Chapter 10 - Faith #2
“We can’t give him that ammunition,” Ryker continued, his voice steadier now, like he was arguing a case instead of ripping my heart out. “Your freedom is what matters. Getting you out of here. Proving your innocence. Everything else …” He gestured vaguely between us. “Everything else has to wait.”
I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. Because if I opened my mouth, I might tell him the truth: That he didn’t know me like he thought he did. That if he knew what I’d done in my past, all the ways I’d failed, all the secrets I kept locked away, he’d be running from this room.
Ryker was right to pull away. He just didn’t know he was right for all the wrong reasons. If he saw the real me, he’d understand that some people weren’t meant to be loved.
“You’re right,” I finally managed. “The case comes first.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Disappointment? Relief? But it was gone before I could name it.
After evaluating me for another moment, Ryker cleared his throat and moved back.
His gaze shifted to the bandage on my head. “Is your headache manageable? Any new symptoms?”
“I’m fine.” Because in this room, with him, I was. Or at least closer to fine than I’d been for hours. Even if we could never be more than lawyer and client.
“Are they treating you okay?” The question carried an edge that suggested someone would answer to him if the response wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
I bit back the real answer about the heckling and shouting. Because nothing says innocent until proven guilty like a good old-fashioned verbal beatdown.
“They’re treating me fine,” I lied.
Ryker motioned for me to sit down, then took the chair across from me, his eyes lingering on the cuffs around my wrists. Something dark flickered across his features when he seemed to notice the slight red marks where the metal had chafed my skin. At least they were cuffed in the front this time.
I placed my hands on the table, grateful that he reached out and touched my skin, centering me.
“I just have to stay here until the hearing, right?”
Ryker swallowed hard. “If the judge grants you bail.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“You’ll have to stay in lockup until the trial.”
My stomach dropped. Truth was, being in this jail cell was brutal, and the prospect of staying in for an extended period of time made me feel lightheaded. “How long will that take?”
“A while,” he said quietly.
A while. The words hit me like cold water. Waking up every day in a cell, carrying this weight with nowhere to set it down.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“Jail cells can be terrifying.”
“No.” I met his eyes. “I’m scared of what I might’ve done. What if I’m not who I thought I was?”
“Don’t say that.” His hand tightened on mine, as if he could absorb whatever pain I was carrying. “Don’t ever say that to anyone else. They can twist your words against you.”
I swallowed, nodding.
“Have you remembered anything else?”
I shook my head. “No, but I cried so hard earlier, I think my brain needs a chance to reset before I can remember anything.”
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to tear down these walls with his bare hands, bust me out of here himself, consequences be damned.
“I hate this for you,” he said, his voice rough. “I hate that you’re here. That you went through that alone.”
“I’m not alone now,” I whispered.
Something softened in his expression, but the storm in his eyes didn’t fade. “No. You’re not.”
We sat in silence for a few beats, letting the weight of what was growing between us settle into our bones. Eventually, Ryker leaned forward.
“Faith. Think back to the guy in the woods. Did he look familiar at all?”
The darkness of those woods crashed back into my mind. The memory would haunt my dreams forever.
“It was dark.”
Ryker’s jaw tightened. “The guy’s name was Daniel Kearns.”
I didn’t think it was possible to have an avalanche of ice crash through my veins in my exhausted state. But I was wrong.
“Oh my God.”
“You know him?”
Know was such a small word for the tornado of memories suddenly ripping through my head. The foster home on Elm Street flashed through my mind.
“He lived next door to one of my foster families.” The words scraped against my throat. Ryker’s expression grew more troubled, but his grip on my hands never wavered. If anything, he held on tighter. “When I was sixteen.”
Daniel Kearns. The kid who used to peer through my bedroom window.
Who followed me home from school with that creepy smile.
Who cornered me behind the garage that one summer evening and who’d been harassing me on an off for years.
I should have suspected it might be him, but as terrible as everything had gotten between us, I guess I never truly expected it to end in death.
My hands started shaking, the metal cuffs rattling against the table.
Ryker tracked the movement, and fresh apprehension crossed his features. His eyes darted between my trembling hands and my face, reading every micro-expression I couldn’t hide.
If my freedom didn’t literally depend on this information, I bet he would have ended the conversation right here.
He would have pulled me back into his arms and let me fall apart.
But this was like having to push through the pain of cleaning a wound to prevent infection.
We couldn’t skip this part, no matter how much it hurt.
Still, he wanted to make it as bearable as possible.
Ryker moved his chair closer, the metal legs scraping against the floor until our knees were touching. Like he knew the contact steadied me because it was solid and real.
“Breathe,” he said softly. “Whatever he did to you then, he can’t hurt you now.”
“But … this changes everything, doesn’t it?”
The words hung between us like a death sentence.
“There’s more.” His voice was careful now. “Do you know who his father is?”
I shut my eyes, trying to remember, but I could only fixate on the torment Daniel had brought to my life.
“Daniel is Judge Kearns’s son.”
Right. I remember him bragging about that.
“The most prominent judge in the city,” Ryker continued.
The blood drained from my face so fast, I thought I might pass out.
“Look at me.” Ryker’s voice cut through the panic. His hands came up to cup my face again, forcing my gaze to stay locked on his. “Look at me, not at the walls. Not at the cuffs. Just me.”
I did as he asked, my heartbeat slowing down. His thumb traced my cheekbone, and I focused on that single point of contact. The steady rhythm of it. The warmth. But the ominous weight of it all didn’t lighten.
“I’m finished, aren’t I?” My voice barely made it above a whisper.
“It’s not ideal,” Ryker said, which was lawyer speak for you’re in deep shit.
“You can’t defend a woman accused of killing a judge’s son.” I met his eyes. “That will be the end of your career.”
“We already had this debate, and I’m not having it again.” Something fierce flashed across his face. “Besides, my career means nothing if the cost is you,” he said. “Do you understand me? Nothing.” My throat swelled. “I’ve got you, Faith. I won’t let you fall.”
For over two months, I’d been denying what was happening between us. But sitting here, watching him risk everything for me, I couldn’t pretend anymore. It was clear just how deep his feelings ran.
And I could see in his eyes that he wouldn’t have this debate again. That nothing I could say would get him to walk away and save himself.
While that made me feel incredibly cared for, cherished even, it also made me feel selfish.
I didn’t want to be a drain on anyone. In the times I’d let myself imagine being with Ryker, I’d envisioned adding to his life, not jeopardizing everything he’d worked for.
Not pulling him down into the wreckage of my past.
“I don’t want to ruin you,” I whispered.
“Then let me decide what ruins me.” His voice was firm, brooking no argument.
“Now,” he said, shifting gears, “just because the victim is prominent doesn’t mean the facts changed.
The self-defense theory is strong. And we got a small win.
” Something shifted in his expression—cautious hope.
“Fingerprint results came back. Daniel’s prints were on the handle of your knife. ”
I blinked. “Is that good?”
“It means he had his hands on it at some point. There was a struggle.” Ryker’s jaw tightened.
“Now, does it disprove premeditation? No. Wolfe will argue you brought the knife, he grabbed it, and you took it back. But it’s better than your prints being the only ones on that handle.
It supports your memory of fighting back, of screaming for him to stop.
” He held my gaze. “It’s not a slam dunk, but it’s something we can work with. ”
A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest that was fragile, but real.
“If the victim were anyone else, I’d feel confident you’d walk out of that bail hearing.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “Even with this revelation, the facts are still on your side.”
“Then what should we be worried about?”
Fear flickered in his eyes.
“This judge might use everything at his disposal to make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison.” The gravity in his voice made my body go cold. “Faith, this just became a high-profile case. And we’re about to find out exactly how far a father’s grief can reach.”
But even as he delivered this devastating news, his thumbs kept moving across my knuckles in small, soothing circles. Like even in the face of impossible odds, he couldn’t stop trying to comfort me.
The gesture cracked through the walls I’d built to survive foster care. Here was this man, this brilliant lawyer, choosing to stand beside me in my darkest hour. Not because he had to. Not because he pitied me. But because somewhere along the way, I’d become someone worth fighting for.
The realization terrified me almost as much as the murder charge.
Because caring for someone, letting them in, meant they could witness your destruction. And if Judge Kearns had his way, Ryker would have a front-row seat to mine.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to ask the question I’d been avoiding. “Okay. What happens next?”
“The bail hearing.” His expression was carefully neutral, but I caught the flicker of worry he couldn’t quite hide.
My knee started bouncing again under the table.
“So, what are my chances of being granted bail?”