Chapter 14
chapter fourteen
easton
“Where are you running off to?”
I looked over my shoulder and saw Cindy coming after me as I tried to make my escape out of the courthouse. Things between us had been a little awkward since the meeting with Day, but I’d been too busy to give too much thought to it.
It was Friday and the end of the first week of the trial for the college student sexual assault case we’d been working on for months.
It was almost 7:30 p.m. and we’d been debriefing for the three hours since the judge rested for the weekend.
I was ready to call it a day. As always, in cases like this, it had been emotionally draining and combined with the stress of the fuckery happening with the sheriff’s department, I needed a break.
“I’m not running,” I answered Cindy as we made our way down the steps leading out of the courthouse.
Cindy had been coming to see the trial, which meant she probably wanted to talk about it with me.
Our side was done with witnesses and the defense was bringing in their first one on Monday.
That meant we’d work all weekend trying to figure out what they would try to bamboozle us with.
I wanted a night off before the two straight days of work I was sure were ahead of me.
Especially because I was supposed to see Patrice tonight.
We were actually going out for dinner, which was different.
We’d been doing this thing where he’d shown up around dinner time, either with some takeout in hand or with a bottle of wine.
It was a thinly veiled booty call, but I wasn’t in a place to deny him.
I’d gladly have Patrice Denis in my bed as long as he wanted to be there.
Although that wasn’t fair; it was a lot more than fucking.
We’d been getting to know each other; we’d been talking and laughing.
So much laughing. My biggest problem at the moment was the fact that the more I got to know Patrice Denis, the more I wanted him, all of him.
Even after all the time we’d spent together, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get that.
“Oohhhh, this is about the stunner,” Cindy said, her distant expression changing for the usual impish one she sported whenever we talked about my dating life. A knot I didn’t even know I had in my stomach loosened a bit and I smiled back.
“His name is Patrice Denis, and yes, we’re having dinner together. I’m meeting him at that brewery that has the good pumpkin beer.”
Cindy balked at that. “Ugh, I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” she said, shuddering.
I looked around at the trees, which were half bare already. Early October had a bite here in Ithaca. “I embrace the fall weather and all it has to offer.”
“Ummhmm.” Cindy did not look convinced. “So things are going well then?”
It felt good to just chat normally with Cindy after the tension of the last few weeks. It was such a relief that I went along with the line of questioning, instead of my usual deflections when she got too nosy about my love life.
“So far things are going cautiously well.”
That was an understatement. I knew, and Cindy knew, but that was all I was willing to say at the moment.
“Good. I’m cautiously happy for you then.” She winked, and for the first time since I could remember, she left me off the hook without a full interrogation.
“Thank you.” I could tell she wanted to hear more, but she didn’t push. She did reach out for my arm then, wanting to keep me there a bit longer, and I knew she’d followed me for a reason. “So have you given more thought to the DA’s race?”
I looked around the deserted sidewalk and focused back on her. “Cin, is this really the best time to talk about this?”
She gave me that stubborn look I’d seen her use in court hundreds of times. It said, “I’m here to do a job, you’re not getting me off track.”
“This is the perfect time, since you hedged when I tried to talk to you about it after the meeting with Day.” Her expression got a little grim when she mentioned the meeting. It had not been anyone’s finest moment. For all my mouthing off, we walked out of there with very little to show for it.
Cindy’s insistent tone jerked me back to the conversation.
“The deadline for submitting the papers to run is in a few weeks. You’d be a good DA.
People trust you and respect you, Easton.
” There was a lot that was feeling fraught with Cindy these days, but I knew she believed what she was telling me.
“I don’t know, Cin,” I said, hesitantly.
My parents talked about my job like it was a strange hobby they didn’t get, but I loved it, and I was good at it.
If I was honest with myself, I wanted the DA position, not just to show my parents that this was not some kind of whim, but because I thought I could make a difference.
I complained about the paperwork and the administrative piece, but I wondered if I could be a good leader if I just had more leeway.
It had become abundantly clear, dealing with these stops that when it came to speaking for the DA’s office, my hands were tied.
I looked over at Cindy who was still waiting for my answer. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
She nodded, seemingly satisfied for now, “I’ll hold you to that.” She then moved in to give me a peck on the cheek and shooed me away.
“Okay, go see your stunner, but I’ll be back on Monday to make sure you put the paperwork in.”
“Okay,” I said, walking off with a nod, and setting aside my complicated feelings about Cindy and the DA position for now.
As I walked the few blocks to the brewery, I considered the past week with Patrice. No matter how much I got from him, it felt like only a taste, when I wanted mouthfuls.
A buzz in my pocket broke up my musings. I grabbed the phone, expecting to see a message from Amber, my co-counsel on the trial, but instead I saw it was from Patrice. I had to press a hand to my chest, at the throb there from just seeing his name on the screen.
I see you, Counselor. How are you not wearing a coat?!!!!
I laughed at his alarmed message and looked up. I spotted him leaning against the brick wall next to the brewery.
God, he was beautiful.
When I lifted my hand in greeting, he did the same, and that unguarded smile I sometimes got glimpses of made an appearance.
His face was open, obviously glad to see me, and I wanted to do something ridiculous like wolf-whistle.
The weight of the week, the pressure of knowing that getting justice for that young woman rested on my shoulders…
all of that lightened a bit now that I’d seen him.
I stood at the corner, waiting for the light to change, focused on him.
There was so much to take in. His locs were coiled on top of his head today, giving me a clear view of his face.
He was wearing dark jeans and black Chelsea boots, his gloved hands in his navy pea coat, a bright yellow scarf wrapped around his neck.
That big body at rest, waiting for me. It was all I could do not to run to him.
When the light changed, I started walking, and he pushed off the wall to meet me. My heart pounded as I got close, and I took a moment to revel in the fact that I had butterflies in my stomach. I got to him and stopped just a couple of feet short of where he stood. “Hi.”
“How are you not freezing?” he asked, his lips turned up in a tiny smile. I lifted a shoulder and looked down at myself.
“I guess I’m not that cold,” I said distractedly, too focused on how close we were and that I wasn’t kissing him.
I wasn’t sure how to greet him. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t know how that would be received. I could see in his face that he was debating something, too.
After a moment, his expression grew determined, then he moved closer and pressed his lips to mine, putting the question to rest. I immediately put my hand behind his head to bring him closer to me.
I pressed my palm to the back of his neck, my eyes closed as I kissed him, feeling the warm skin of his neck, face, and shoulders.
Our breaths mingled and I marveled at what was happening—I was kissing Patrice on a street corner and he was kissing me back, his arms tight around me.
I should’ve been terrified, because this feeling, this would hurt whenever it went away.
Instead, I licked into his mouth, just once, to taste.
When we pulled back, I had my eyes closed, still reveling in the feeling, and when I finally opened them, the way Patrice was looking at me almost made me swoon.
He held my hand as he angled his head toward the bar door. “Shall we?”
The urge to say, “I’d go anywhere with you by the hand” was on the tip on my tongue.
But I kept it short, cautious not to break the spell by, or as Tyren would say, “doing the most.”
“Let’s go.”
The usual Friday crowd of townspeople and students were scattered all over the popular brewery when we walked in. We spotted two stools at the end of the bar and headed over. As we dodged bodies on our way to the empty seats, Patrice leaned over and spoke into my ear.
“How did today end? I saw on my news feed that you guys finished with your witnesses.”
I settled in my seat and looked around to see who was within earshot.
A habit of being a small town prosecutor.
“It’s going well, there is a lot of evidence,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
“The issue will be whether a jury will actually choose to believe that any of what happened was consensual.” I grimaced, thinking about the pile of photographs from the victim’s medical exam after the assault.
“It’s not likely.” I lifted a shoulder. “But you never know.”
He dipped his head and I could tell he was thinking hard about something. Before he answered, the bartender came to take our drink orders and distracted us for a moment. When he walked away, Patrice picked up the conversation again, his face serious. “That is a huge amount of pressure on you.”