When her eyes met mine, my heart pitched erratically in my chest, wondering what she might be thinking. And then she smiled.
It wasn’t big and it wasn’t showy. Closed lips, no teeth, and I felt like I was a hundred feet tall. I needed that smile to keep breathing, for my blood to keep pumping, my legs to hold me upright when I felt really fucking unsteady. My nervous system lit the fuck up like she’d clipped it to a live wire. That smile staked a claim in the corner of my mind that hadn’t stopped thinking of her for the last four days.
Unthinkingly, I raised a hand and settled it over my heart, the thrashing beneath my palm a strange comfort when I’d felt disconnected from my own life for so long.
Remi saw the gesture for what it was, read the relief behind it, and her smile softened even further.
“Mr. Evans, welcome back.”
The judge was happier to see me today, and I pulled in a deep breath before laying my hand on Analise’s arm. “Thank you,” I told her, then lifted my chin toward the bench seats. She leaned up on the balls of her feet and laid a quick kiss on my cheek, then took a seat next to Pops.
The envelopes in my hand were crumpled to hell as I made my way to the table where I’d sit to face the judge. The same seat where I’d sat next to my father and kept my eyes down and my mouth shut, just waiting for it to be over.
There was no point in letting shame boil over, because that feeling only held power when you continued to define yourself by your worst choices.
Shame had no place here because I wasn’t ever going back.
As I took my seat, someone else joined me. When Williams stood behind the chair at my side, I blinked up at him. “Rookie, what the fuck are you doing?” I hissed.
He ignored me. “I’d like to stand in as his legal representation today. He has no one to act in that capacity, and, um, I don’t want him to feel alone up here.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Grant, go sit down.”
He ignored that too.
The judge eyed him warily. “And you are ...?”
“Grant Williams, sir.”
A low swell of laughter worked through the room, and the judge arched a brow very,veryslowly.
He blanched. “Ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
She sighed. “Your Honorworks just fine, Mr. Williams.”
“Of course, Your Honor. I’m a teammate of Archer’s. I’m ... I’m his friend. I think. He intimidates me a little, but I still like him.”
Slowly, my hand dropped, and I finally glanced up at his face. He was nervous, yes, but determined.
This fucking kid would be the death of me, and now I’d never want to get rid of him.
The judge gave me an amused look, then shifted her attention back to Grant. “Do you have a license to practice law, young man?”
“No?”
“I didn’t think so.” She sighed. “It’s illegal to practice law without a license, but I’m feeling unexpectedly generous today by this display of goodwill and support for Mr. Evans. You may sit with him—but first, why don’t you bring me the signed paperwork from his community service hours.”
“Yes, ma’am. Your Honor,” he corrected on a rush.
I handed him the paper bearing Remi’s signature, and Williams walked it up to the judge’s bench like it was the most important thing he’d ever done in his life. While she studied it, I laid both envelopeson the table. One was void of any writing, and the second held the judge’s name.
The adrenaline rush from Remi’s smile had ebbed a bit now that I wasn’t facing her, and nerves quickly eclipsed anything else I was feeling.
This wasn’t a trial, I reminded myself.
Williams took his seat and smoothed his hands down the front of his dress shirt. “How’d I do, QB?”
“You’re a natural, Williams,” I answered dryly.