Chapter 42
42
A fter having one of the best nights of my life at the fall festival, I tell Adrian good night—okay, kiss him good night—and ride home with my parents and River.
We help them unload the car from my mom’s booth, where she sold cookies for my grandfather’s church. Instead of going to our cottages when we’re finished, River and I stay to hang out with my parents.
River and my dad make a drink at the wet bar and talk business.
“I saw you with Adrian tonight,” my mom says, handing me a throw blanket as we curl up on the leather couch in the family room, making ourselves comfortable. “River told me what happened.”
“River has such a big mouth,” I grumble. “So much for twin secrets.”
She sits next to me, stealing some of my blanket. “He was worried about you.”
I pick at a loose strand in the blanket. “Sometimes, I wish people would worry about me less.”
“As your mother, I promise you, that’ll never happen. The same with your father. ”
I fluff a throw pillow and prop it behind my back. “Will you tell me Dad’s and your love story again? It’s my favorite.”
I need something uplifting tonight.
My brain needs a break from its constant anxiety about what’ll happen tomorrow.
I feel a knot forming in my belly, just thinking about it.
She laughs, her face brightening, as if she’s already reliving the memory. “I swear, your father should’ve never told you that as a bedtime story.”
“Why? It’s my favorite fairy tale.”
“I hope someday, your favorite fairy tale will be yours when you get your happily ever after.”
My shoulders slump. “If that ever happens.”
“It will, honey,” she says with absolute certainty.
“It seems my Prince Charming preferred to hurt me.” I shut my eyes, wishing I believed her words.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice is heartfelt, but there’s still a dose of sadness. “It’s hard, giving someone your heart and them not cherishing it like they should. But if Ethan’s death taught us anything, it’s that time shouldn’t be taken for granted. We can’t take temporary anger as our final decision without giving a chance of forgiveness.”
I relax against the couch, lowering my chin so my eyes don’t meet hers. “Who said I gave Adrian my heart?”
“Oh, I know my daughter,” she says around a laugh.
“Love sucks.” I throw my head back.
“Sometimes, yes. But it tends to correct itself.”
“Like you and Dad.”
“Like me and your dad.”
“Now, let me hear my favorite fairy tale.”
She gives me what I want and recites their love story. It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. Like she said, my dad would use it as his fairy tale at night.
Whenever she tells me, she takes painful pauses, keeping some details from me. Their love story wasn’t easy either .
She and my father went to high school together here in Blue Beech and were complete opposites. He was the popular bad boy, and she was the studious daughter of the town’s preacher. They became best friends after he attempted to bribe her to write a paper. After that, they were inseparable. They attended the same college, but from the way my mom’s voice drops when she talks about it, I know something traumatic happened to her there. She dropped out and moved home, but neither of my parents will ever tell me why.
It took them a while before they got together, but she said once they admitted their feelings to each other, their love took off from there. My dad says my mom saved him, while she says the opposite.
I long for a love like that.
A love that, even with flaws, is beautiful.
It might even be compared with perfection.
I pull myself up to sit on my knees and lean forward to hug her when she’s finished.
Using my sleeve, I wipe a tear from her cheek.
She does the same with mine, only with her thumb.
I collapse back onto my butt, and she smiles at me.
River and my dad join us, and we watch a movie.
A movie I can barely concentrate on.
I couldn’t even tell you the main characters’ names.
Tomorrow will decide how beautiful or ugly my love story with Adrian will be.
The following morning, I’m in my office drinking coffee when Lainey knocks on my door.
“Come in,” I call out even though the door is already halfway open.
She steps inside, her hair halfway falling from her clip and her eyes sleepy. I think we all stayed at the festival a little too late last night.
I saw her and her boyfriend snagging many samples from the brewery’s tent.
“I have someone here asking about representation. She doesn’t have a meeting,” she reports. “Do you want to see her, or I can schedule her in for another time?”
As of right now, my client list is currently sitting at zero.
Brielle has been my one and only.
I move a stack of paperwork to the corner of my desk. “Did she give you a name?”
“Jenna Marvin.”
I silently blink at her.
“I can tell her you’re unavailable,” Lainey says, clearly reading the shocked expression on my face.
“No. You can send her in.”
She scurries out of my office, and seconds later, she leads Jenna into my office.
No one says a word.
Why is she here?
The only thing I can think of is divorce representation.
Her husband is a straight asshole.
Not as bad as her high school boyfriend, though.
Thankfully, he moved away a long time ago.
Maybe she heard about my success with Brielle and thinks I can help her too.
Lainey, getting the hint again, backs out of my office, not bothering to shut the door.
Jenna scratches the back of her head, searching for words.
“What can I do for you, Jenna?” I ask, helping her out.
She looks relieved at my starting the conversation. “I’d like to hire you for representation.”
“For what?”
“I’m, uh …” She glances back at the door, as if she doesn’t want anyone to overhear her words. “I don’t exactly know how to legally say this, but I need an attorney because I know someone committed a crime, and I never turned them in.”
Technically, depending on the crime, it might not even be a serious offense.
I motion for her to sit, and she tiptoes into my office, carefully sitting as if expecting someone to pull it out from beneath her.
“What was the crime?” I ask, grabbing my pen and notebook.
She waits.
“Jenna, we’d have attorney-client privilege. You came to me for help, and you can’t be that vague. If I don’t know everything, I don’t know how to help you.”
She folds her hands in her lap and stares at them. “I never told anyone I know who really killed Ethan Leonard.” She raises her chin, halfway looking at me. “And it’s not the man in prison for it.”