Page 10 of Broken Halo
Trig doesn’t wait for her to answer and looks back over his shoulders at the two uniformed officers who haven’t said boo since Jen and Trig arrived. “Do you have anything to add to her report?”
They shake their heads and one answers, “The little guy’s congested, but who isn’t during this time of year in Texas? Allergies are the worst.”
Trig nods in agreement and looks back to Paula. I shudder at his next words because I know what he’s referring to. “I’ve seen some bad cases of parenting in my day, Ms. Watson, but this isn’t one of them. I suggest that unless you can prove that Griffin Ketteman is currently unsafe, you should go back to your office, move forward with your job, and I’ll be in contact. But as you can see, there’s nothing here for you to do. I speak for my client when I say, I’m sure she’d like to get back to her day and care for her sick child.”
“Well,” Paula stacks her papers and closes the file as she swallows hard. “I do agree. Besides suffering from a cold, the subject does appear safe. I’ll move forward with my paperwork.”
“You can investigate and assess all you want, but if you try to intimidate my client again, I’ll be filing charges on her behalf with the county. The last I heard, judges like to keep families together, not rip them apart. You had the element of surprise today, but that will not happen again.”
I’ve sat here silent, not uttering a peep since he stalked into my house and back into my life like a freight train.
“Ellie.” I shift my gaze as I hear my name pass his lips for the first time in what seems like ten lifetimes. His eyes are void of everything I remember in them—warmth, love, and heat, the way he’d see me and only me. But not today. Not anymore. “Do you have any questions?”
Questions?
Hell, yes. I have a million—maybe two. But they all have to do with why life is unfair and painful and nothing but one slap across the face after another.
Instead, I hug my baby tighter and shake my head. “No.”
“Should you need any further information from my client, you can call me.” Trig lays out the law for Paula as he hands her a business card, one that no-doubt has the raised, embossed logo with my family’s corporation where he’s been lead counsel for the last month since my older sister feels the need to torture me.
Paula takes Trig’s business card, the file packed with lies about how I’m neglecting my son, and turns to leave. The officers mutter their goodbyes and turn to follow her out. Jen doesn’t leave my side but Trig follows them to the door.
Me? I hold my breath, my composure, and claw at the last bits of my frayed emotions until I hear the heavy front door click.
My sister’s self-control melts as soon as the lock turns and she hisses under her breath so as not to wake Griffin, “What the hell have they done now?”
I shake my head and squeeze my eyes because I can’t fall apart. Not yet—not with Trig anywhere near. Griffin starts to stir and I’m grateful he was able to sleep through most of that. “I don’t know. I guess they’re coming after me since I refused to speak to them after Robert died. They all but blamed me.” I look to Jen. “How they could twist that around in their pretentious heads, I have no idea.”
Trig stalks back in, but stops at the entrance to the two-story family room. Jen does what she does best—takes charge, digging through her bag until she finds her cell. “I’ll call Eli. He can look into Carl and Teresa. This isn’t an official case yet, but we need to start planning your defense and that starts with finding out what the hell they’re up to.”
Trig nods and Jen walks into the kitchen to make her call.
I readjust Griffin on my chest. I don’t know what to expect from Trig. I never thought the day would come when we’d be in the same room again, let alone for a reason like this. It stings when he’s all business and asks, “Why would your dead husband’s parents lie about you?”
I try not to look at him and instead focus on Griffin, who’s now back to snoring away on my chest. I don’t want Trig in the house I shared with Robert and I really don’t want him representing me. I don’t know how to be around him after all this time and I’m not interested in figuring it out. “Who knows? Maybe I am a terrible mother. Just when you think you know someone, it can blow up in your face, right?”
He advances a few steps. “Don’t throw your attitude—not with me. Do yourself a favor and tell me everything. My guess, your sister is gonna have her man all over this, and if there’s shit to be had on them, we’ll know it. The more I know about your background with them, the more I can do.”
I look up and realize how different we are now. I’m not the carefree girl who fell hard for the bad-boy ranch hand—so hard I barely found my way out. He’s not the same either. The controlled, focused attorney I just witnessed is nothing like the hot-headed cowboy I thought would be mine forever.
“Dammit. You’re not doing yourself any favors. If I’m going to help, you have to talk to me.”
I stand and pull Griff up in my arms. Moving straight through the room, I stop two feet shy of him and more memories fill my head. I look up. His size, strength, and sheer aura that emanates off him in spades are just a few of the things that haven’t changed.
I guess some things never will, just like all that happened years ago. That, heartbreakingly, has been written into stone, no matter how much I’ve tried to dream it away over the years.
I even my voice as I remind myself of all the ways we’re now different. “They hated me—it didn’t matter what I did to try to change that. Some insignificant dancer from Texas who dropped out of Juilliard a year before graduation—even if I did make it to Broadway—was never good enough for their son. Robert didn’t help either. I was only a means to an end for him and his mother was a monster when it came to my family. Anything else you need to know, ask your boss. She knows everything about me. I can’t handle any other distractions. I need to focus on my son and my new studio.”
Trig’s jaw hardens and he crosses his arms as he glares down at me. “Who said I was going to be a distraction?”
He was always a distraction. “I’ll find my own representation. I don’t need you.”
“Are you a Montgomery?”
My eyes narrow and I don’t answer. Being a Montgomery is a point of contention from the past I have no desire to revisit.
He takes a step—we’re so close I remember the cravings I used to have just to touch him. I was obsessed as a girl and those memories swirl through me and my insides twist and turn. The only reason I can pretend to be strong and hold my ground is because my sleeping son is sandwiched between us.
