My feet feel like they weigh a thousand pounds, and my heart’s threatening to break a fucking rib, but I follow her directions, refusing to linger. I know if I stop, I might not go in at all.
The door’s cracked, and a soft conversation filters through it. Can’t make out what they’re saying, but I recognize both voices.
“This is it,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut. My knuckles pop from how hard my fists are clenched. “You’ve been to war. You can do this.”
Correction. Ihaveto do this. For Marlee, and Aurora. For me.
A sweet laugh has my eyes snapping open.
Not the clipped, professional tone she’s used every time we’ve spoken. This is softer. Warm and real.
I inhale sharply, caught off guard by how it sounds—how it rolls over me. How it settles something sharp and frantic in my chest. I’m nervous as hell, seconds from bolting or throwing up,or both, but that laugh? It cuts through the noise in my head like sunlight through fog.
For a second, I let myself believe it. Let myself soak it in, soothe my nerves like the finest whiskey in South Dakota. Then I square my shoulders and step inside.
My boots echo against the linoleum as I walk through the door and all but ignore Georgia Walker as if she didn’t just heal me for a breath. I’m pretty sure if she caught my eye right now, she’d see everything I’m trying to hide.
So, I focus on the man I knew as a kid, but haven’t seen since high school.
Judge Romero is heavier than I remember, all gray hair and kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He looks up from a stack of papers laid out on a small table, gives me a familiar smile, and pushes to stand.
Pulling my Stetson off, I hold it to my chest with one hand and extend the other like the polite man I need these people to think I am.
“Kade,” he says, his deep voice booming through the tiny room. I swallow hard, thankful it’s not a full court room. “It’s been a long damn time, son.”
“Good to see you, Frank.”
I shake his hand, firm, quick, then shove mine back into my pocket, and hope like hell he can’t tell how terrified I am right now. My hat stays off since I’m in proper company, but I clutch the damn thing like a lifeline.
“I’m sure sorry about these circumstances,” he says, voice low, hand squeezing my shoulder. “But glad you could be here today.”
I swallow hard. “Thank you, sir.”
He turns his attention to Georgia, and gives her a soft, almost fatherly smile. “Ms. Walker, I’ve gotta make a call in my office. We’ll get started soon.”
“Of course, Judge Romero,” she replies, all sugar and silk. “Take your time.”
I watch him disappear through the door, the latch clicking softly behind him.
And then it's just me and her. I take a slow breath, wait a beat,or five, and turn toward her, bracing for the sight of freckles and fire.
But all I find is frost.
I force a smile. Georgia looks away, ignoring me completely, and rolls her prim little shoulders back like a posh city girl too good for this town.
The hell’s that about?
When I walked in, she was laughing with Frank like they were old friends. Now, there’s not an ounce of the wildfire that burned through my apartment last week, or in my arms a few days ago. Just icy professionalism that grates on my nerves.
I shouldn't care. Hell, I shouldn’t even notice.
But I do.
Jaw ticking and temper flaring, I stalk over and drag out the chair right next to her—loudly—ignoring the perfectly good one across the table.
“Nice to see you, Ms. Walker.” My voice is a low rumble that’d scare the hide off a horse. She jumps, and on the inside, I’m fucking cheering. “Hope you haven't ruined anyone's day lately.”
Slow as fresh, sticky honey, she turns to face me, cocking her head to the side. “Excuse me?”
