6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
“ I t’s pronounced Press kit , not Press cott ,” Carson repeated, somewhat impatiently.
It was Friday, the last day of the week-long Western Legal Professionals Convention. Will, a blond attorney from Los Angeles, had spent all five days mispronouncing the name. When Garrett had suggested Carson head down to Scottsdale for the convention, hope sparked within her that her boss didn’t consider her a lost cause. And much to her delight, the convention just happened to host multiple seminars about the business side of running a law firm.
“I told you, it’s going to be impossible to remember because I had a law school instructor with the last name of Pres cott ,” Will muttered.
“Well, if you’re serious about transferring to Arizona, then you better pronounce the cities’ names correctly,” Candi, a young paralegal from Tempe, criticized from across the table.
Will and Candi had been Carson’s companions for most of the week. They’d sat at the same table for the very first seminar, and they’d struck up enough of a rapport to keep sitting together.
“Welcome,” the lecturer called, and the humming around the room fizzled out. “My name is Thea Rodríguez of Picacho Professional Development Specialists in Tucson, and today we’re going to learn how to align your professional goals with your personal goals. Aligning these goals is important because when your personal life and your job are in harmony you are more likely to succeed in both.”
The projector stationed in the middle of the room clicked on and text appeared on the front wall that said, “Personal Goals and Professional Goals.”
“The first thing I want you to do,” Thea continued, “is make a list of your current goals you have. Separate them into two columns: personal goals and professional goals. I’ll give you about three minutes.”
The scratching of pens on paper filled the room. Carson obediently drew a line down the middle of her paper. On the right side, she listed her professional ideals. She knew she wanted to be junior partner. Again, she thought about delving more into family law. The versatility of practicing on all sorts of matters could give her a fighting chance of opening her own firm—her ultimate career goal.
Before she knew it, the entire right column was filled. She stared at the other side and scowled. It was blank, just like her mind.
What life goals did she have?
She snuck a peak around the table. Will was already finished and flashed a smile at her. Candi was furiously filling out her professional column with impeccable handwriting. Noticing how the others’ entire papers were filled with hopes and dreams only made Carson’s frown deepen.
Did she have nothing to achieve outside of work? Writing down her personal goals shouldn’t be this difficult. Write something, for heaven’s sake .
Eyes dropping to her fidgeting fingers she followed the design on her sleeve up to her inner bicep. There was a subtle bump from a Band-Aid stanching blood from a fresh cut.
She’d been up in the early hours of the morning, sitting on the floor of her hotel room, slicing away at her skin. Her stomach knotted at the memory.
It was then she realized she did have a personal goal. Or at least she consciously thought of it for the first time: freedom.
The presenter called for everyone’s attention once again. “Hopefully by now you have had a chance to determine both professional and life goals. Would anyone like to share?”
There was a brief pause before a few hands rose around the room including Candi’s.
An older gentleman who Carson recognized from another class spoke. “To retire in the next three to five years. I just wasn’t sure which column to put that under.”
Thea laughed. “Seems like that belongs under both columns. Anyone else want to share?”
Candi raised her arm again.
“Yes?”
Grabbing her notepad off the table, Candi cleared her throat. “A professional goal of mine is to become a presiding judge.”
“That would be a great feat,” Thea said approvingly,” I wish you the best of luck.”
Candi scooted back into her chair, looking a bit smug from the attention everyone was giving her.
“Now, the goals that you have written down, are they achievable? If not, how can you adjust them?”
Carson peeked down at what she had written. One simple word. It sneered back up at her, provoking.
Was it achievable? Was it even possible? What did freedom look like?
As she thought about freedom, Jax in the black suit and bowtie he had worn to the auction a month ago came into her mind, which didn’t make any sense. She chewed on her inner cheek and focused even harder on the freedom she desperately wanted.
For almost two years, Carson had been trapped in the endless cycle of cut, heal, repeat. She was tired of hurting herself, tired of the lies, tired of feeling guilty. Freedom would mean a future with no more scars, no more bleeding, and no more secrets. Which meant more possibilities.
Again, Jax’s face came to mind. As a possibility? A possibility for what? A relationship? Her husband was dead, and she was daydreaming about the possibility of a relationship? Carson scolded herself. It was way too soon to think about that kind of future.
Except, what would she have to do to have a future with someone? With Jax? She would have to stop cutting herself, because that someone would eventually expect to, want to—she swallowed the giant lump that formed in her throat—see her body. And that was impossible at the moment.
Even as Carson thought it, her hand moved to lay over her arm, as if protecting the secret that lay underneath.
Could she stop? Would she stop?
She knew she needed to stop. If she was going to set a goal to be free—have a future with or without Jax—she absolutely had to quit what she was doing to herself.
Start small. Yes, she could start small. Something manageable like not cutting herself as often. Only allow it once a week. That was doable.
A relationship with Jax was not doable.
The seminar finished after they had dissected the “anatomy” of a goal. Carson stayed silent as everyone began filtering out of the room, buzzing about the conclusion of the convention. As she reached the elevator her name was being called from behind .
“You were out the door before I had a chance to say bye,” Will said, jogging up to her, bringing a faint floral scent with him. Was that his cologne? This entire week, Carson had thought it was Candi’s perfume she was smelling.
“I wanted to leave as soon as possible to beat the weekend traffic,” she said.
There was a faint drop in his face. “Oh . . .”
“Was there something you needed?”
Shifting his feet, he said, “It’s nothing.”
“What is it?” she pressed, confused about his shyness.
Will coughed into a closed fist. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go get some dinner together before I went back to California.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes, dinner. As in, a date.”
The shock slapped Carson across the face. She and Will had gotten along so well the past week. They’d laughed and eaten meals together. When Will had mentioned he was interested in moving from California to Arizona, she’d encouraged him, telling him about all Arizona had to offer, especially if he moved to the Valley of the Sun.
That’s where she wanted him to stay.
“I’m . . . already seeing someone,” Carson lied. It was the best way she could think of to turn him down without hurting his feelings.
Will drew his chin in, making the coat of hairspray on his blond hair shimmer. “I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend. You never said anything all week.”
Carson could only stand there, hoping her body language kept up her facade.
“Does he live in the Prescott area too?” Will asked .
What was with the third degree? He didn’t believe her. She needed to be more convincing. Then the auction popped into her brain again and she said the first thing that came to mind: “His name is Jax. And yes, he lives in Prescott.” Even though she had no idea where Jax lived.
“Huh.” Will seemed to finally accept her answers. “If I would have known I wouldn’t have asked you out. I’m sorry. Have a safe trip.” He stuck his hand out for a shake.
Carson tried to mask her cringe before shaking Will’s hand. “You too.”
Mercifully, the elevator dinged and the door opened, letting Carson inside to escape the awkwardness. And as the doors closed on Will’s longing face, Carson silently thanked Jax for unknowingly helping her dodge a bullet.