Chapter 17 #3
It was all too much to process in a well-appointed lawyer’s office, and I couldn’t think of a single word to say back. Luckily, I didn’t have to as Marty approached us.
He gave Beau the man-shake-hug hybrid, smiled, asked after Clara, then warmly introduced himself to me.
He was Beau’s age though much less rugged, wearing fancier clothes, clean-shaven with creases on his forehead and at the edges of his eyes.
He was wearing an expensive-looking dress shirt with the collar open, nice slacks.
He was exceptionally handsome and not totally clean cut in a way that would put me off.
A glance at his hand told me he wasn’t married, which interested me from an anthropological standpoint more than anything.
There was an abundance of single, attractive men in this town.
I thought it was a well-kept secret, purely because of the views and Nora’s bakery, but it was a hotspot for men too.
After we exchanged pleasantries, he took me to his office. And in the same way that Finn had at the station, he stolidly, politely told Beau to wait outside.
Although I was thankful for the privacy, I suddenly felt sweaty and like the room was spinning.
The police station was bad enough. But to be here, around so much subtle wealth, with a lawyer I could never afford, I felt two feet tall.
I felt small, nervous, young. Stupid.
But Marty didn’t feed into that. If he noticed my nerves, he didn’t let on. He was warm, casual, and non-judgmental.
“Beau wants to pay for this,” I blurted in the middle of the small talk he was indulging me with.
Marty didn’t display any emotion as he looked at me for a beat before nodding knowingly. “Of course, he does.”
I didn’t want to ask him about the look, the nod, the words. I couldn’t handle any more information.
“I don’t want him to pay for this,” I continued, shame wrapping around my ribs. “But I also doubt I can pay for your services entirely up front.” I wanted to be sick. Wanted to run from this room, for the earth to swallow me up. But there was no escape, so I had to bury my pride.
“I can pay you. I will pay you,” I declared, remembering all the past-due bills at the trailer, all the people my mother owed money to, the reputation she had that stuck to me like glue until I moved.
“But if you would be willing or open to some kind of repayment plan, I would be much appreciative,” I added, feeling as if my throat were closing over. “I will pay. I’m good for it.”
I hoped he’d take me at my word. If we were in the town I spent my formative years in, no one would take a Morgan at their word. My mother had burned enough bridges, racked up enough debts, and fucked over enough people to ensure that our word was worth less than the paper it was written on.
Oh, how I wanted to be in a position where I never blinked at a bill, never worried about money. Never had to demean myself in front of anyone. Never felt pitied.
I would, I promised myself. I would never worry about money, never count pennies. One day, I would be at a grocery store and buy whatever I wanted without looking at the price.
Never would I have to half beg a lawyer to offer me a payment plan. Never would I again feel this level of guilt and shame.
Marty, to his credit, did not look upon me with pity or even annoyance. He looked at me like I was a respectable person to be trusted.
“We can work something out. Let’s get to the important part—getting you divorced.”
Unfortunately, I had a decent amount of experience with lawyers, thanks to my mother and husband, and never had they been concerned with the problem at hand before ensuring they’d get paid. Then again, in those situations, they were smart enough to know payment might’ve been an issue.
My body was tense, prepped for battle, to defend myself, and protect against attacks. But Marty’s entire outward energy was calm. Caring.
I let myself relax a little.
“Sit.” He gestured to a chair. “Tea, coffee, shot of tequila?”
There was a twinkle to his smile, and I returned it, though mine might’ve been a little wonky.
“I’ll just take the divorce for now,” I replied sheepishly.
He chuckled. “That, we can do. Walk me through everything, and I’ll make this bastard wish he was never born.”
Although my past, especially my past with Waylon, was something I promised myself I’d never divulge to someone I knew, let alone a stranger—albeit someone with a law degree—I found myself telling him the entire story.
And I found myself feeling something else I hadn’t in a while.
Hope.
BEAU
Hannah had woken up two beasts inside of me.
One that longed for violence, revenge, to claim her brutally, own every inch of her skin, and make it mine.
The other, a softer, more vulnerable creature, who wanted to take care of her. Wanted to ensure that she never had marks on her skin again. Wanted to make her laugh. Give her a home. A family.
Both of those beasts had been sated today. Though the former did not get the blood he desired. However, gaining a form of justice helped, ensuring that Hannah was well on her way to severing the tie she had to that piece of shit.
Again, like at the police station, I was made to sit outside the room.
Because it was inappropriate for me to be present for those conversations.
Because I was only her employer. Nothing more than the man who paid her.
She was so much more to me, but I would never have the right to know what was going on in her life, for her to be mine.
After those visits were done, we arrived at my father’s house. He greeted her warmly with a hug, then Clara crawled into her lap as she told her about her day. We went and got pizza, laughing in a booth together, Clara beaming over the newfound freedom of just going to a restaurant.
It felt right, like we were a family.
Like this was meant to be. What I’d been waiting for. What I had always wanted.
Except it wasn’t forever. Hannah had a whole life ahead of her. She was still technically fucking married to a man who had tried to ruin her life.
The last thing she needed was a man like me, a man fucking older than her, trying to chain her down again. Never mind it was against the fucking line to make a move on her. I was the man who signed her checks, I was older, the power imbalance was glaring, and she was still vulnerable.
No.
We were not a family.
Hannah would never be mine.
But something had to give, something had to change for me to know that. To make sure that option was something I could never cash in on.
I had to do the one thing I promised myself I’d never do again.
I had to hurt Hannah.
For her own good.