Page 44 of First Surrender

“What?” She gapes at me like a fish.

“I cannot back your son. I do not know him, nor do I care to get involved with politics. I will not be backing anyone’s campaign.”

She doesn’t like my answer, her shoulders square and her chest rises with displeasure. “Your position is an elected position. I hope you realize the impact this will make.”

That gets me moving again. “I don’t think it will and honestly, I don’t care,” I shout loud enough for her to hear because this time she doesn’t follow me. I have more important places to be.

Chapter Twenty-One

Natalie

Isettle into the unforgiving wooden bench like I have every time that I’ve been in this damn courtroom, adjusting to the cool lacquer under my fingertips, and forcing my wound-tight muscles to relax.

I’m not much of a prayer warrior but I’ve spent all morning hoping like hell that something will go in my favor and I’ll learn that Declan is staying in jail. Or better yet, being sentenced to life in prison.

That won’t happen but I’ll plead with the universe regardless.

Declan’s posse arrives and I ignore them. I don’t have the energy to deal with their shit today. When the prosecutor and the defense lawyer get settled, I know Declan will be led out soon. My back stays tight with tension preparing to see him.

I have beef with most men I encounter and obviously can’t stand Jackson, but I’ve never hated anyone more than I hate Declan Randolph. He will forever be the worst person who has ever entered my life. The only reason that I don’t wish that he was never born is because I have Dec. Dec is the one good thing that Declan and my mother’s sham marriage ever did.

Judge Reisner enters and the deputy asks us to rise but as usual, the judge quickly seats us again. In that minute gap oftime that my butt leaves the bench I peek over my shoulder to see if Jackson is in the back row.

He isn’t.

I assumed he’d be here as he has the last handful of times but it doesn’t matter. I’ll stake a claim on this side of the room, being the only advocate for justice and the only person who truly cares to see Declan Randolph rot.

The proceedings continue and my gut feels increasingly hollow as the judge allows Prosecutor Fulton to update the courtroom on the issue with the Lawson PD detective before he makes his announcement.

Sometime during his spiel, the air shifts. I don’t know how I can tell. There wasn’t a disturbance behind me, no noise to indicate someone had entered the courtroom, yet somehow I know Jackson’s here now.

If I turn my head and look, I guarantee that he’ll be in his usual seat in the back row and his eyes will be on mine as if he anticipates all my movements. Despite the nerves tingling the hairs on the back of my neck, I keep it locked tight and don’t allow myself to turn to confirm if he’s here.

It doesn’t matter if he is or not, it won’t change the outcome that’s about to take place in front of me.

“As of today, the defendant’s charges will be removed. His case is dismissed and in the eyes of the court, he is innocent.” The room erupts. The posse of thugs to my right hip and hooray while I claw at my stomach and try not to puke.

This can’t happen.

All of the willpower in me to overcome whatever comes next drains from my body until I’m lightheaded. The fight to put Declan behind bars was the only thing keeping me going besides Dec.

How can this man get away with murdering my mother?

The tension in my neck uncoils, forcing my attention to the back row without any energy left in me to stop it. The familiar honey eyes are already staring directly at me and the breath stills in my chest. The spot was empty a few minutes ago but I knew I was right.

He’s here.

The defeat and the horror are evident in his gaze. Or maybe it’s a projection of my own inner turmoil, I don’t know.

“Order, order.” The judge pounds his gavel ordering the room to quiet and I have to force myself to turn back to the front of the courtroom, slowly tearing my stare from Jackson’s until I’m locking eyes with the monster who killed my mother.

Then Declan winks at me. The fucker winks.

My stomach fills with acid and I think I’m going to be sick. All I can do is sit painfully still and breathe through it.

Alongside the noise of the room dying out is an unmistakable one. It’s the creaking of a wooden bench, the jangle of metal, and the rustling of fabric as someone approaches me from behind. The wood creaks again and the same noises happen as the person sits directly behind me.

I don’t need to turn around to confirm who it is. He is always right here. No matter how many times I yell at him, or how mad he gets, he is the only one who keeps showing up for me.

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