4. Chapter 4
Chapter four
I t took Carson a moment to realize the vibration that had awoken her wasn’t coming from the throbbing pain in her forehead but from her phone.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she reached across her bed to answer the incoming call.
“Are you alive?” Raegan screeched.
Carson pulled the phone away from her ear to deflect Raegan’s shriek on the other end, which only intensified her headache.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m alive,” Carson promised.
“You didn’t answer my calls or texts last night. You didn’t call me to let me know you were home safe.” There was a small break in Raegan’s voice. “I’ve been worried sick about you. Hunter finally had to call Jax just so I wouldn’t drive to your house to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep!”
Carson let her friend scold her. She deserved it. After Jax had dropped her off at home, Carson had immediately plonked into bed without changing her clothes, or messaging Raegan that she was home, or even plugging her phone in to charge. She peeked at the battery symbol. It was dangerously low. Quickly, she jammed the charger into the port and leaned back into her pile of down pillows, wiggling until she was comfortable again. But the pain in her skull made the pillows virtually useless .
“I’m sorry. There was so much going on, I completely spaced texting you,” she tried to explain.
Raegan sighed. “I’m just happy you’re okay. How’s your head? Jax said you had to get stitches?”
“Five.”
“I can’t believe it was Jax who hit you with the door.”
“I was going to ask about him. Does he work with Hunter or something?”
“Not anymore,” Raegan explained. “They were at Station 74 for a while before Jax transferred to Station 71. I’m surprised you haven’t met him already. He and Hunter are really good friends.”
“Maybe I have and just don’t remember him,” Carson said, thinking about her brief conversation with Jax while waiting for the urgent care physician. Raegan and Hunter regularly hosted parties at their house with hordes of people. Surely Jax was amongst them. But with so many people, it was impossible to remember everyone.
“Jax is, like, the nicest person you’ll ever meet,” Raegan said.
Images of Jax cradling Carson in his arms flooded her mind—the concern on his face, the way he’d stroked her clammy fingers and held her hand to keep her from dropping over the edge of panic. “Yeah, he seems very kind.”
“He is kind.” Then Raegan changed the subject. “Oh! Have you talked to your boss about junior partner?”
Carson sat up and pushed her covers off, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “I did. He said he’ll talk to me sometime today.”
“Let me know what he says. I can’t think of why he wouldn’t promote you. You’re an amazing lawyer, and he has to be smart enough to see your potential. ”
Pride filled Carson’s chest. She had dedicated a lot of her time to her career, but she didn’t want to be an associate attorney forever. Eventually she dreamed of opening her own firm, but she didn’t have experience running one. Becoming a junior partner would provide her opportunity to learn the ropes and, hopefully, open her own business one day.
“I’ll let you know what he says. Speaking of work, if I don’t start getting ready now, I’ll be late.”
“Okay. Bye!”
Hanging up, Carson slipped out of bed, went into the bathroom, and flicked on the light to inspect her injury in the mirror. She was met by a gruesome sight. The skin around the stitching had swelled up, and dried blood clung to her matted hair. Was this what she had looked like last night? How embarrassing. Would it leave a scar?
Just another in the collection .
Twisting the knob three-quarters of the way to the left, she started the shower so it could rise to her preferred heat level. It wasn’t as scalding hot as Luke had liked it, though. Whenever he went to bathe, she would joke, “Have fun in the inferno flames of hell.”
The pain continued to pound in her skull, so Carson rifled through her medicine cabinet, looking for the bottle of anti-inflammatories. But as she eyed the little red tablets in her palm, a memory fought to expose itself. Before the image could fully develop, she quashed it back into the recesses of her mind and dumped the entire bottle in the toilet.
As she stepped into the shower, she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. It was almost ritualistic of her to examine her butchered body before she showered. So many lines. But, for the first time, she took concern at her gaunt form, identifying her bones prominently sticking out, especially her rib cage and hips. Had she always been this skinny?
Her mother had always thought she was pudgy. She would call Carson her “little chunky monkey.”
Carson continued to stare, her body reminding her of a sunken skeleton. She looked ghastly. She looked dead.
She huffed. If only that were true. With a shrug of resignation, Carson stepped into the steaming water.
As Carson waited for her office computer to wake, she flipped through the stack of papers in her wire-tray inbox. How had it grown in size over the weekend? Lips pressed into a thin line, she tossed the sheets back into the tray and diverted her attention to her monitor. The login screen had a different image every time the computer powered on. Today it displayed a disheveled tabby cat clawing at a thick rope, its back paws swinging in the air. At the bottom it read, “Hang in there!”
“Ha,” Carson scoffed.
“What’s so funny?” Garrett Hoover, the senior attorney and her boss, was standing in the doorway. A grin was already glowing on his face, his white teeth a stark difference against his deep-brown skin.
“Oh, nothing.” Carson quickly typed in her password and hit Enter.
Stepping into her office, Garrett relaxed in one of the cushioned seats in front of her desk. His tall, lean frame made it look like a children’s chair.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” he said. “Can you take over a consultation for me? I need to meet with the hospital district this morning.”
“Of course,” she said, eager to show him that she was a team player at every chance she got. “What time?”
He glanced down at his watch. “At nine. It’s for modification of spousal support.”
Carson had never dealt with a spousal support case before, or any family law matter, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She was a team player and versatile.
“I can do that,” Carson confirmed, scribbling the time on her notepad.
“Thanks. I also wanted to talk to you about the promotion we discussed last week.”
Carson immediately held her breath. All her hard work was going to finally pay off.
“I’d like to see you succeed in this career. I really would, but”—Carson’s heart hit the floor with a thud—“you’re not quite there. You’re passionate, and a damn good lawyer.” Garrett eyed the stacks of case files on her desk before he continued. “I think becoming a partner may be too much for your plate right now. And that’s why I’m not going to grant the promotion today.”
For a second, Carson had the urge to argue. Working her ass off over the past six years at this firm had to count for something, right? Then she took a second to ponder Garrett’s words. Was it too much for her plate right now? Her scar-covered body flashed into her mind.
Despite the tension lingering in her neck, Carson nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
Garrett tilted his head to one side, maybe noticing the slight twitch in her eye. “I’m not saying no. Becoming a partner is loads more responsibility. As your boss, and your friend, I’m advising you to focus on getting control of the cases you already have. In a couple of months, if I see improvement, we can talk. ”
Even as Garrett left for his office, his words continued to echo in her mind. Focus on getting control of the cases you already have . How was she supposed to be junior partner, let alone run a successful private practice, if her own boss thought she didn’t have control of her workload?
Before Carson could wallow any more deeply, she was interrupted.
“Good morning, Car—what happened to your head?” Dan, another of the firm’s attorneys, was standing in her doorway. His buggy, sunken eyes were zeroed in on her forehead. When Carson had first met Dan, his appearance reminded her of Gollum from The Lord of the Rings trilogy Luke had made her watch years ago.
“I just hit my head. That’s all,” she said. Apparently, the nude-colored Band-Aid she applied that morning wasn’t as subtle as she hoped.
“What happened to Carson’s head?” a voice beyond Dan asked. Rookie paralegal Noah slunk into the doorway, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses over the bridge of his nose. He was slouched over to keep from clipping his yellow highlights on the doorframe as he slipped into the room.
“Carson hit her head,” Dan said.
Noah glanced at Dan, then back at Carson. “How’d you hit your head? Did it split open?”
Carson sighed. “I got hit with a door. It’s only a small cut.” It was the only one of her cuts that didn’t feel good.
“Ouch,” Dan said, at the time Noah said, “Nice.”
“I’m taking over Garrett’s consultation at nine,” Carson told Noah, deviating from the subject. Despite Noah’s cheeky humor, she could always rely on him to get stuff done. He was the best paralegal she had ever worked with.
“Got it.” Noah shot finger guns her way and walked back toward the front reception desk with Dan following behind.
After skimming through only half of the dozens of emails waiting in her Outlook, Carson decided to light the lavender-and-vanilla candle Raegan had gotten her for Mother’s Day. Maybe its calming properties would make her headache go away.
Just as she was sniffing the melting wax, Noah rapped on the door. “Consult is ready for you.”
As Carson approached the conference room, she summoned what little she learned about family law in law school. Just as she pushed open the partially shut door, she halted with one foot inside the room. Jax was sitting at the large, granite-topped table. The morning sun bathed his silhouette from the window behind him. Instead of a baseball cap and the Super Soakers uniform, he looked more professional in a navy-blue shirt with a Maltese cross on the left side of his chest. His inky-black hair spilled across his forehead. A crisp manila folder was laid out in front of him next to the complementary water bottle.
“Jax?”
“Carson?” His tone echoed her surprise as he stood up. When the shock on his face turned into delight, Carson was a bit perplexed as to why her heart stuttered.
“I see you survived the night,” he continued. “How’s the brain?”
“Not dead,” Carson quipped, gaining her composure and shutting the door behind her before choosing the chair opposite him. He waited until she was seated before he sat back down.
“You’re Mr. Hoover? ”
She snorted. “Mr. Hoover had a last-minute emergency. He asked that I take over this consultation. I didn’t know it was you when I agreed.”
“Are you still able to do it?”
“Yes. Although there may be a conflict of interest meeting with the person who assaulted me.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Jax leaned back in his chair. “Does that mean you’re going to press charges?”
She spun her pen on the stone tabletop. “Maybe . . . depends on how much you’re willing to bribe me.”
Jax smirked.
“If you would like to reschedule with Mr. Hoover you are welcome to. I would not be offended if you’re uncomfortable with talking about personal matters with me,” Carson said.
“I don’t mind. Are you uncomfortable?”
“Nope.” A lie, perhaps, based on her heart rate. “It’s my job.”
“Good.” He surveyed her, his eyes trailing her up and down. “So, you’re a lawyer, huh?”
“Yep.” Carson popped the p at the end.
“Do you like it?”
“I do. There’s enough drama that I don’t have to pay for Netflix anymore.”
“Then you’ll appreciate my ex-wife’s drama,” Jax grumbled.
Carson’s eyes flitted to his left hand. There was no ring or indentation. Not even a tan-line. Maybe not a recent divorce, or maybe he’d never worn a wedding ring.
She crossed her legs. “Is that what brings you in? Mr. Hoover mentioned spousal support.”
“I’ve been paying for a year, since the divorce. But I recently found out that she moved in with a guy and got a job. My previous attorney told me if either of those two things happen, I could stop paying.”
Carson pinched her pen between her fingers and tapped it on her palm, recalling her law school education. “In simple terms, yes. There must be a substantial change in circumstances in order to amend your support payments. Do you mind me asking why you’re not using the attorney who represented you in your divorce?”
“He retired a few years ago.”
“Alright. Do you have anything that shows she’s got a new job and is living with someone?”
Jax opened the folder that was in front of him, pulled out a piece of paper, and slid it across to her. It was a screenshot of a webpage for a local hair salon, Modern Locks, and it displayed images and short bios of their hairstylists.
“Kristen at the top is my ex-wife.” He pointed her out.
The name Kristen Miller was written in creamy calligraphic letters. Underneath she was described as Modern Locks’ newest stylist. A picture next to the name showed a poised woman with long, white-blond hair and an oblong facial structure, showing off two rows of perfectly white teeth.
“Don’t let her looks fool you.”
Carson glanced up at Jax, whose demeanor had changed. A scowl had taken over his face, and his chin was raised a bit higher than she had remembered it.
“Let’s just say she was”—his fist clenched then relaxed—“unfaithful for our entire relationship.”
Carson detected Jax’s anger in the stiffness of his shoulders, the twitching of his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It took me a long time to figure out that it wasn’t my fault either. I’m just the naive dumbass that didn’t recognize what was happening.”
She grimaced, not liking the idea of him feeling guilty about Kristen’s transgressions. “Cheating isn’t typically obvious.”
A corner of Jax’s lips turned up. “So I’ve been told. At first I didn’t . . . handle it very well, but I eventually got my life back to normal.”
Normal again. If only Carson could have that luxury.
“Is this Kristen’s first job since your divorce?” she continued. Even though she was curious to know more, she had a job to do. “Has she been unemployed this entire time?”
“Yes. She uses the guys she is with, and me, to pay for everything.”
“I see. And she moved in with someone?”
“I know she’s been seeing this guy for a while now.” Jax rifled through the stack of papers before him until he found what he was looking for. “Her boyfriend posted on Instagram about a housewarming party last week.”
He held out the paper to Carson. It was a picture of Kristen with her arms around a stocky man in a cowboy hat and Pit Vipers. Surrounded by balloons, they stood in front of a ranch house.
“We’ll want to have this,” Carson said. “Is this your only copy?”
“No. You can keep both of the pictures.”
“Perfect.” Carson jotted a few notes down on her notepad for Garrett. “Did you bring in your divorce paperwork? Specifically, the current decree and order that the judge signed?”
Jax handed her a few stapled papers, which she scanned for anything that could complicate the process of amending his spousal maintenance, taking note of Judge Callaghan assigned to his case.
“Good news is initially it looks like we can reduce your payments, if not end them altogether,” Carson said. “No guarantees, though. If you would like to hire us, our office can definitely represent you. Noah at the front desk can prepare the hiring agreement.”
“Will you be my attorney?” Jax asked.
He seemed troubled that she would be. Was he uncomfortable having a friend-of-a-friend represent him?
“No, I don’t handle divorce cases in the office,” Carson said, “Mr. Hoover will represent you.” Maybe she should look into taking on some family law matters. It would give her a wider berth of legal knowledge for when she opens her own firm.
“Good. So no conflict of interest.”
Her eyebrows scrunched, but instead of investigating his statement further, she let it go. “No, there is no conflict of interest. Do you have any other questions?”
“No, Mr. Hoover,” he deadpanned, “I believe you’ve answered them all.”
Carson began gathering her things while Jax mimicked her, creasing his folder and palming the bottle of water. She guided him from the conference room to the reception area, where Noah’s fingers were flying across a computer keyboard.
“Mr. Miller will need a fee agreement,” Carson told him before she turned to Jax. “It was good seeing you again.”
“Good seeing you too. I’m happy my stupidity didn’t kill you yesterday,” Jax said, his blue eyes flashing up to her forehead.
“Wait,” Noah said, looking from Carson to Jax with a confused expression. “Ms. West said she hit her head on a door.”
Carson stifled a groan. “I did.”
“Did she tell you that I was the one who hit her with the door?” Jax asked.
Noah’s eyebrows shot up. “No, she did not.”
“It was an accident,” Carson said.
“I slammed a door open, and she was on the other side,” Jax explained. “Nearly killed her.”
“Did not,” Carson argued, galled.
“Your head was bashed open, and you were on the ground bleeding all over,” he countered.
“I was not bleeding all over.”
“Wanna bet?”
She opened her mouth to dispute but gave up. Noah’s eyes were bouncing between her and Jax.
“Anyway . . .” Carson grabbed a business card off the elevated counter space in front of Noah’s desk and gave it to Jax. “Here is Mr. Hoover’s card. At the bottom is our main office line and his email.”
Jax took the card from her, scrutinizing the front and back of the small rectangle, before giving Noah side-eye. “Do you have one? You know, just in case I have any other questions.”
“Mr. Hoover and Noah are able to ans—”
Noah shot up and reached for another card on the counter, thrusting it into Jax’s hand, looking pointedly at her. “Yes, Ms. West does have a card. It’s right here with her cell phone number.”
“Thank you.” Jax tucked her card into his back pocket. “I hope to see you again . . . soon.”
Carson’s mouth was still open from being cut off mid-sentence. “I’m sure we’ll see each other in passing.”
There was a slight fall in his shoulders. “Right. Thank you again.” He turned to walk out the glass front door. Carson eyed his robust frame while Noah whistled behind her .
“Are you going to jump on that?” he asked when the door had shut.
Face flushing, Carson whirled. “Noah!”
“What?” he said innocently. “He was totally digging you, and you are totally digging him.”
Her nostrils flared. “He does not dig me. I do not dig him. There is no digging .”
“So, you’re telling me that you haven’t checked out that hot piece of ass?”
“No,” she lied.
One of his eyebrows raised. “Mm-hmm, and I don’t wear glasses.”
She gave him a trenchant glare, but he continued anyway. “The guy totally has the hots for you. He literally asked for your phone number.”
“That’s because he’s a client.”
“No, that’s because he wants to talk casually .”
Just then the office phone rang, interrupting their conversation.
“He likes you and you know it.” Noah spilled out the words and answered the phone before she could contend. “Hoover & Associates, this is Noah.”
Once again in her office, which now smelled like a lavender farm, Carson skimmed through her emails, forgetting she had already read most of them. Her conversation with Noah continued to resound in her ears only causing her to become more flustered with him. She didn’t— shouldn’t —like Jax. At least, not in that way. But the guilt was like a rock settling in her stomach. What would her dead husband think about her liking another man?
She shook her head, trying to clear it out, and pulled the lit candle closer. She had too many unresolved cases to be thinking about some hunky fireman.