hall, an old, bald gentleman with warm brown skin, a black beard tinted with spots of white, and dark eyes that were somehow kind and severe at the same time, nodded in way of acknowledgement but did not give any other emotion away.

I’d watched him listen intently to Marshall the day before, and I hadn’t been able to read him then, either. This man had heard both of our stories. He’d interviewed my son. Could he see the truth, or was he blinded by Marshall’s squeaky-clean professional record and reputation the way so many others were?

“On my phone, there are hundreds and hundreds of photographs of my son,” I said, a genuine smile finding my lips. “There are pictures of him wrapped as a newborn in my arms as I nursed him while running on little to no sleep. There are videos of him using the couch to help himself stand, to navigate walking on his tiny legs for the first time. There are photos of his first day of daycare, his first day of pre-school, his first day of kindergarten, his first lost tooth.”

I swallowed, my smile slipping.

“In-between those beautiful memories are photos with a more haunting story to tell. Pictures of bruises on my arms, of the skin above my eye split and angry and bleeding, of me on my bathroom floor sobbing and rocking in pain from being kicked in the stomach — an injury no one could see, but that I felt for weeks.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know that Kyle was likely squeezing my mother’s hand off as he listened to this, that my mother was likely straining to hold both men at her sides back from tackling the man I was accusing of doing these things to me.

I also thought I heard a scuffle of some sort from where Marshall sat with his attorneys, like he was ready to defend himself, and they had to remind him to be quiet.

“Now, I know what you must be thinking,” I added quickly. “Why didn’t I bring these photos to the police? Why didn’t I report my husband, who then became my ex-husband? Why did I sit in silence for so long?

“It may seem stupid to you. It may seem calculative. I’m sure there are many names one might think to call me — weak, liar, bitter, scorned. But the truth, Your Honor, is that as much as it pains me to admit it… I was just scared.”

I looked down at the worn carpet floor for only a moment before I lifted my chin again, willing myself not to cry as I met the judge’s gaze.

“I was scared of what would happen to me if I told anyone. I was afraid of not being believed. I was afraid of being punished even worse for attempting to show my abuse. And most of all, I was terrified of losing my son, my life.”

I swallowed.

“There are some things you truly cannot understand until you are experiencing them, storms that you’ll never fully feel until you are being wind-whipped and pelted with rain and holding onto whatever grounding force you can find with dear life. There were times I thought about speaking up, but every time that thought passed, my ex-husband would remind me in the very convincing way he always did that I would be fighting an uphill battle, that no one would believe that a kind, caring veterinarian would ever do such a thing.

“And it may seem silly to someone like you, Your Honor, who has likely never doubted himself a day in his life. Who has had faith in his strength and standing and position for many decades. But for a single mother without a steady job, reputable education, or anyone other than her own parents to back her — let me tell you, the story my ex-husband painted was a very believable one. And it was one I couldn’t risk.”

I heard my mom sniffle from the bench behind me, but I kept my gaze focused, the words coming easier now.

“For many years, I felt that I could handle this. I truly felt I was strong enough to deal with the hits, the bruises, the abuse.”

“This is bullshit!”

Every head snapped to Marshall, to where his attorney was whisper-shouting for him to be quiet and sit down.

“Mr. Hearst, I will have order in this courtroom,” Judge Hall said sternly. “This will be your only warning.”

He let that sink in for a long moment before he nodded for me to continue.

I cleared my throat. “I felt this way because, as I’m sure you can imagine, I will do anything for my son. He loves his father. And I believed that, though I suffered at Marshall’s hands, Sebastian never would.” I paused. “Until recently.”

I heard scuffling from my left, no doubt Marshall trying to stand and argue his case again before I finished speaking. I assumed his lawyers settled him, though. The judge arched a brow in that direction before slowly dragging his gaze back to me.

“Your Honor, my son has become more and more reluctant to visit his father in the last several months. As he grows older, he can sense things he couldn’t as a young child. He has seen the marks left on me. He notices the way I stiffen when I have to meet with his father.”

“It’s because this bitch brainwashes him!” Marshall cried out, much to the dismay of his legal team. “And you act so innocent. I only put you in your place when you need it.”

“Mr. Hearst, that is enough,” Judge Hall said, glaring down at my ex-husband. “If I hear one more peep from you, I’ll have you thrown out of my courtroom.”

I didn’t know how Kyle was still sitting after that remark. Again, I wondered if my mom was using all her strength to keep him and my father seated.

Judge Hall turned his attention back to me. “Please continue, Miss Hearst.”

Hearst.

I hated that I was still tied to him.

But that would change soon.

With a steady breath, I started again. “My son can feel it, Your Honor — all of it. And the truth is, the older he gets, the bigger he gets, and the more he starts to think for himself — the less confidence I have that it will only be me who has to handle his father’s rage. And I will tell you, in all honesty, that I will not stand for that man putting a single finger on our son. The moment it happens, the first time I hear that he hurt Sebastian? Well, it would be the last. And I would be appearing here in a very different kind of trial.”

The judge’s eyebrows raised in warning over his glasses, and he jotted something down on his notebook in front of him. I assumed he was recording that should I ever be back here on trial for murder, which I accepted — though I was fairly certain our lawyer was likely pinching the bridge of her brow and cursing me for that little slip.

“It was never my intention to take our son from Marshall,” I continued. “Not until he started showing me that Sebastian wasn’t safe with him. His need to control me has festered into an inescapable wound, one that has taken over him completely now that he sees that I am happy and moving on with my life. Marshall simply cannot handle that, he cannot accept that he has lost his control over me, that I am no longer scared, that he no longer dictates what I do and do not do with my life.

“Marshall wants you to believe that I am an unfit mother, that — should Kyle Robbins decide to leave me — I would be incapable of caring for my children. Well, to those accusations, I will let the evidence and character statements from today serve as proof that that is not the case. I have shown that I will work long, hard hours doing whatever it takes to make ends meet. I have illustrated that nothing means more to me in this world than the little boy you interviewed in your chambers, than the little girl growing inside me right at this moment.”

Though I willed myself not to, it was impossible not to get emotional with that. My eyes watered, and I sniffed back the tears and let them blur my vision as I stared up at the judge.

“Your Honor, if there is one thing I am sure of in this world, it’s that I am a great mother. I was meant to be a mother. I know, with my entire heart, that Sebastian is safest with me. That with me and with Kyle and with his baby sister who will arrive later this year, he will not just survive, but thrive. He will love and laugh and learn. He will be surrounded by people who care for him, and who will stop at nothing to see him succeed.

“So, I am asking you to see that truth with me. I am asking you to think of Sebastian and his future as you make your decision. I am asking you to keep this little boy with me, and with my fiancé, and with the home where he feels safe and warm and protected. I am asking you to believe me, even though I was too afraid to speak up before, even though I have been weak in the past. I hope you see that now, I am strong. I am resilient. And if sole custody is to be bestowed to only one parent, it should — without question — be to me, his mother. Thank you.”

I kept my head down as I returned to my seat. Our lawyer squeezed my wrist under the table to let me know I’d done well. I turned and found Kyle’s eyes shining with tears, the evidence of two of them that had fallen marring each cheek. My mother was drying her own tears. My father was beaming with pride.

“I love you,” Kyle mouthed.

“I love you, too,” I mouthed back.

My next breath felt cleaner somehow, even though no decisions were made. We sat through the closing statements from our lawyers. Marshall’s kept on with the same stories of why I was an unfit mother. I had to bite back an actual laugh when they tried, again, to use the one time I’d used recreational marijuana with Marshall. It was before I was even pregnant, and it was weed, for fuck’s sake.

When we finished, I expected the judge to call a recess. Our lawyer had warned us it could be a few hours or even a few weeks.

Instead, Judge Hall took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, slipped them back on with a heavy sigh and spoke.

“Well, I have to say, I’m always disappointed when matters of custody cannot be resolved in mediation. By the time you make it in front of me, there is a lot of animosity and cruelty between people who used to love each other, who once made vows to one another and agreed to make a life. But in this case,” he added with a shake of his head. “I believe there has been cruelty and animosity long before this custody battle.”

The judge grew silent for a moment, thinking over his words before his eyes met mine.

“Ms. Hearst, I want to thank you for sharing your story with us over the last two days.”

Every time I heard that name, it had me counting down the days to when I would change it, to when I would take Robbins as my surname and leave this part of my life firmly in the past.

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you. And as I’m not one to beat around the bush or get flowery with my words, I just want to look you in the eye right here and now and tell you one thing.” Judge Hall took off his glasses and leaned forward. “I believe you.”

My nostrils flared, tears pricking my eyes and flowing over my cheek bones before I could stop them. I didn’t wipe them away. I didn’t cry harder. I just blinked and let those silent tears fall as my heart raced and my next breath racked out of me in a shudder.

I nodded, a silent thank you, a quiet mercy.

“And Mr. Hearst,” he said, sliding his specs back into place. He looked down at his notes before shaking his head and lifting his gaze to my ex. “Sir, all I can say is shame on you.”

I let myself glance at Marshall, let myself take one moment to see his jaw tightening, his face turning a bright red before I drew my attention back to the judge.

“I am very familiar with men like you. I know how you firmly believe your education and profession protect you. I know how you hide behind a public persona when you are nothing short of a monster at home. The fact that you came to this court and tried to convince me that it is, in fact, your ex-wife who is unfit for parenting is quite comical, and in the same breath, absolutely despicable. It is my belief that every man and woman have it within themselves to make changes for the good, but I can tell that you have a long road ahead of you if that is to be your story.”

The judge looked down at his papers again, shaking his head before addressing us both.

“In my twenty-two years of serving as a judge, I have never ruled in court during a case such as this. I have always taken at least two weeks to deliberate before coming to my decision.” He shook his head, glancing at his notes before his eyes were on the courtroom again. “But, with the evidence presented before me, along with the uncontrollable outbursts from the plaintiff that I witnessed myself, I have made my decision. And I cannot, in good conscience, wait to pass my judgment.”

He caught my gaze, a soft smile on his lips before his eyes slid to Marshall. He gave him what I could only describe as the look of a disappointed father before he sat a little straighter in his chair.

“I hereby grant full custody of Sebastian Calvin Hearst to his mother, Madelyn James Hearst,” Judge Hall said. “Effective immediately.”

Marshall cursed and kicked a chair, which had the judge beating his gavel as my heart worked overtime, all the adrenaline of the day coursing through me.

“I am also ruling that your visitation with your son will be supervised, Mr. Hearst, until you have completed two-hundred-and-fifty hours of anger management courses and have successfully attended weekly AA meetings for one year. Now, I take no pleasure in keeping a father from his son, but I will have you know that I will never stand to put a child’s safety in jeopardy. You prove to me that you can be the man I think you have inside you, and you will have your visitation rights invoked. You will not harm that young boy, Mr. Hearst. This is your chance to turn things around for you and for your family. I truly hope you take it. But believe me when I say that should you not, I have no problem doubling down.”

“Fuck this and fuck you,” Marshall spat to the horror of the entire courtroom.

His lawyers tried without any luck to get him to calm down, grappling at his suit sleeves to no avail.

“If I’m going to have my visitation supervised, I don’t even want it.”

My heart thumped hard in the silence that followed that statement.

“Be very careful with your actions right now, Mr. Hearst,” Judge Hall warned, his patience growing thin.

“I shouldn’t have to put up with all this.” Marshall turned to where Kyle sat now, glaring. “If you want the kid so badly, you can have him.”

“I’ve had enough,” Judge Hall said, his voice booming. “Consider that verbal statement your surrender of your rights as Sebastian’s father, Mr. Hearst. I will accept the defendant’s request for stepparent adoption.”

Marshall flopped back down into his chair with a sneer and a wave of his hand like he couldn’t care less.

The rest of the words blurred in my mind, as if my soul had floated up to the top of the courtroom and I was watching everything from above. It was all muted, distorted, distant.

My husband’s temper had caught up to him. He’d shown his ass in court like I never thought possible. Gone was his restraint, his fake smile and professional demeanor.

In the blink of an eye, he’d shown his true colors to every person in this room.

The rest of it happened like an out-of-body experience. Eventually, I was being wrapped in a hug by my parents. Kyle was kissing me and taking me by the hand as we walked out of the courtroom, the courthouse, and into the drizzling, cool rain.

Thankfully, due mostly to Giana’s gentle maneuvering of the media, there were no cameras waiting for us. She had been a godsend, communicating our desperate plea for privacy during this time, and working some sort of magic to where the press was actually respecting that.

I didn’t know how long it was before we were in the car, before we were picking Sebastian up from Braden’s condo, before we were sitting at Sebastian’s favorite pizza place and explaining everything to him.

There was laughter. There was sadness. There were so many mixed emotions I couldn’t name them all.

When we finally made it home, my mom and dad hugged me tight and implored me to get some rest before they made their way to our guest suite out back. I thought I thanked them for coming. I hoped I conveyed how much it meant to me that they were there, that they had been with me and with Kyle and with their grandson.

I couldn’t be sure.

It was all surreal, even when Kyle and I climbed into Sebastian’s bed on either side of him and answered every question he had for us. We knew he’d go through many emotions after tonight, and we assured him we’d be there for all of it. But tonight, he cuddled us and told us he loved us, and most of his questions were about his baby sister. He wanted to know when she was coming, even though we’d told him several times. He wanted to know how big she was now. He wanted to know what color we would paint her room. He wanted to know if he could help pick out her first toys. He wanted to know what we’d name her.

I had a feeling it was him fixating on something happy to avoid the truth of the day — that, at least for now, he would no longer have Marshall in his life.

If the stepparent adoption really did go through, that would be true forever. Because I knew once Kyle made Sebastian his, he would keep him from my monstrous ex at all costs.

I was content to let my son ride out the emotions in his own time. I promised him I’d be there for him no matter what. Kyle promised the same. In fact, Kyle even asked Sebastian if he’d like to talk to someone who wasn’t us about everything that had gone on. He explained it would be a way to talk about everything without fear of hurting anyone’s feelings.

At first, Sebastian had shaken his head. But then, he’d shrugged and said he didn’t know, that maybe he would like that.

I knew I’d be looking into a therapist first thing in the morning.

I wanted him to survive this and come out stronger on the other side. I wanted him to be able to communicate everything he felt, to have space for the anger and the sadness and the resentment, and anything else he might feel.

By the time Sebastian was asleep, Kyle and I were bleary-eyed and walking like zombies into the living room. Kyle pulled my feet into his lap and massaged them as I moaned and sank into the cushions.

“You were amazing today,” he said.

I blew out a breath. “I don’t feel amazing.”

“It’s not easy,” Kyle said, and I knew he understood. “But… I wish my mom would have had the strength you do. I wish she would have saved me from…”

His voice drifted, and I sat up, my brows inching together.

God.

I hadn’t even thought of this piece of it.

Of course, it would hit close to home for Kyle. Of course, he would see himself in Sebastian, see the possible future of what Bas could have faced had I not stepped in, had we not fought for him.

“Kyle,” I breathed, reaching out for his hand.

He slid his palm over mine, squeezing once and lifting my knuckles to his mouth for a kiss before he dropped my hand and went back to massaging me.

“I know it wasn’t easy, and I know there will be many other battles we have to fight. Who knows what will happen in a year or two. We may have a time where Marshall has partial custody again, or at the very least, visitation. The stepparent adoption may not go through.” Kyle shrugged. “But one thing I do know is that you are the most incredible woman I have ever met in my life, Madelyn.” His blue eyes held mine steady. “What you did today, what you do for this family every day…” He shook his head. “You’re amazing. And I love you. And I’m so thankful for you, I want to write a fucking poem or something.”

I laughed at that. “Oh, God, please don’t. I remember your notes from high school. You couldn’t even spell restaurant.”

“Hey, to be fair, that’s a really fucking hard word to spell.”

We both smiled, a comfortable silence slipping between us.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, nodding toward my swollen belly.

“Okay, actually,” I said. “A little tired. My back hurts. But otherwise, I’m okay.”

“Hungry?”

“Always.”

He smirked, helping me stand and pulling me into the kitchen. He sat me at the island and poured a tall glass of my favorite sparkling grape juice, and then proceeded to make me the best grilled cheese of my life.

I was halfway through it when he leaned over the island with a mischievous grin. “So, energy has been feeling decent lately?”

“If you’re asking if I want to ride you, good sir, the answer is absofuckinglutely,” I said around a mouthful of cheese. “But first, I’m going to finish every bite of this and lick the plate clean.”

Kyle chuckled. “Not what I was getting at, but very happy to know where this evening is headed.” His eyes were shining in the low light of the kitchen. “I asked because I have a surprise.”

“A surprise?” I asked, again, around a mouthful of food. Apparently, I didn’t have it in me to put this sandwich down.

“Your parents are staying for another ten days.”

I blinked. “Uh… they are?”

“They are. And I have a suitcase half-packed for you in our bedroom, but you’ll need to go through it and add anything you might want that I’ve forgotten. I’m phenomenal at many things,” he added with a salacious grin. “But packing, admittedly, is not one of them.”

I chewed on the last bite of my sandwich for a long time, washing it down with a gulp of grape juice before I arched a brow at him. “Okay, and what exactly am I packing for?”

“A baby moon.”

“A what?”

Kyle rounded the island, sliding his hands over my belly before they trailed up to frame my face. God, I loved when he held me like that, when his hands cradled my neck, and his thumbs tilted my chin up, when his eyes stared deep into mine.

“I want to spoil you, Madelyn,” he said. “I have a pretty good hunch your first pregnancy wasn’t exactly rainbows and roses. And so far, this one hasn’t been much better. I had the season. We had the court case. We moved to a new house, moved Sebastian to a new school… it’s been one thing after another.”

He kissed my forehead, holding his lips there a long time before his gaze found mine again.

“And I want a vacation with you. You, and me. Just the two of us. I want to buy you the most expensive massages I can afford, and see your beautiful body relaxing in an infinity pool overlooking the ocean, and make love to you in a bed meant for kings and queens.”

“Okay, you have my attention.”

He smirked. “Everything happened so fast for us. We never really even got one real, traditional date. Granted, nothing has ever been traditional with us — and you know what, I love that. I fucking love that our story is ours and ours alone. But,” he added, tapping my nose. “This is the last chance we have to take a moment for ourselves before we become a family of four. And while I can’t fucking wait for that day, there’s nothing I’d love more than to whisk you away to a tropical island and spoil you rotten for a week before we slip into our new life.”

“Damn it, Kyle,” I cursed, swiping at the tears sliding down my cheeks. “I’m too hormonal for this shit.”

He smiled against my lips before kissing me long and slow, his hands massaging my neck and holding me to him.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“It’s a hell yes,” I said on a laugh. “But… when do we leave?”

“Well, at first, I wanted to leave in the morning,” he said. “But then I thought about it, and I think we should spend a few days with Sebastian first. We can take off on Saturday?”

I shook my head, pulling him in for a kiss and wrapping my arms around his neck. “God, I love you. Do you know that?”

“I do, but I’m very content to let you show me just how much, if you’d really like to,” he said with a grin, and then I was in his arms, and his lips were devouring me on the way back to our bedroom.

Our bedroom.

Our home.

Our life.

Finally, the storm was settling, the waters calming, the sun peeking through the gray clouds in the distance. With the trial out of the way, I saw nothing but pure gold and possibility.

I saw a luxurious week away with my soon-to-be husband.

I saw a pregnancy so unlike the first one I had, one where I was safe and cared for and loved.

I saw the birth of our daughter, the growth of our family.

I saw our wedding.

Each vision filled my heart with more joy than it knew how to hold, and I was nearly bursting with it when Kyle laid me down in the cool sheets and took his time stripping every article of clothing from my body.

He worshipped me like I was a goddess, like every inch of my skin must be touched and kissed and praised before he dared to slide inside me.

All the hell I’d been through, it was worth it.

Because I had firmly landed in heaven.