Chapter 98 Custody
Chapter 98 Custody
By the time we pulled into the driveway, I felt wrung out in a way that had nothing to do with heavy lifting.
It wasn’t sore muscles or aching feet, it was the bone-deep fatigue that comes from absorbing too much newness all at once, from realizing that the world might actually be changing for the better.
Dad had spent the whole day showing me every inch of Marrow Industries. The tour had been relentless...in the best way.
The welding shop, where sparks leapt and hissed. The fabrication floor, filled with the clang of steel on steel. The blueprint room, its walls covered in sketches and colored thumbtacks. Estimating, where numbers told stories. Engineering, humming with the quiet focus of a dozen minds at work. Fleet maintenance, where trucks and cranes rested like sleeping giants.
I’d walked more today than I thought possible. And somehow, even as exhaustion weighed down my limbs, I couldn’t stop smiling. Not after hearing Dad introduce me as family. Not as employee. Not as “the kid.” Family. The word had echoed in my head the whole drive home, filling up spaces I didn’t know were empty.
Mom was already in the kitchen, pulling a casserole from the oven. The air was thick with the smell of roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, and warm dinner rolls. Nothing fancy. Just home.
“Jaxon,” Mom called, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Can you grab the plates?”
“Yep.”
Now, it didn’t feel strange. I knew where everything was, plates in the top cabinet, silverware in the second drawer, napkins on the pantry shelf. I set the table while Dad helped Xavier wash his hands, both of them laughing about soap bubbles.
Ellie wandered in, her hair pulled back and wearing the most ridiculous pajama pants I’d ever seen, covered in tiny, multicolored books.
I stared. “...Are those books?”
She looked down, then beamed. “My reading pants.”
I blinked. “Your what?”
“My reading pants,” she repeated, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
Dad laughed from the sink. “Don’t question it.”
Ellie sauntered to the counter and snatched a dinner roll just as Mom turned around. “Hey!”
Ellie grinned, unapologetic. “Quality testing.”
“You stole bread.”
“I quality-tested bread.”
Mom rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “I raised a thief.”
Dad pointed at me. “Technically, we have two.”
I groaned, trying not to smile. “I said I was sorry.”
He grinned. “And I’ll never let you forget the lobster.”
Ellie started laughing. “I don’t think any of us will.”
Xavier climbed into his booster seat as Mom passed out plates. Without thinking, I started cutting his chicken into tiny pieces, something I’d done for years. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until Ellie watched me for a long, quiet moment.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Nothing.”
I frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“I just like watching you be a big brother.”
Heat crept up my neck. “It’s just cutting his food.”
“I know. But you’ve probably done it a thousand times.”
I glanced at the plate. “More.”
“Ten thousand?”
“Probably.”
She didn’t say anything else, just squeezed my hand under the table.
Dinner was easy. Dad talked about a new project. Mom shared a story about a customer who’d tried to pay with expired coupons. Ellie bragged about memorizing nearly thirty names at work.
Dad looked as proud as I’d ever seen him. “I knew you would.”
“I’ve got fifty-two to go.”
“You counted?”
She grinned. “I have a spreadsheet.”
Dad looked at Mom. “Should I be impressed or concerned?”
Mom smiled. “Both.”
Laughter filled the kitchen until Dad’s phone buzzed on the counter.
He checked the screen. “Nathaniel.”
His smile faded as he stood and walked into the living room, phone pressed to his ear.
We barely noticed. Nathaniel called all the time... about work, contracts, paperwork. I helped Xavier spear green beans with his little fork.
“You’ve got it.”
“I did it!” he crowed.
“You sure did.”
But after a few minutes, the conversation faded. Mom glanced at the living room. “John?”
No answer.
A moment later, Dad walked back in. Instantly, the air shifted. His easy smile was gone. His shoulders were tight. He still held the phone in a white-knuckled grip.
He looked directly at me. “Jaxon.”
Every instinct in me went rigid. Something was wrong.
I set my fork down slowly. “…Yeah?”
Dad didn’t sit. “I need everyone to stay seated.”
The room went still. Even Xavier looked up, silent.
Mom was the first to speak. “What happened?”
Dad drew a slow breath. “Nathaniel just got off the phone with family court.”
My stomach dropped, icy and hollow.
Family court.
No. Please, no.
Dad’s eyes met mine. “They’ve scheduled an emergency custody hearing.”
The world faded around me. “When?”
His voice was gentle. “Tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow. The word echoed, impossible.
“Tomorrow?” My voice barely worked.
He nodded. “Your mother retained her own attorney this afternoon.”
Everything inside me went cold.
“And she’s petitioning the court…” He hesitated, steadying himself. “…for full custody of Xavier.”
The kitchen fell silent, the weight of tomorrow pressing down on all of us.
The words didn't register. Not immediately. They hit my ears. I heard them. I understood every single one. But my brain refused to accept them.
Full custody of Xavier.
No.
No, no, no.
Dad had to be wrong. Nathaniel had to be wrong.
There had to be some mistake.
"...Jaxon?"
Mom’s voice floated to me, muffled and distorted, as if we were both sinking underwater.
I stared at Dad, fighting to make sense of the world. “She…” My throat closed up, thick and raw. “…She wants Xavier?”
Dad nodded, his face tight with grief. “Yes.”
“No.” It slipped from my lips, raw and instinctive. “No.”
I shoved my chair back so fast it shrieked across the hardwood. The sound cracked through the silence, bouncing off the walls.
My heart pounded, wild and deafening, drowning out everything except its own frantic rhythm.
I stood, hands clenched, vision blurring at the edges. What could I do? I didn’t have money. I barely had a job. No house. No legal claim on Xavier; nothing but a promise and a bond no court would recognize. I was just eighteen. Just a kid, facing a real lawyer, a real courtroom, a real fight.
My breath came faster, shallower. No. I had to think. There had to be something, anything, I could do.
“I can…” I started pacing, words spilling out fast and desperate. “I can get another job.”
No one interrupted. I circled the dining room, mind racing. “I’ll work nights. Weekends, too. I’ll sleep less. I’ll…” My hands tangled in my hair, pulling. “I can sell my truck.” My truck? I didn’t even own one. The thought didn’t matter; nothing mattered except fixing this.
“I don’t need clothes. I don’t need…” I searched the room, eyes wild. “I don’t need anything.” Every sound was suddenly too loud... the hum of the fridge, the tick of the clock, the shifting of someone in their seat.
Xavier’s small voice broke through, trembling. “Jay?”
It was too much. Everything was too much.
“I’ll live in my car,” I choked out. “I don’t care. I’ll figure it out. I’ll…”
The air vanished from the room. I gasped, lungs refusing to fill. I clawed for breath, grabbed the back of a dining chair and squeezed, knuckles turning white. I clung to the wood like a lifeline.
“I promised him,” I whispered into the silence.
No one spoke.
“I promised.”