Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
On the day of Josh’s court hearing, Paula kept herself busy. She couldn’t help but worry for the young boy who had gone through so much at an early age.
Although the DA and defense had worked out a plea deal, in juvenile court the judge could ask for testimony on the case before they accepted or modified the agreement. The assigned judge was notorious for wanting the whole story.
After taking the statement of the latest victim in a string of convenience store robberies, Paula checked the time. She still had an hour to kill before she had to go to court.
She paused to think about all Josh had been through—the abuse from his mother and her boyfriends, the hit-and-run accident and drug dealing for which he was now facing the consequences, and his suicide attempt almost a year ago.
He was lucky he had James and Laura to take care of him now.
He’d won the lottery when the two of them decided they wanted to be his foster parents.
Paula hadn’t seen much of him herself, but the day of the confession she could see that his regret was genuine and not only because he had been caught.
She hoped the judge would see things the same way.
She allowed her mind to drift back to previous weekend.
She still couldn’t quite make sense of Jackson’s reaction to her home.
He hadn’t punished her for the mess, hadn’t been upset or disgusted as she had feared.
If anything, he’d taken it in his stride, offering quiet support instead of criticism.
That was what threw her the most.
She had braced for judgment, for that disappointed sigh she’d heard a thousand times before—from her mother, from her father, from teachers and relatives who expected her to fall in line. Sit still, stop fidgeting, don’t make noise, why can’t you just ? —
She swallowed hard, pressing her fingertips against her temples, as if that could keep the memories at bay.
Jackson had seen her, looked past the chaos, the clutter, the total lack of control in her space, and he hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t even hesitated.
A slow burn crawled up her neck, making her feel both too hot and too exposed. A flutter stirred deep in her stomach. She lowered her hands and placed them over her belly.
She had spent her whole life being too much and not enough at the same time.
Too loud, too restless, too smart for her own good.
Smarter than the rest of her family, though that never seemed to count for much.
She was a constant disappointment to her parents, an only child who never fit the mold her mother had tried to force her into.
Her mother had wanted a living doll, a perfect little girl in pastel dresses and frilly socks, someone with whom to braid hair and sip tea.
But Paula had wanted sneakers, scraped knees, and fast pitches across a softball field.
When she had been old enough to refuse the skirts and ruffles, her mother had discarded her like an unwanted toy, shifting her attention to her cousins, who did fit the mold.
Her father had never had much time for her either. When he wasn’t ignoring her, he was scolding. Yelling. Every mistake, every misstep, every breath that didn’t align with his expectations had been met with a sharp reprimand.
She’d learned not to expect approval from anyone.
Yet Jackson had looked at her disaster of a home and still— still —made it clear he wanted to be in her life.
Paula exhaled sharply and rose to pace the room. Her chest felt too tight, and her thoughts tripped over themselves in search of an answer that didn’t exist.
Why?
Why hadn’t he walked away?
Why did he still look at her like she was worth it?
The idea both terrified and thrilled her.
Her stomach tightened. This was dangerous ground. She knew how to handle indifference. She could handle rejection, disappointment. But this? Someone seeing her mess, her lack of structure, her failures—and still staying?
It made her feel hopeful, and that was worse than anything.
Hope was a trap.
She forced a breath past the lump in her throat, reaching for the detached, rational part of her mind. He’s just being nice. You’re reading too much into it.
Except she’d seen the way he’d looked at her. Like he knew. Like he understood.
Before she could spiral any further, her phone rang.
She flinched at the sound but was grateful for the interruption.
“Stone,” she answered, astonished her voice was as controlled and professional as always.
Like she hadn’t just been unraveling under the weight of something she didn’t know how to name.
Four hours later she was waiting while trying not to fidget.
She’d testified in court, had been dismissed, and Josh was still behind the heavy oak doors.
Having to wait was killing her.
James and Laura weren’t saying much, so Paula tried to make polite small talk with the others when the door opened, and Josh came running out and almost jumped on them as they struggled to stand.
“It’s all going to be okay! They’re not sending me to jail!”
His eyes were red, and his tie was askew, but this was not the time or place to ask about it.
Henry and Brian Landis followed Josh at a more moderate, dignified pace.
“What’s the verdict?” she asked.
“Guilty of drug possession and leaving the scene of an accident,” Henry answered.
“Josh will be on probation until he graduates from high school. At that time, he can petition the court to seal his record. He has to do two thousand hours of community service between now and then, mostly in the summer. He stays in your custody, and he has to continue therapy until Marc releases him. Congratulations! It’s what we had hoped for. ”
Tears streamed down Laura’s face, and her voice cracked. “That’s wonderful! I wonder where he can do his service? Are there rules about that, Henry?”
“There are some general guidelines, but basically you find a non-profit that can use help and get approval for him to work there. His probation officer will have to sign off on it or may have an idea of their own.”
“Do you think the church would let him work there?” James asked Laura.
“Probably. The food pantry always needs volunteers. We can ask Pastor Jonathan on Sunday.” Laura wiped her face and swept her gaze over the small congregation. “In the meantime, let’s all go out for dinner. Our treat. Can you all come? How about Artègo Pizza? I’ll call ahead so we have a table.”
“Thanks for the invitation. I haven’t eaten there in years, but I remember how good their food is,” Dr. Kiley said.
“What about you, Paula, Marc, Henry?” James asked.
“I’m sorry, but I have paperwork I still have to finish and then an appointment after work,” Paula said.
“This is my evening to see clients. I’ll have to beg off. I’ll see you on Monday, Josh?” Marc Ellis said.
“Yes, sir. Thanks for all your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Mr. Landis? We’d like you to come, too,” Laura asked.
“I’m sorry, but I’m supposed to be in three different places in what’s left of today. Good luck, young man. I hope we never meet in a professional capacity again.”
“Thank you, sir. I know you really helped convince the judge.”
“No, Josh. You convinced the judge,” Henry said, “and I’ll be happy to join you. I’ll meet you there. I have to check in at my office.”
After congratulating Josh and sharing hugs with James and Laura, Paula waved goodbye to the others.
She was humming the Black-Eyed Peas song I gotta feeling on her way back to the police station.
Josh was going to be all right, and she had the weekend with Jackson to look forward to.
By the time she reached the second chorus, she was belting out the lyrics.
She hoped it would be as good a night as the singer had.