Marcus Reed slammed his fist against the steering wheel so hard the horn blared into the empty night. 72 hours. That's all he had left before a judge would decide if he deserved to keep his daughter. 72 hours before the state could rip Lily from his arms and hand her over to a woman who'd already abandoned her once. He was broke, exhausted, running out of options.
But what Marcus didn't know, what he couldn't possibly know, was that in the next 30 minutes, he would make a decision that would change everything. And the father of the two strangers he was about to help would be sitting behind that judge's bench. The rain came down like God himself was trying to wash the whole damn world away. Marcus Reed gripped the steering wheel of his 15-year-old Honda Civic, squinting through a windshield the wipers couldn't keep up with. His shoulders ached.
His back screamed. Fourteen hours he'd worked today: eight under car hoods at Patterson's Auto, six more slinging coffee at the diner on Fifth Street. His hands still smelled like motor oil and burnt coffee grounds. "Come on," he muttered, leaning forward as if those extra few inches would help him see through the sheets of water. Come on.
Come on. Lightning cracked across the sky, turning the whole world white for half a second. In that flash, Marcus saw the highway stretching out ahead of him, empty, dark, and endless, just like his bank account, just like his options. He thought about Lily, probably asleep on the couch right now, waiting for him. Mrs. Patterson from next door would be watching her reading one of those romance novels she loved so much while Lily clutched her stuffed elephant and fought to keep her eyes open.
"Daddy always comes home," Lily would say. She'd been saying it every night for 3 years. Ever since Victoria walked out, Marcus' jaw tightened at the thought of his ex-wife. Victoria, the woman who'd left them without a word, who'd disappeared for 3 years. No calls, no letters, no child support, nothing.
Just gone. And now, now she wanted Lily back. Now that she'd found some new boyfriend with money, now that she'd gotten herself a fancy lawyer, now she suddenly remembered she had a daughter. "Over my dead body," Marcus said to the empty car. His phone buzzed on the passenger seat.
He glanced at it, a text from his public defender, Mr. Warren. Reminder: custody hearing Monday, 9:00 a.m. Please arrive early, and Marcus, try to get some sleep this weekend. You need to look sharp. Sleep, right? When was the last time Marcus had actually slept?
Really slept. Not just collapsed for a few hours between shifts. He couldn't remember. Another bolt of lightning. Another explosion of thunder that seemed to shake the whole car.
Marcus reached for the radio, desperate for something to fill the silence to drown out the voice in his head that kept whispering, "You're going to lose her. You're going to lose everything." The radio crackled with static. Every station was garbage in this storm. He turned it off and drove in silence.
The highway was empty. Had been for the last 20 miles. Nobody else was stupid enough to be out in weather like this. Smart people were home warm and dry, probably sitting in front of their TVs with their families. Marcus couldn't remember the last time he'd watched TV with Lily.
Couldn't remember the last time he'd done anything with her that didn't involve rushing to get somewhere or collapsing from exhaustion. That's what Victoria's lawyer is going to say. He thought that you're never there, that you work too much, that you can't provide. "I provide," Marcus growled. "I provide every damn day."