“Ms. Simmons,” he said, his voice smooth and measured. “Please sit down.”
We settled into the leather chairs across from his desk. Logan already had a folder open.
“Dex gave me the broad strokes on the phone, but I want to hear it from you,” he said, looking at me over his glasses. “Thereport says you initiated the physical contact at the salon. Is that accurate?”
“Not exactly,” I said and started from the top. “I had been trying to reach my girlfriend, but she wasn’t answering,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “We share locations for safety reasons and when I saw she was at her ex’s shop I got concerned. The shop is closed on Sundays so I went to check on her. When I got there I overheard an inappropriate conversation between the two of them.”
Logan leaned back, pen poised. “Did you become physical after hearing it?”
“No. I confronted them verbally. Trisha is her ex, so I let them both know how disrespectful the conversation was.”
“What was the nature of the conversation?”
“They were reminiscing about how they met. Kel made a comment about how Trisha’s body looked and that’s when I stepped in.”
“Verbally or physically at that point?”
“Verbally. It didn’t get physical until Kel tried to physically remove me from the premises. That’s when Trisha started making remarks about my relationship, saying Kel kept coming back to her because I was lacking. After that, things escalated.”
Logan nodded, writing steadily. “So, the physical contact began when your girlfriend put hands on you to remove you, and Trisha escalated with targeted verbal provocation about your relationship.”
“Yes,” I said.
“That’s a much stronger angle. It frames your reaction as a response to both physical and emotional provocation rather than an unprovoked attack.”
Logan wasn’t a criminal defense attorney by trade. He spent his days looking at blueprints and tax codes, but in a city like Mobile who you know is just as important as what you know. Hetapped his pen against the mahogany desk, looking between me and Dex.
“I’ll be honest with you Nique. My firm lives in corporate litigation and land use. For a criminal domestic matter like this you need somebody who has breakfast with the DA on a regular basis.”
My stomach dropped.
“However,” he continued, catching my expression. “I’m not sending you out there alone. I’m handing this file personally to Henry Thorne. He’s the sharpest criminal defense mind in South Alabama and he knows exactly how to work the provocation angle we just outlined. I’ll stay on as a consultant to make sure your interests are covered on every side, but Henry is the one who is going to make these charges disappear.”
Dex leaned back looking satisfied. “Thorne was your connection that helped handle that zoning situation with the city last year, right?”
“The very same. He has the temperament for this kind of case.” Logan stood and extended his hand across the desk. “Don’t worry about the retainer Dex. We’ll handle the administrative side between our offices. Nique, expect a call from Henry’s assistant within the hour. And stay away from Kelly.”
“I have no plans of ever seeing her again,” I said, and I meant every word of it. We walked back out into the midday heat. Dex waited until we were in the truck with the AC going before he said anything.
“You good?” he asked, his eyes moving over my face looking for the cracks.
“I think so,” I muttered, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. “I just can’t believe I’m in this position. Over her. I don’t even have a place to go Dex. I’m homeless right now.”
“I just told you I built a whole house for you,” he said, pulling out into traffic.
I looked at him, the morning still hovering in the back of my mind. I wanted to hold onto every reason I had not to trust him but watching him move through my mess without hesitation was wearing my defenses down faster than I could stack them back up.
“Why are you doing all of this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dex didn’t hesitate. He kept his eyes on the road but that slow knowing pull at the corner of his mouth gave him away.
“Because you’re my person Nique,” he said. “Always have been. I got a lot of years' worth of fumbles to make up for.”
I didn’t have a rebuttal for that. I turned back toward the window and watched the city blur past. I wanted to trust him again. I wanted my friend back more than anything. I could line up a hundred good memories of us without even trying. The problem wasn’t whether I still loved him. I knew the answer to that. The problem was whether love was ever going to be enough to outweigh everything that had happened in between.
Chapter twelve
Submerged