Chapter 6 #2
I push aside a pile of client intake forms (already stained with something suspiciously close to soya sauce—thanks, Colton) and shift my laptop so it balances on my knee.
He’s probably tired. I know I am. My fingers are still vibrating from all the typing and heaving my crappy laser printer around when it jammed (again, thanks Colton).
Staying in my office would have kept everything on track but well, we’re here…
in my apartment…which makes work feel way more intimate than it should.
I reach for my mug and realize there’s no coffee left, so I stare into the dregs and hope it will somehow refill itself. When it doesn’t, I lean back against my gray wingback chair and let my head thump against it.
“You always work this late?” Colton asks.
“Only when the case is borderline insane,” I say, then watch as he grins, wide and sharp. His teeth are distractingly nice. He could star in a toothpaste commercial if the hockey thing ever fell through.
I pull my knees up to my chest and smooth the hem of my pants. “You know, you could have just called the police,” I say, realizing too late that I’ve already brought this up. But I need him to understand. “What you did—taking her—was beyond risky.”
He shrugs. The nerve that man has. “Police never helped. Not when my ex is beautiful and said all the right words. I tried. Believe me.” His accent thickens just for a second, as if the words themselves are heavy to lift.
I find myself staring at him again. His forearms are braced on his knees, hands clasped together, the knuckles showing white.
For a second, I see not a professional athlete, but a man on the verge of losing the only thing that matters and just like that, there’s a warm feeling spreading inside of my chest. I would have never thought that he’d be such a great father.
That he can actually care for others like that.
But what I learned from it is that he’d go through hell for Livy. I know that now.
“Jenna,” he says, breaking the silence. “You ever do this for someone who doesn’t have chance?”
I arch an eyebrow. “No. I don’t take cases unless I think I can win them.” I almost add, “Especially not for former high school bullies with a god complex,” but I bite down hard on the sarcasm and let the silence finish the thought for me.
He looks back at me, and for a second, it’s as if he can see right through me. Oh, I hate that. “You don’t like to lose.”
“It’s not in my job description,” I shoot back. I don’t add that I take losing personally. That if I lose, it feels like maybe the universe was right all along: I am never enough. Instead, I say, “It’s better for everyone if I just win. You. Me. That’s the thing about law.”
“You have more fight in you than my entire line.” His eyes flicker to Livy. “Thank you for helping. Even if I’m a pain in the ass.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You’re a pain in other places, too, but I suppose it’s occupational hazard.”
His laugh is so sudden and so real that Livy stirs and looks over, blinking at us. She rubs her eyes with the back of her fists, surveys the floor, and asks in a tiny voice, “Can I have water? In my Sky cup?”
Colton jumps up and is in my kitchen before I can stop him.
The sight of a six foot five hockey player bending over to fill a child’s pink and glittery Paw Patrol sippy cup from my Brita filter is so surreal I almost take a picture.
Instead, I close my laptop and stack it on top of the printer, using the movement as an excuse to keep studying him.
He hands the water to Livy, who sips it, and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. He kisses her forehead and just when I think she wants to ask him something, she turns to me, saying, “Is Daddy in trouble?”
There’s a beat. I look at Colton, waiting to see if he’ll fumble. Well, he doesn’t. Instead, he crouches down in front of her and puts a big hand on her shoulder. “I was. Jenna is helping me.”
The little girl looks at me. All big eyes and angel features. “Thank you. I don’t want Daddy to be in trouble.”
Oh god. My fragile heart cracks open. This tiny human with those big eyes.
She adores him so much. I remember little moments from earlier.
Every time his attention shifted elsewhere, panic flickered across her face.
Sometimes she would reach for his sleeve, his hand, anything to anchor herself to him.
I remember how she perched at the edge of my office couch, eyes never leaving him, as if memorizing his features in case he vanished.
God, it hurts to watch. I want to hate him—it would be so much easier—but when he smooths her hair back, or just simply cares in such a sweet way, something in me aches with a longing I can’t quite place.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “Nothing will happen to your daddy. I will keep him safe.” The words sear into my soul, igniting a wildfire of guilt within me. I have to make this work. I can’t let that little face down. I’m determined to do whatever it takes to win this case.
Livy nods and settles back under the blanket and falls asleep before Colton can return to the floor.
He sits again, now with knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them. It’s a posture I recognize from every lost kid who ever passed through my waiting room.
I slump back on my gray chair too and we sit in silence for a minute.
I debate going back to work, but something about tonight feels different.
The old rhythm of defense and offense we played for weeks has softened.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe the fact that for the first time in forever I’m not the only person in my apartment who is scared.
Or maybe because Livy looks like she actually trusts me, and I can’t fuck that up.
“How do you manage staying so calm for her?” I ask.
It’s not a rhetorical question. I really want to know.
He thinks for a long moment and then huffs out a laugh. “I don’t. You know what is funny? When I am on ice, nothing can touch me. The world is quiet. But off ice, I don’t know what I’m doing. I just try to survive I guess.”
I nod. “I get that.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
He has no clue how close it hits home. I’m a failure besides work too.
“I have a brother, but he left when I was twelve. My dad was never around. My mom worked all the time.” I realize, with a start, that I have never told this story to a client.
Or maybe to anyone. “When I was in high school, the only thing that made sense was following rules. Because rules didn’t move away.
Rules didn’t change their minds or leave me. ”
He listens, which surprises me. Most men, especially Matthew, treat my childhood like a prelude, not a plot point. But Colton is quiet, and when I finish, he says, “That’s why you don’t lose.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I reach for another document, and my hand brushes his.
He doesn’t move away. I don’t know what to say, so I clear my throat and stand up again, dusting off the legal debris clinging to my skirt.
“I need to check on something,” I mumble, and flee to the kitchen, pretending to look for water but really just needing to breathe.
When I come back, Colton has stacked the legal briefs in a (messy) pile.
Eventually, he notices me watching and grins. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just… You don’t seem like such a bad guy anymore.”
He stands, not even trying to be quiet, and stretches, all six-and-a-half feet of him. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says. “Ruins my image.”
I snort, but it comes out more like a giggle, and I hate myself for it. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He glances at the clock. “Okay, I need to get her home. Ex probably has people watching my place and will use this against us.” He lifts Livy as if she weighs nothing, cradling her against his chest.
“Yeah, but you have to promise me that you go to your actual home, not Jay’s, not Riley’s or whatever. Your legal home.”
“I will. What are the next steps again?”
This man. A brain like a sieve.
“We’re waiting for the judge’s decision and hoping to get a court order quickly. Other than that, we just pray to every god in the universe that your ex doesn’t decide to burn our entire case to the ground and salt the earth where she once stood.”
He furrows his brows. “What the hell does salting the earth even mean?”
I roll my eyes. So, he’s not into witchcraft then.
Not that I am either, but I do love a good binge-watch.
If we ever had to list our skills on a résumé, I’d totally put ‘supernatural expert’ right up there.
“Never mind. Just hope she leaves us alone, which she won’t.
In the meantime, you’re waiting for my wonderful letters and do nothing but play dolls at home with Livy. ”
The bastard smirks, and I almost throw out another retort when the door swings open, and suddenly Matthew is standing right in front of us.