Page 43 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

My mind is a chaotic mess, so I call the person who’s helped me navigate my most difficult challenges.

“Hi honey.” Martha’s voice sounds groggy when she answers the phone.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” I ask.

“Colby left a few hours ago to go to the local booking facility to meet a client. I tried waiting up for him but fell asleep on the couch watchingOnly Murders in the Building. It’s a good thing you called. Any longer and I would have had a stiff neck for days.”

I chuckle. “Happy I could help save you from a chiropractic disaster.”

“Would you like to tell me what’s bothering you?”

I take a seat on the edge of my desk, drumming my fingers against the polished wood. “What makes you think something’s wrong? Can’t I just call to check in?”

“Of course you can, but you’remyson.” Her voice softens. “It’s my job to know when you’re not okay, whether you tell me or not.”

When Colby and Martha adopted me, I didn’t feel comfortable calling them mom and dad. Those terms are tainted by the memory of a birth mother who abandoned me and a nameless man who never bothered to be involved in my life. Colby and Martha mean so much more to me than that. They provided me with the stability and the love of a family I never thought I’d have.

Although I avoid parental terms, I’ve never objected to being called their son. It’s a reflection of the strong bond we’ve built. The sense of belonging and support they’ve given me.

“Dawson, I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s on your mind,” Martha says, the sound of the TV humming in the background

“It’s nothing.”

That’s a lie.

“Why don’t you tell me anyway?” Martha encourages.

One thing’s for sure—she’s never been one to shy away from helping me, even if I’m not the most receptive. I’ve come to appreciate her unwavering determination and am grateful to have someone who cares enough to stand by me even when I’m being stubborn.

I rub the back of my neck, considering what to share about Reese. “A few months ago, a woman came into the tattoo shop to hide from an awkward first date.” A small smile crosses myface as I remember seeing Reese for the first time. Her pouty lips parted as she breathed heavily, her red hair cascading around her face in wild, untamed waves. When she looked at me with those emerald green eyes, I was mesmerized by their warmth. “She was beautiful, and her nervous rambling only added to her charm.”

“Poor thing. She escaped a terrible date, only to be stuck with your cranky behind.”

“You do know you’re supposed to be nice to me, right?” I tease.

The distant sound of running water and the clink of glasses comes through the phone. Martha is likely multitasking and washing the dishes while we talk. She doesn’t like to stay still while she’s on the phone.

“I don’t sugarcoat the truth, honey. You can be a handful, even on your best days.” She laughs, seemingly entertained by her own words.

“Glad I amuse you,” I deadpan.

“Does this mystery woman have a name?” Martha asks, ignoring my sarcastic tone.

I consider not telling her, but I can already predict how that would go.

“Reese,” I say hesitantly. “She left the tattoo shop without giving me any other information, and three months later, I found out she’d recently started working at Thompson & Tate. Honestly, I never thought I’d see her again.”

“You like this girl, don’t you?” Martha’s voice raises an octave. “Oh, Dawson, that’s wonderful.” I can almost hear her bouncing with enthusiasm.

Is it that obvious?

“Whoa, slow down.” I rake my fingers through my hair, trying to calm my nerves. “Who said I like her?”

Martha scoffs, and the sound of running water abruptly stops. “You didn’t have to; your voice says it all.”

When I first went to live with the Tates, I was skeptical of their motives. It was summer, and I stayed holed up in my room, waiting for them to send me back. Every afternoon, Martha brought me a ham and cheese sandwich because the social worker told her they were my favorite. After seeing the sketchpad overflowing with designs I took everywhere, she got me a new one and a collection of pens. She was in tune with my emotions, anticipating what I needed before I did, and that’s never changed.

“Why don’t you tell me more about Reese?” she prompts.

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