Hundred and Sixty Three

Hundred and Sixty Three
The marble steps of the courthouse felt endless beneath my feet. Each one rang under the heels of my shoes as I walked down hand in hand with Declan. 

It felt like the whole world was watching me.

They were, in a way. The paparazzi hadn’t gone anywhere. Cameras were flashing, and reporters still shouting, their voices overlapping in a garbled storm.

“Declan! Will you ever forgive her for keeping your son from you?”

“Miss Whitefield, do you expect this to be settled out of court?”

I wanted to shrink into myself, vanish into the cracks of the steps. But Declan’s hand was warm and steady, intertwined with mine, his body angled like a shield.

And then Emma appeared.

Of course she did, all immaculate, composed, her coat cinched at the waist, her hair shining like glass. She paused halfway down the steps, her lawyer flanking her, and gave the crowd a practiced smile that made me want to scream.

“Thank you all for your support,” she said to the cameras, as if she were running for office. “Today was about Noah’s best interests. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, for him to have the life he deserves.”

My blood boiled.

She had never even spoken to him.

Declan stopped walking.

I felt his body tense beside me. His hand left mine, fists clenching at his sides.

“Declan,” I whispered, grabbing his arm. “Don’t say anything.”

But he was already moving.

He strode toward his mother, his voice cutting through the noise with the kind of authority that silenced even the most aggressive photographers.

“Enough.”

Emma turned, her smile faltering for the first time. “Declan, son…”

“No,” he snapped, his voice like thunder. “If you fight her, you fight me. Do you understand that?”

The crowd hushed. Even the cameras seemed to pause, waiting.

Emma’s chin lifted, regal and cold. “I am fighting for my grandson.”

“You’re fighting to humiliate her,” Declan shot back. “You’ve dragged my son’s name through the mud, dragged Willow through the mud, and for what? To make yourself feel powerful?”

Emma’s lips pressed thin. “I am protecting Noah from a life of instability.”

Declan’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “Instability? He has more love and security with Willow than he ever would in your gilded cage. You’ve already lost your son, Mother. Don’t think for a second you’ll take mine.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Emma’s face flushed. “Declan, be careful what you say in public.”

“No.” He stepped closer, towering over her, his voice a blade now. “Lay off the media storm. Lay off Willow. Lay off Noah. Because when this is over, you and I are done. You will never speak to me again after this shit you’ve pulled. Do you hear me? Never.”

Emma actually flinched. Just a flicker, but I saw it.

The cameras went wild, flashes exploding around them. Reporters shouted, hungry for more, but Declan didn’t give them another word. He turned on his heel and marched back toward me, his jaw set, his eyes still burning.

I stood frozen, my heart in my throat. I’d never seen him like that before. So unrestrained, so raw. He wad more media trained than anyone I had ever seen. And now…like this…in public.

And he had done it for me. For us.

Before he reached me, a voice came at my side.

“You chose well.”

I turned, startled. Jacob stood a few steps away, hands shoved into his coat pockets, watching the scene with a somber expression. His face looked older than it had that morning, wearier, but there was no bitterness in his eyes.

“What?” I asked, my voice small.

He nodded toward Declan, who was now fending off a swarm of reporters trying to get a quote. “He’ll always take care of you. That’s clear.”

“Jacob…” I felt tears hit my eyes.

He gave me a sad half-smile. “Don’t cry. Not here.”

I blinked furiously, forcing the tears back. “Thank you. For what you said in there. I didn’t expect…” My voice cracked. “I didn’t expect you to defend me.”

Jacob shrugged, looking down at his shoes. “It was the truth. You’re the best mother Noah could ever have. No one can take that from you.”

The moment stretched between us, heavy with everything we’d been through. Years of trying, failing, hurting each other. Years of loving Noah in our own ways.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For all of it. For what I put you through.”

Jacob’s jaw clenched. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry too. For forcing myself into your life, and Noah’s. For trying to be something I wasn’t.”

I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “You were everything. For a long time, you were all I had. And I could never have raised Noah rightly without you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

His eyes met mine then, glossy with unshed tears. He gave me a small, broken smile. “I love you, Willow. Not in the way I used to. But I always will.”

The tears slipped free this time, no matter how hard I tried to stop them. “I love you too, Jacob. And I always will.”

Declan returned then, sliding his arm around my shoulders, nodding at Jacob. His glare was still sharp enough to cut steel, but when he looked at me, it softened instantly.

“Let’s go,” he murmured.

I nodded, leaning into him. But before we turned, I looked back at Jacob.

He gave me a nod, small and steady. A silent promise in our gaze: We’ll figure this out. For Noah.