I’d never felt so vulnerable, rushing into the courthouse not knowing whether she’d be waiting for me or not. We were on the second floor, and instead of waiting in line for the elevator, Analise and I opted for the stairs.
The door at the end of the corridor opened with a sharp snap, echoing loudly through the hallway of gleaming tile floor. Three minutes until my appointed time with the judge.
The bailiff at the correct door gave me a look of consternation when we rushed toward where he was waiting.
“Sorry,” I told him. “We got held up.”
Analise smiled prettily. “It was my fault.” She held up her phone. “You know how us young kids can be. I got distracted. Wereallyappreciate your patience.”
The bailiff softened, nodding his chin toward the heavy wooden door. “Head on in. They’re all waiting for you.”
I blinked. “Who is?”
Before he could answer, Analise stopped, straightening the collar on my shirt and smoothing my perfectly smooth tie. “You’ll do great. Just ... just do what you practiced. You have both of your letters?”
As I batted her away with one hand, I held up the other, showing the slightly squished letters.
“One for the judge,” she said. “And one—”
“We don’t even know if she’s here,” I answered gruffly, fighting the knot of nerves at the base of my throat. “But if she is, yes, I know whatto do. I think. As long as I can find a private moment with her and she’s willing to hear me out.”
Analise nodded, her eyes lingering on the door.
“Why doyoulook nervous?”
“I’m not,” she said. Nervously.
There was no time for this. I shook my head as I pushed into the courtroom, expecting a bunch of empty rows and the stern expression of the judge, just like last time.
Except it wasn’t empty, and the judge’s expression wasn’t stern. She was peering over her glasses, smiling.
And the room ... the room wasfull.
Almost every head turned in my direction, and my lungs ceased functioning.
In the back row, team captains and some of the defense.
In front of them were Coach King and his wife. Assistant coaches. Mitch, my quarterback coach. Even Coach King’s scary assistant, Bridget, sat next to the team’s owner, who was dripping with diamonds and whispering to Coach’s wife.
Brooks, Williams, Smith, and half of the Buffalo offense sat in the middle two rows.
“How?” I whispered.
Analise gently gripped my hand and squeezed. “I told you I was busy this morning,” she whispered back. “You needed to see people who are proud of you, and there’s so many more than you realize.”
My eyes jumped from face to face, humbled beyond words at what I saw but still looking, looking, looking for the one face I really wanted to see.
In the front row, I saw her, and I couldn’t breathe.
Remi.
Pops was to her right, Ness on her left, and a silver-haired woman I recognized from my first day at the shelter. Remi’s boss, if I remembered correctly. Everyone was looking at me, smiling or nodding or showingsome variation of support. Except Remi. All I saw was red hair, straight and smooth down her back, as she faced the judge.
She was here. She was here. She washere.
Maybe I’d still have to climb Mount Everest to overcome the damage I’d done, but God, I’d do it. I’d do it a thousand times if I had to.
Finally, she turned.