Chapter 28
Dani
The next morning, I made a conscious decision not to think about lunch the day before.
No replaying my father’s tone.
No dissecting my mother’s silence.
No questioning whether I’d said too much or not enough.
And no overthinking the way Logan softly offered reassurance.
Instead, I soothed my inner child by letting Harper take the lead.
The morning started with a karaoke concert in my car. The vibrations of the bass thumped through the cup holders, setting a lively beat for the ride. After lunch at my parents’ the day before, I leaned on Harper’s boundless energy to keep me going.
Harper took over as DJ, flipping through the playlist before she landed on her favorite tune, declaring it her theme song.
Despite the off-key versions we belted out, she played it with an unstoppable glee that had us both laughing so hard that my throat ached and my cheeks hurt by the time we arrived at her school.
“Encore!” she yelled, unbuckling herself before the song even finished.
“Next time,” I said, leaning back to catch my breath. “The audience has court today.”
She grinned, hopping out and slamming the door before turning back.
“I’ll see you later, superstar,” I said, smiling and waving dramatically out of the window.
She blew me a kiss and ran off, glittery backpack bouncing, turning once to wave before disappearing into the crowd of kids.
I sat there for a second longer than necessary, then took a deep breath, readying myself for the workday ahead before I drove to the office.
The public defender’s office was already buzzing when I walked in with phones ringing, voices overlapping, and the smell of stale office coffee thick in the air.
I dropped my bag at my desk, booted up my computer, and caught myself humming the last song Harper and I had butchered together.
It should’ve been a normal day.
But despite my effort, a sense of distraction lingered, pulling me away from the present moment.
Instead, my thoughts were on a man who texted me Good morning with a subtle confidence that steadied me more than caffeine ever could.
On the man who had his hands on my hips just a few nights before.
We’d talked every day since. Although he danced around what happened that night, things had felt different.
He felt closer, more open. And his reassurances last night still clung to me.
As I reached for a file, I realized I had absentmindedly written Logan’s name on the sticky note, where Ms. Thompson’s name should have been.
Heat crawled up my neck. I peeled it off quickly, hoping no one had noticed, and rewrote it properly.
What pulled at my mind most was that I wasn’t sure what to expect when he finally came home. Would I return to feeling unfulfilled, searching for myself, or keep the sense of belonging I’d established with Harper and Logan? The idea was scary, making me tense.
Logan’s grief over losing his wife often surfaced in our quiet moments.
Sometimes I heard a pause in Logan’s voice, a new softness, as if he was learning to trust me with his vulnerability.
When he mentioned Harper or his plans, his words felt cautious and hopeful, as if he were as uncertain as I was about what lay ahead.
I could never fill her place, nor did I want to, but I hoped I could find my own.
I shook my head and pulled a file toward me. I was getting ahead of myself; it was just a kiss with a very grumpy marine who had a few drinks and the confessions that followed were made just to smooth is all over.
I took a steadying breath and tried to ground myself. I needed to focus, with a full slate of work ahead, before picking up Harper for dance class, I didn’t have time to be lost in fantasies.
Just as I had finally settled into a groove I was interrupted.
“Morning, Counselor Moreno.”
I resisted the urge to sigh as Assistant District Attorney, Josh Wilder leaned against my door frame like a walking cliché.
Expensive suit. Polished shoes. That too-practiced smile, the kind that worked well in court and apparently everywhere else.
“Morning,” I replied, eyes already back on my screen.
He stepped inside my office without invitation and perched on the edge of my desk.
“I was hoping to catch you,” he said. “You free later? Thought we could grab a drink.”
It wasn’t new. It was practically a rite of passage as a young, female, and competent in this field.
People assumed your smile was an invitation, your professionalism was flirtation, and if you were kind, you were available.
Each instance chipped away at my patience, a reminder of the constant balancing act I had to perform.
Sometimes after these exchanges, I would catch myself clenching my jaw or rubbing my temples, tension radiating down my neck and settling in my shoulders.
It was frustrating and exhausting, a relentless background hum that I couldn’t tune out.
Some days, it made me want to melt into invisibility, just to get a break from carrying that invisible weight.
Still, even on the worst days, I reminded myself of what brought me back.
There was hope in every client I helped, and in the small moments of kindness and honesty that made even the hardest days feel worthwhile.
I held onto the belief that every bit of resilience I showed today would make tomorrow a little lighter.
I glanced up then, meeting his eyes. “I’m busy, can’t.”
He chuckled like I’d made a joke. “Come on, Daniela. One drink. You deserve it after how you ran circles around my witness last week.”
Just then, my phone buzzed on the desk.
I already knew who it was without looking.
Still, I did.
Logan: Survive Monday
morning drop off?
I turned, facing the D.A. fully now. “Josh. I’ve told you before — It’s Dani, and I’m not interested.”
He leaned in a little, still smiling like this was a game. “You’ve got to loosen up. You’re always so serious.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m always professional. And this job is serious.”
That wiped the smile from his face for half a second. “You know, a lot of attorneys would kill for the kind of reputation you’re building.”
“I’m not here to build a reputation,” I said, voice cool. “I’m here to serve people who don’t have the luxury of choosing a defense.”
Josh shifted, clearly not expecting me to push back that hard. “Fine,” he muttered. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“You can when he doesn’t listen the first time,” I let out a slow breath and stood, squaring my shoulders.
He paused at the threshold. “You’ll come around eventually.” He quipped.
I met his gaze without flinching. “Not in this lifetime.”
For a beat, the office noise seemed to fade.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Grace, one of the paralegals I worked with, walking in. Her short black bob swayed as she rushed into the office, her Dr. Marten boots stopping across the floor. I envied Grace for the ways she defined the norms with such confidence.
“There you are,” she said brightly, cutting in without missing a beat. She glanced pointedly at the DA, her smile sharp but professional before turning to me. “I was just coming to, ya know, do some work. Everything good here?”
Her pointed glance at Josh was surgical.
The DA blinked, clearly re-calibrating, muttered something about following up later, and retreated down the hall.
Grace waited until he was out of earshot before leaning in. “You good?”
I exhaled, tension easing from my shoulders. “Yeah. Thanks for the save.”
“Anytime,” she said, pressing the files into my hands. “He’s such a creep.”
I smiled, grounding myself in the familiar weight of the paperwork. “He sure is.”
She started to walk off, then paused and glanced back at me. “For what it’s worth, you handled that perfectly.”
I watched her disappear down the hallway, allowing myself to process that entire interaction.
I hadn’t raised my voice, hadn’t apologized, hadn’t softened the boundary to make him comfortable. And it felt… unexpectedly empowering—a spark of self-assurance settling inside me as I realized the shift.
It wasn’t the first time a male colleague had mistaken confidence for flirtation. It probably wouldn’t be the last. But today, it grated more than usual.
Maybe because it felt so different from how Logan treated me.
Although he was gruff and cold at first, I learned that was just the surface of who he was.
He’d asked how my court days went, read parenting articles, and checked in with me every night after saying goodnight to his daughter.
Although I knew he did it for his little girl and not out of interest in me, there was never any game with him, never any expectations.
I leaned against my desk for a second, rubbing my temple. A faint smile tugged at my lips as my phone buzzed.
Logan: Good luck in
court today, counselor.
Me: Thanks, cowboy.
Me: Karaoke was a disaster,
btw. Harper definitely won.
Logan: She’s ruthless. I
got to head back to work.
Call with Harper once
you guys get home?
Me: Of course.
Logan: Promise?
Me: Yes, I promise… now
I know where Harper
gets that from.
I put my phone down, drawing in a breath before turning my focus fully to the stack of work waiting for me.
Today, I had motions to draft, clients to call, and a system to push against. My first case of the day was critical.
Ms. Thompson was facing a severe charge for drug possession.
Helping her navigate the bureaucracy was a priority, and the nuances of her case needed my full attention.
The stakes were high for her, and getting this right meant the difference between getting the treatment she needed and being tossed into jail and losing everything.
As I prepared, I focused on every detail, knowing that these were the moments when a single word could impact lives.
For a moment, I saw myself on the other side of the desk: scared, with everything to lose, hoping someone would believe I deserved another chance.
It reminded me of why I kept showing up, even on the hard days.
I wanted, more than anything, to give people like Ms. Thompson the dignity and fight I often wished for myself.
When I met Ms. Thompson later, her hands trembled as she signed the necessary paperwork for a plea agreement, the pen shaking against the paper.
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
I held her gaze.
“We’re not giving up,” I told her. “We’re choosing the path that gives you a future.”
Her shoulders sagged in relief as I walked her through every step. It was a visceral reminder of all she stood to lose, of the system’s weight resting heavily on her shoulders. But the difference now was both subtle and profound. I wasn’t bracing myself against the world alone anymore.
I had a morning full of laughter behind me. A man who saw me clearly waiting ahead, even if we were still figuring out what it meant.
So when someone mistook my kindness for an invitation, my smile for a signal, my presence for a green light, I didn’t second-guess myself.
I shut it down.
Objection sustained.