Page 161 of Tides That Bind

Get Tides in the water.

We have to get Tides home first.

I squeeze his hand when I look at my watch. “We should get going. But, Lucas, you have to remember. We don’t know what the judge is going to say, remember? Tides might not be able to come home with us.”

Lucas nods. “But he also might come homewithus, Mom.”

I guess that’s a fair point to make.

We leave the Boulevard and drive to the courthouse. My eyes keep drifting to the rear-view mirror where I watch Lucas toss Tides’s favorite ball back and forth in his hands for the entire fifteen-minute drive.

I spot Finn’s car and pull in next to it and we go inside with just moments to spare.

“How is he?” I ask, sliding next to Caroline.

She lifts a long, auburn lock over her shoulder. “A little nervous…about what you would expect.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Where is he?”

“He just wanted a minute to himself.”

I bounce my leg anxiously, turning my head when I hear the door open from behind us as Riley walks in, pushing open the small partition where he places his things on the table, Captain America included.

I reach over and slide Lucas into my lap. “I want you to know something,” I whisper. “Not all superheroes wear capes.”

Sometimes they wear Marine Corps dress blues.

Sometimes they wear a police badge.

But sometimes they wear suits—sleek and slim fit—and have their hair tied up into a bun.

And sometimes, they wear wetsuits too.

I’m tryingto focus on my opening statement and not get distracted by everyone behind me, or the town solicitor and her deputy at the table beside me while we wait for the judge.

But that becomes next to impossible when I hear Lucas's little gasp and the sound of his voice. “Why so many?”

Peeking over my shoulder, I don’t know what he’s talking about at first, all I see are the courtroom doors open and an officer step through. But this is a courthouse. Of course there are police in and out of here all the time.

But then comes another.

And another.

I turn completely in my seat when Silas walks through, flanked by more town police. He keeps his eyes steady on me as he and his buddies in uniform walk up the aisle, before they turn and sit down.

On the plaintiff’s side of the courtroom—ourside of the courtroom.

Silas gives me a small nod, one I’m grateful for, while the town solicitor to my side burrows holes into my head withher eyes.

“All rise.”

The force with which I stand practically sends a gust of air that leaves my papers fluttering.

“The honorable Judge Pearson presiding,” the bailiff announces.

My eyes follow the white-haired man as he walks through the door in the front corner of the courtroom, his black cloak floating around him.

“Good morning,” Judge Pearson greets from his desk, putting on a pair of thin-framed, silver glasses. “You may sit. Let me get settled.”

---