Page 58 of Attraction & Repulsion

Noah was silent for a moment, which was unusual for him. “Whatever it is, beg for his forgiveness,” he suggested. “You guys are endgame.”

“Endgame?” she repeated, cocking her head.

“Youth slang for meant to be together. Look it up.”

“Endgame,” Carson parroted once more, dropping her gaze down to her feet under the table. Her purple-polished toes peeked out of her heels.

Apparently, Noah felt satisfied with her candor, because he didn’t pry anymore. They continued to build their case for another hour, then put away the books on the shelves. Carson was a mixture of excitement and concern. Excited to be given this career opportunity. Concerned becauseshe didn’t want to let her new client, Jacob, and her boss down.

As Carson made her way down the hall, back to her office, Garrett called her name. Taking three steps backward she stood in his office doorway. She eyed the highlighters and sticky notes that had graffitied the law books sprawled on his desk.

Garrett pulled off his reading glasses and laid them on top of his yellow notepad. “I just got off the phone with Mr. and Mrs. Snyder. I guess you made quite the impression with them.”

This surprised her. The Snyders were one of her most difficult clients. Abrupt attitudes. Short tempers. A total disregard for how the legal system worked. Not to mention their constant complaints about their monthly bill.

“Oh, wow,” Carson said, unbunching her eyebrows. “I’m happy to hear that.”

“I know they weren’t the perfect clients, but you were able to work with them and get them to settle.” He picked up his glasses again, but before putting them on, he said, “Keep that up, and I may consider junior partner sooner than I’d originally thought.”

At least I’m doing something right, Carson thought. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Have a good rest of your day,” he said, slipping his glasses back on and dismissing her.

Garrett’s words buzzed in Carson’s ears as she walked into her office, wanting so badly to absorb and enjoy them and to be proud of herself for her hard work in her career. But the pain in her shoulder stole all her enthusiasm.

All she wanted to do was call Jax and tell him the good news. Show him that she was doing something right. Yet her iniquity continued to eat at her,like a school of piranhas swarming and biting and biting and biting. The things she had said to him horrified her.

Picking up her phone, Carson dialed Jax’s number.

“Am I allowed to stop by the station?” she asked when he answered.

He was silent for a second, maybe considering if he wanted to see her or not. “Yes, but if we get a call I would have to leave.”

Grabbing her computer mouse, she began closing out of programs. “That’s fine. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Sure.”

Station 71 sat on the corner of an intersection on the south side of Prescott. Built in the eighties, the muted-crimson brick building was exactly what Carson thought a firehouse would look like as she pulled into the parking lot.

Just as she was about to head to the front entrance, Jax appeared around the corner, causing her heart to thrum in her chest. The air was chilly, but she was sweating. She wished she had something to put her hair up.

“Hi,” she said, stopping a couple feet from him. The afternoon sun’s rays clearly showed the chagrin still evident on his face, even highlighting a few new lines that hadn’t been there before. In any other circumstance, she would be ogling how his uniform hugged his body. His crossed arms distorted the patches on the navy-blue button-up, and his scowl was hard to ignore. She hated that the scowl was her fault.

The moment reminded Carson about the time her fourth-grade teacher broke a porcelain plate on the floor. Then the class tried to glue it all backtogether. Despite their efforts, the plate still had cracks and missing pieces. Right now, Jax was the plate: cracked with missing pieces.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” Carson said, ignoring the pain. Then, unable to hold in her apology any longer, she added, “I’m so sorry for what I said to you last night. It was unfair and uncalled for. You’ve been nothing but patient and supportive, and I really appreciate it.” She bit her cheek, then continued. “And I’m sorry that I broke my promise to you. I want to ask for your forgiveness and try again. Even if I have to handcuff myself to the bed at night, I’m willing to do anything. You can trust me.”

“Can I?”

His response stung, and she asked herself the same question: Could she legitimately promise she would never hurt herself again? Except seeing him now, so despondent, was awful. She never wanted to experience this again.

“You’re right, but I really am trying. That you can trust me on.”

A horn honked, and Jax looked out at the intersection, then back at her. “You called me weak.”

Even though his words felt like a gut punch and she wanted to hunch over from the pain, Carson kept her posture straight, just like the flagpole erected in front of the firehouse. To keep from crying, she bit her tongue. This was her fault. She didn’t deserve to cry.

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