Page 35 of Broken Boss

I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that question. Grant, maybe, back when we used to talk for hours in between jury selection or late nights spent in the office.

“Philosophy.”

Autumn does a double take, scrunches her nose. “Wait—really?”

“Oh, yeah. It shouldn’t be too surprising. Part of being a lawyer is about asking endless questions to get to the truth, right?”

She laughs, head tipping back, light from the streetlamps spilling across her features. The sun is low on the horizon and just barely lighting up the park as we enter it. But there are still groups of people milling about, couples walking arm in arm, squirrels darting across the path.

I wonder if, from a distance, we look like a couple.

If anyone could ever believe that a woman like her could fall for a man like me.

We settle into a comfortable silence as Frank cruises the paths, stopping sporadically to sniff and be curious. He pays particular attention to a hot dog vendor and Autumn’s stomach growls. She blushes again, embarrassed, as I chuckle.

We step onto a wide path that looks familiar, and it takes me a second to realize it’s at the bottom of a hill—the hill Grant and I sit on top of when we catch up now and then. I wish, suddenly, that he was there to give me advice; a silent observer who could whisper in my ear, tell me what to say or do, how to keep her by my side.

I barely know Autumn Cavendish and I’m already terrified of losing her.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, her voice somehow more girlish now that we’re out of the office. She looks up at me through her lashes, Frank mirroring her with his mouth open again in a happy grin.

I reach out and pet him to try and deflect the emotions washing over me. But still, I can’t lie to her; it’s impossible.

“Just about Grant. I still see him now and then. We meet there, actually, when I can spare the time.”

I tip my chin up the hill, indicating the empty bench at the top. Somewhere behind it, there’s a looming oak tree.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you two were so close.”

She’s genuinely surprised, turning in a circle as Frank tangles us in his leash. We do a strange little dance, both of us laughing by the end of it as we get untangled. In the middle of the mess, I take her elbow to help her balance. Once it’s all figured out, she doesn’t move away, and tucks herself in close enough for my arm to go naturally around her waist.

Frank reaches some indiscernible landmark and turns, following a well-known routine. We start back toward the entrance, a ten-minute walk, at least.

“Grant was a great partner, obviously, but he was more than that.” I turn to look at her. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about any of this with anyone at the office. I don’t like to bring my private life there.”

She nods, eyes on me as I sigh and continue on.

“I didn’t…my dad wasn’t really around when I was growing up. Or, he was, but he wasn’t great, and he left when I was young, so I didn’t really have anyone. You know, a male figure to help me figure things out. How to be. How to act.” I shrug. “Even just advice on retirement accounts or whatever. My brother and I figured it out for ourselves, but once Grant joined the firm…it was like a puzzle piece clicking into place.”

It's easy to talk to her. Too easy. I find myself wanting to spill all of it, all the ache of my childhood, the insecurity of making my own way in the world, and those first few years of the firm.

“When Grant showed up, I was still considering prosecution instead of defense. He called me out on what I really wanted to do, though, which is when Sharpe Law went fully defense. Best change I ever made. Grant’s always given me advice when I need it. He’s not overbearing; he’s not trying to replace my dad. He’s just…there.”

Silence settles around us again. Did I do the right thing, telling her this? Or was her reassurance a ploy, and she’ll head back to the office to tell everyone I’m not as cold-blooded as I put on?

“That sounds nice.”

The words are quiet, wistful, and I finally turn to look at her again. She catches my eye and looks away quickly, the blush from earlier still tinting her cheeks. Frank walks slowly now, having realized we’re almost home.

“I…I lost my mom when I was young. So I understand what you mean, about not having that influence around. And my dad tried, but I think losing her devastated him. So it was just me?—”

She cuts off abruptly. We’re at the main street again and I look around. Did she see her ex? Did I miss something?

Autumn only clears her throat, stepping out of my protection and crossing the street at a brisk pace. I hurry to keep up with her, confused. Did I say something wrong?

“Hey, Autumn. Are you okay?”

She’s a few feet ahead of me but lingers as I catch up.

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