Page 90 of Fighting Jacob

“But not enough to do the right thing.” I throw a palm in his face, brushing off his supposed regret. “I’m over this. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, so why should I give a shit if you get locked up for years?”

After hitting the one on my phone, I press it against my ear. Callum is too spaced out on drugs to realize I didn’t hit the call connect button. “Alright, alright! Fuck, Lola. I’ll do it. I’ll say I swung at him first.”

Chapter Forty-Five

Jacob

Three days after being released on bail, I’m nervously tapping my foot in the court chambers with another dozen delinquents waiting for their turn before the judge. I've rehearsed my plea nonstop the past two hours, praying a sob story will make the judge lenient on me. From what I'm hearing, even pleading guilty won't stop me from spending time behind bars this time around. I fucked up, but come on, after the hard few months I've had, tell me you wouldn't have reacted the same way?

My eyes float up from the floor when Michael, Jenni's dad, rushes my way. He only agreed to represent me after Jenni reached out to him. Things have been tense with them since Jasper's birth. I don't know what caused their rift, but I'm glad it didn't stop Jenni from seeking his assistance. Michael is a brilliant lawyer, and from what Ryan said during my incarceration at Ravenshoe PD, I need the best lawyer money can buy.

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch.”

After yanking me to my feet like his belly isn't the size of Santa's, he straightens the knot in my tie, then gestures for me to enter the courtroom door we're standing next to. I do a double-take when we enter. The judge is already seated at the podium, and he bears an uncanny resemblance to famous actor Morgan Freeman. If I weren't seconds from spending the next three-plus years in jail, I'd snap his picture to show Emily. Alas, freaky resemblances will have to wait until my livelihood isn't on the line.

Michael gestures for me to sit in the pew behind the defense’s table before requesting permission to approach the bench. When his request is granted, he hands the judge a single piece of paper. They discuss the particulars of my case, but I can't hear a word they're speaking.

Once they’ve finished their chat, the judge gestures for me to move forward. My nerves are so rattled, my legs shake with every step I take. Here it is; I’m about to be handed my fate.

Please, God, don’t take me away from Lola for years. We’ve already endured our share of unfair separations.

I'd give anything to have just an hour alone with Lola. To see her smile, smell her skin. To feel her pulse flutter under my fingers when we kiss, but since I didn't want to burden her with my stupidity, she's unaware I'm facing sentencing today. Excluding Emily, Michael, and Ryan, no one knows. I didn't even tell my dad. I don't know why. He is who I get my strength from. I just didn't want to see his disappointment. It's bad enough seeing it in Lola's eyes. I don't want to see it in his too.

My eyes drop from the ceiling when the judge says, “After speaking with your lawyer, I've reduced the four-year sentence I had planned to serve you to six months' probation with five hundred hours of community service.” I stare at him in astonishment, certain I heard him wrong. “Along with your community service, you’ll be required to attend mandatory counseling for anger management.”

I remain quiet, muted by shock. Ryan said I had no chance of escaping incarceration, so how the fuck did I only get six months’ probation?

When the judge smacks down his gavel, Michael’s feet lift an inch off the ground. His celebration shifts to a more respectable one when the judge’s bushy brow arches high. “Thank you, Judge, thank you. That’s a very fair verdict.”

After banding his arm around my shoulders, he guides me outside. The cool afternoon is heavenly to my overheated skin, but I'm still stunned.

“How did you do that?” Emily said he was a good lawyer, but she failed to mention he performed magic tricks.

“I don't deserve all the credit." Modesty will never be his strong point. He only needs to fan out some feathers, and he'd have the peacock look down pat. "The judge overturned your original conviction, which means you didn’t have a prior conviction on your criminal record. A standard sentence for a first-time offender is probation and, if you’re unlucky, community service.”

“My original conviction got overturned?”

Michael chuckles at the bewilderment in my tone. “Yes—”

“How?”

“The DA was handed compounding evidence. The judge had no choice but to overturn your previous conviction.” He whacks me in the chest with the manila folder he’s holding. “Why do you look so worried? You should be celebrating.”

“I’m happy. I’m just… shocked.”

“Shocked works. Shocked is still living. I can handle shocked.” After exhaling so harshly, he ruffles my hair, he nudges his head to the doors he just forced me through. “How about we get this wrapped up so you can be shocked anywhere but here? I’ve got golf to play.”

When I roll my eyes, he slaps my shoulder. “If you dis golf, I’ll be tempted to lose the evidence that just saved your ass. I don’t have much to look forward to these days other than chasing that little white ball around acres of rolled turf.”

“Not even your grandson?”

The distress my face has been holding the past ten minutes leaps onto Michael’s. “Grandson? What grandson?”

My silence says more than my words ever could, and it jumps Michael into action. Within twenty minutes, I’m sitting in my car with my probation documentation on my passenger seat and the business card for my new therapist in my wallet. I'm also harboring a shit-ton of grief. I didn't realize Michael was unaware Jenni gave birth months ago.

On my way back to the hospital, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket to power it up. Within seconds of turning on, it indicates I’ve received a text message.

Lola: Good luck today xx

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