Chapter 9
As Sandra sat in her cluttered office, the afternoon light no longer showed dust motes but painted weak shadows across her desk.
Sandra wondered if she'd been naive to think she and Terry were ready to move further in their relationship. They hadn’t had an in-depth discussion about his ex-wife yet, and she’d never met his kids.
Maybe we just tried to push things too fast.
Her phone buzzed against the desk, displaying a text from Cedric McCalister's office. The commonwealth attorney was ready to see her about a case.
The commonwealth attorney's office occupied the top floor of the courthouse, a world away from Legal Aid's meager quarters.
Sandra knocked on the heavy oak door and entered to find Cedric behind his imposing desk, his silver hair perfectly styled despite the late hour.
DTF Detectives Jeremy Pickett and Pete Bolton sat in the leather chairs facing him, their expressions neutral but alert.
"Sandra, good of you to come on such short notice." Cedric's voice carried the authority of three decades in prosecution, though his tone remained cordial. "I believe you know Detectives Pickett and Bolton."
She nodded, settling into the remaining chair with the Reeves file placed on her lap.
"The Reeves boy," Cedric continued, his weathered hands steepled before him. "You had called me, saying you knew his mother.”
Sandra nodded. “Yes, she works part-time as a cleaner for our offices, and I’ve had the opportunity to get to know her, and on occasion, Robert, as well.”
Cedric looked down at the file in front of him. “Sixteen years old, found in a vehicle containing enough narcotics to suggest distribution."
Sandra straightened, feeling the familiar surge of protectiveness that came with defending her clients.
"Mr. McCalister, with respect, from what his mother has told me, Robert Reeves was a passenger in that vehicle.
He had no knowledge of the drugs, no involvement in their distribution, and no criminal history whatsoever. "
Pete leaned forward, his frustration evident. "Clean record. Wrong place, wrong time. Yeah, he got into the car with the wrong person, but he’s cooperating. Giving us real information on Lashawn Tate, who is a Blood and is running through the Shore."
Sandra felt hope, realizing that Terry’s officers had the same dedication to finding the truth and not just jumping on the first suspect.
"The initial report had him in the vehicle at the scene of a crash," Cedric countered, his tone measured but firm. "Narcotics in the vehicle. That's more than 'wrong place, wrong time.'"
Sandra felt her pulse quicken, hoping the detectives would continue to advocate for the teenager whose mother she had gotten to know over the past year.
"He wasn't driving,” Pete said. “He wasn't carrying. He wasn't high. The blood work came back clean. We’ve had time to dig, and there’s no evidence he knew what was in that damn car. He’s just a kid, Cedric. And we know he’s not the kind you make an example of."
"Legally, I could argue he was in possession by proximity," Cedric replied, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.
“Legally, you could argue a lot of shit that doesn’t make sense,” Pete retorted.
"Constructive possession requires knowledge and intent," Sandra shot back. "Two things the commonwealth cannot prove because they don't exist. This boy got a ride home from school with someone he thought was a friend. He had no idea what was in the trunk of that car."
That got her looks of approval from both Jeremy and Pete. She leaned forward, her brown eyes meeting Cedric's steady gaze. "This isn't someone who belongs in the juvenile justice system. Prosecuting him doesn't serve justice. It destroys a promising young life for the sake of statistics."
Cedric was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the leather-inlaid desk blotter. “You three are really pushing for this kid.”
“Because it’s the right call,” Pete added.
Cedric's weathered face remained impassive, but Sandra caught the slight softening around his eyes. “Fine. No charges. But I want updates, and if he puts one toe out of line, I expect to be the first to know.”
Jeremy nodded. “Appreciate it.”
Sandra let out a breath she’d been holding. “His mother will implement stricter rules about his social activities, and he can work with her cleaning the Legal Aid offices two afternoons a week.”
"Community service," Cedric mused aloud. "Something visible, something that shows we're taking this seriously."
Sandra felt the tension drain from her shoulders, replaced by the familiar surge of satisfaction that came with victory. "Thank you, Mr. McCalister. You won't regret this decision." She walked out of his office, smiling her thanks to Jeremy and Pete.
As she made her way out of the courthouse, Sandra's heels clicked against the marble floors of the courthouse corridor.
Her phone buzzed in her purse, and without thinking, she glanced at the screen.
Terry's name stared back at her. Her finger hovered over the answer button, trembling slightly as her heart rate spiked.
The phone continued its insistent buzzing, and she could almost see him on the other end, probably pacing in his office or sitting in his truck, wondering if she'd send him to voicemail. Again.
Stop being a coward, she chastised herself, the words echoing in her mind with the kind of brutal honesty she usually reserved for clients.
"Hey," she answered softly, her voice barely above a whisper, and immediately heard his exhale on the other end.
"Sandra. I wasn't sure you'd pick up."
The relief in his voice melted over her, and she had to swallow hard against the emotion rising in her throat. She pushed through the courthouse doors into the afternoon air, grateful for the privacy of the parking lot.
"Terry, I'm sorry. I know you called yesterday, but I had court all day and then the Reeves case needed immediate attention. Today has been nonstop." The words tumbled out in a rush, part explanation and part excuse. All true but not the whole truth.
"I know Jeremy and Pete were meeting with you and McCalister about the kid.”
"Yes, we just finished. And before you ask, they're leaving with smiles on their faces. Cedric agreed to drop the charges in exchange for community service." She kept her voice professionally neutral, safer ground than whatever emotional minefield lay ahead of them.
He chuckled, a low sound that she felt deep in her chest, warming places that had felt cold since Saturday night. "Good. I'm glad. The kid deserves a break."
Silence stretched between them then, scratchy and uncomfortable like wool against bare skin. Sandra found herself holding her breath, waiting for him to push.
He was the first to speak, his voice gentle but determined. "We need to talk, Sandra."
The words she'd been dreading were delivered with the kind of quiet intensity that reminded her why she'd been attracted to him in the first place.
Terry didn't shy away from difficult conversations or let things fester.
It was one of the qualities she admired most about him, and right now it terrified her.
"I know." She paused, leaning against her car in the parking lot, struggling to find words that wouldn't sound like more excuses.
"I'm being a coward, Terry. I'm sorry. Friday night surprised me, and I haven't quite dealt with my feelings.
And with this case and everything else going on, this really isn't a good time to delve into everything. "
Even as she said it, she knew it sounded like she was pushing him away, buying time she didn't really need. But the truth was more complicated than that. She needed space to figure out how to articulate what that night had done to her, how it had shaken her confidence in ways she hadn't expected.
Another sigh drifted through the phone, followed by words that surprised her with their understanding. "Okay, I can respect that. But I don't want you to become mired in negative thoughts until we've had a face-to-face conversation. Please, let me know when we can talk."
Sandra thought of her packed schedule, the mental calendar filled with client meetings, court dates, and home visits that suddenly felt suffocating. Her workload at Legal Aid was relentless, but she knew that to Terry it would sound like she was putting him off indefinitely.
“I have an American Legion meeting tomorrow night,” he said with a sigh, “but that’s my only commitment this week.”
"How about Friday? I know that's several days away, but I have three clients in court this week, and an American Legion Auxiliary meeting on Wednesday night. We could meet for lunch?"
The question hung in the air, and she found herself holding her breath again, waiting for his response. Part of her hoped he'd push back and demand to see her sooner. Another part hoped he'd give her the space she was asking for.
"Okay, whatever you need," he said, his voice softer now, more understanding than she deserved. "But promise me you won't get into your head before then."
The phrase made her lips curve into the first genuine smile she'd felt in days. He knew her well enough already to recognize her tendency to overthink, to analyze every angle until she'd talked herself into or out of whatever decision lay before her.
"I promise," she said, though even as the words left her mouth, she wondered if it was a promise she could keep.
After exchanging goodbyes with careful politeness, she hit disconnect and immediately felt the weight of the silence in the parking lot. Leaning against her car, she closed her eyes and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Her job at Legal Aid was demanding, and had been easy to fall into, letting it take over her life.
She hadn't dated anyone seriously since taking the position, but it wasn’t because she hadn't been asked.
She'd received her share of invitations from fellow attorneys, social workers, and even a few of the single fathers she'd met through various community functions.
But the demands of representing clients who couldn't afford private counsel had made her feel like she had to be available constantly, always fighting for someone who had no one else to fight for them.
Every case felt urgent, every client deserved her full attention, and somewhere along the way, she'd convinced herself that personal relationships were a luxury she couldn't afford.
Now, standing in the courthouse parking lot with the evening air cooling around her, she wondered if allowing her work to consume every aspect of her life was really the noble sacrifice she'd convinced herself it was.
When had she become someone who avoided phone calls from a man who made her feel more like herself than she had in years?
The drive back to her office gave her time to think, to process the victory with the Reeves case and the complicated emotions stirred up by Terry's call.
She'd chosen Legal Aid because she wanted to make a difference, but somewhere along the way, she'd forgotten that taking care of others didn't mean neglecting herself entirely.
Pulling into her parking space, Sandra sat for a moment thinking about meeting Terry on Friday.
The thought both terrified and thrilled her in equal measure. She had no idea what he wanted to talk about. Would he want to fight for them to continue or let her know that he didn’t have room for her in his life as a single dad?
As she climbed out of her car, she realized she hated the vulnerability, but no longer wanted to hide.