Chapter 20 The Weight of Going Back
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE WEIGHT OF GOING BACK
Colin crouched low beneath the upper cabinet, holding it steady while Graham anchored the final screws. The drill’s whine echoed off bare Sheetrock, then cut to silence.
Graham stepped back, eyes sharp. “That one’s not level.”
“I know.” Colin reached for the rubber mallet, testing the frame with his fingers. “Frame’s bowed on the right side. I’ll shave it down.”
He worked in silence, the scent of pine dust thick in the air.
He ran his fingers along the edge of the cabinet, feeling the imperfection more than seeing it.
He picked up the block sander and began to work—steady, rhythmic strokes, the sound harsh at first, then smoothing into something almost meditative.
His father’s voice came back to him unbidden: Don’t trust your eyes, Col. Trust your hands. He did.
“Did cabinet work before?” Graham asked, watching him.
“My dad taught me woodworking. Summer weekends in his shop, mostly. He called it ‘therapy with splinters.’”
Graham chuckled. “Smart man.”
“Yeah.” Colin hesitated, eyes still on the grain. “He said there’s no faking level. If something’s crooked, you either fix it or live with the tilt.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just weighted. Graham stepped back and gave the cabinet a nudge. “You’re good at this.”
Colin grunted. “Wood doesn’t lie to you.”
Graham let it sit. “Courtroom does?”
Colin didn’t answer. Just sanded a little harder.
Graham nodded… knowing an answer when he heard one.
Later that day, Colin wiped the dust from the frame, slid the cabinet door into place, and tested the swing.
Smooth. Silent. Perfect. But instead of satisfaction, all he felt was…
numb. Behind him, his phone buzzed on the counter.
A message from Norm: “Esther wants to know when you’re coming in.
” He locked the screen without opening it and reached for his sander.
A half hour later, Joshua appeared in the doorway, arms folded loosely across his chest. “You know you’ve sanded that same corner about eight times now?”
Colin glanced over, not quite smiling. “Feels like the only thing I can smooth out these days.”
Joshua crossed the room and leaned against the kitchen counter, close but not crowding. “Norm texted me. Esther’s asking when you’re gonna check in.” He nudged Colin’s shoulder almost playfully. “Clearly, their texts to you aren’t getting through.” He arched his brows. “Phone on the fritz?”
Colin exhaled through his nose. “Honey…”
“You don’t have to go in today.” He leaned closer. “Or even tomorrow.”
Colin set the sander down, his hands braced on the edge of the cabinet. “I’m not sure what I’ll find when I do go in. I don’t know who I am in that building anymore.”
Joshua reached out and rested his fingers on Colin’s wrist. “Then maybe don’t go looking for the old fire.
Maybe look for the part of you that still wants to fight, even if it’s a quieter battle.
” He leaned forward and kissed Colin’s hair.
“It doesn’t have to be Gunfight at the OK Corral to matter.
Sometimes, the small battles matter too. ”
Colin met his gaze then—tired, grateful. “Still might sand this thing down to sawdust.”
Joshua’s smile was gentle. “That’s fine.
I like watching you work.” He lifted Colin’s chin.
“But, my darling? They’re good people, and they love you.
I’m not trying to guilt you. I’m trying to tell you they’ll hear your ‘no’, they’ll respect it, and they’ll still love you.
” He stroked Colin’s cheek. “Give them a chance.”
Colin met his eyes in silence for a long time. Then he nodded. “I’ll go tomorrow.” His eyes snapped back to meet Joshua’s. “But, babe? I’m still not sure what’ll happen.”
Joshua’s head tilted back a bit. “Colin, I don’t give a good goddamn what happens!
If the CAO no longer works for you… fine by me.
If you find your peace sanding cupboards for a living…
fine by me. If you want to sing Irish folk songs at McCafferty’s for a living, fine by me!
” He caressed Colin’s cheek, then kissed him, then kissed him again.
“I want one thing and one thing only: that you are happy and at peace. Whatever path leads to that, fine by…” He soundlessly shrugged.
Colin couldn’t help but laugh. “By you, pretty boy?”
“Now you’re getting it, hot stuff.” He flipped Colin’s nose and wandered back to the living room.
Colin stood in the doorway, keys in hand, coat half-buttoned. The light through the front windows was pale, silvering the floorboards. He hadn’t worn this coat since the explosion. Joshua had cleaned it, but the faintest whiff of smoke still clung to the lining. He didn’t move. Not yet.
Behind him, Joshua came up quietly, coffee in one hand, the other resting lightly on Colin’s back. “You good?” he asked.
Colin’s fingers tightened around the keys. “I don’t know.”
Joshua didn’t answer. Just handed him the coffee—then leaned in, brushing a kiss just behind his ear. His hand came to rest on Colin’s shoulder, gentle, possessive.
“I love that office,” Colin said, his voice low. “I love the people in it. I love what it stands for. But I keep wondering if it still wants me. Or if it deserves someone stronger.”
“Someone stronger?” Joshua repeated, his voice filled with quiet disbelief. “They already have someone strong. Stronger than he’s ever been.”
He let the silence stretch before continuing, voice soft but certain, his hand tight on Colin’s shoulder.
“You walked through fire, Colin. And somehow you came back with your heart still open—still strong. Your strength doesn’t come from muscle or grit.
It comes from how much you care about doing the honorable thing.
That’s the kind of strength that turns survival into victory.
Justice doesn’t need perfection, Colin. It needs someone who’s determined to do what’s right.
That’s why they need you. Because that’s who you are. It’s always been who you are.”
Colin said nothing for a long moment. Then he reached for the doorknob, hand steady now.
“I won’t stay if it feels wrong,” he said.
“And you shouldn’t.”
“I won’t pretend I’m OK if I’m not.”
“And again… you shouldn’t.”
He turned. Met Joshua’s eyes.
“But I’m going.”
Joshua smiled, soft and proud. “And I’ll be here when you get back.”
The lobby looked the same. Same water-stained ceiling tile in the corner. Same worn bench near the elevator, the cushion a little more lopsided than before. Same smell of old coffee and disinfectant.
He stepped through the glass doors and hesitated just inside.
No one had seen him yet. He adjusted his collar—still smelling faintly of sawdust and lavender detergent—and moved toward the security desk.
The guard on duty, Marcy, looked up, her eyes going wide.
“Campbell!” she gasped. Then, louder: “You’re back! ”
He gave a small smile. “Hey, Marce.”
Before she could speak again, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Norm rounded the corner, tie askew, face flushed as if he’d sprinted. He didn’t stop until he was in front of Colin—then he pulled him into a hug. A real one. Bone-deep. Held a second too long.
Colin smiled and returned the embrace, then patted his back and leaned away. “If you’re waiting for a kiss…”
“Shut up, asshole.” Norm stepped back, eyes sharp but shiny. “You’re late. Esther’s been pacing since dawn.”
“I told her I’d come.”
“You told me you’d come. That’s different.”
Colin huffed a breath that was almost a laugh.
“Come on.” Norm gestured down the hallway. “She’s in your office. Probably dusting, though I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Colin stopped walking. “My office? It’s still…”
Norm turned. “Of course! We didn’t box it up. Figured if you came back, you’d need it. And if you didn’t… well…” He shrugged. “We’d deal.”
Esther stood near the window, arms crossed. She didn’t look up right away. “I heard the door,” she said. “I was trying to decide if I should yell or cry.”
“Both would be fair.”
She turned. Her eyes brimmed but didn’t spill. “You look tired.”
“Feel it.”
“I can’t pretend this place hasn’t missed you. But I won’t let it eat you alive either.”
Colin nodded. “I’m not here to save the world, Esther. I’m here to see if—if I still belong.”
She nodded. “Well, I could tell you that you do, and it would be the truth. But let’s try this instead.” She moved behind his desk and pulled out his chair. “Take a seat, Counselor.”
Colin drew in a shaky breath, then moved to his chair and sat down.
“Still fit?” Esther asked, taking a seat in the chair facing him. Norm chuckled and took the seat next to her.
“Well,” he said. “This feels… almost normal.”
All three of them chuckled, and then Esther leaned forward. “OK. I can tell you this: the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office still wants you, Colin Campbell-Abrams. You’re a fine attorney and a good man. That’s a rare combination. What remains to be seen is… do you still want us?”
“God, boss lady, I do!” Colin insisted. “What I don’t know is how much I can handle anymore.”
“All right. Start slow. No big cases. No heavy trauma. Take a few misdemeanors off Adi’s plate––just play lawyer for a while.” She pursed her lips and gave him a searching look. “How about three days a week to start? Easy hours.”
“I want to check with Josh, but,” he grinned, “deal.”
Colin stepped out of his office into the main bullpen, where the low murmur of phones, clicking keyboards, and hushed legal debates created a soft background hum.
The same crowded bulletin board sagged with legal notices, birthday cards, and someone’s laminated “Emergency Snack List.” He caught sight of the faint marker scrawl still on the edge of the cork: “Colin owes us donuts—Team Jason.”