Page 11 of Blind Justice

She’s stunning, he thought, then immediately chastised himself. Ruth was smart, ambitious, and likely not interested in someone like him—an investigator who spent more time working than living. Still, the thought nagged at him.

“You’re awfully quiet over there, Noah.” Isobel’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. Seated beside him, the psychologist looked well considering her kidnapping and hospitalization four months earlier. Her fiancé, Brad, kept his protective hand in hers.

Noah cleared his throat, trying to appear unbothered. “Just enjoying the show.”

“Sure you are,” Turk muttered under his breath, smirking as he reached for the rolls.

Ruth glanced over, her brow arched in curiosity. “What show?”

“The ongoing circus of personalities,” Turk quipped, gesturing to the table. “Doctors, cops, lawyers, firefighters—this table’s a recipe for some epic debates.”

Brad, a state police official, laughed. “That’s rich coming from you, Turk. You argue for sport.”

“Because I’m good at it,” Turk fired back, drawing another round of laughter.

Tristan, a trauma physician, pointed his fork at Ruth. “Speaking of arguments, how’s the lawyer life treating you?”

“Busy,” Ruth admitted, setting down her glass. “But I like it. Keeps me sharp.”

Noah couldn’t resist jumping in, his voice calm and steady. “Considering you work for the dark side, you’re in court a lot?”

“Pretty often. Blake Ellison and Dylan Grant believe you sink or swim as a junior defense attorney,” Ruth said. “Though I’m trying to shift toward mediation when I can. Court’s exciting, but it’s exhausting.” She turned to Olivia, a police detective, sitting beside her. “I imagine you can relate.”

“Absolutely,” Olivia replied, nodding. “There’s only so much conflict you can handle in one day before you need to unplug.”

Molly, a medical examiner, leaned forward, grinning mischievously. “Unplugging doesn’t seem to be Ruth’s thing. She’s been known to argue over the rules of Scrabble.”

“It’s not arguing,” Ruth corrected with mock indignation. “It’s clarifying the rules.”

“Sure it is,” Alex teased, earning a groan from Ruth.

Noah watched the exchange, his chest tightening. It wasn’t just her beauty or intelligence—it was the way Ruth held her own in a room full of big personalities, her sharp wit, matched only by her warmth. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking this way, but the thought crept in:What if?

He forced himself to focus on the table again, where Brad and Ethan were now debating the best methods for de-escalating tense situations.

“Humor works nine times out of ten,” Brad said, his tone confident.

Ethan shook his head. “Not if the person’s past rational thought. Then it’s all about reading body language.”

Noah joined the conversation, his cop instincts kicking in. “It’s a mix of both. Humor can defuse tension, but you have to gauge the situation first.”

Turk chuckled. “Listen to Officer Philosopher over here.”

Ruth’s soft laugh cut through the noise, and Noah’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. “You’re not wrong. Reading people’s emotions is half the battle—whether it’s on the street or in the courtroom.”

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the room seemed to fade away. It was fleeting, but the connection sent warmth through him that no amount of candlelight could rival. As the conversation moved on, Noah found himself smiling.

Before dessert, Charlotte banished her guests to the living room while she, Olivia, Jackson and Alex cleared the table. Ruth sat beside Noah. She leaned back slightly, her eyes thoughtful. “You can see, it’s a big, loud family. We’re all different in our own way, but we’re close.” She sighed. “And, of course, you know about Alex and my mom.” She stared out into space. “They’re good together.”

Noah chuckled. “Yeah, Alex is happy. What’s that like for you?”

Ruth shrugged, clearly used to the weirdness by now. “At first, it was strange, but my mom seems happy. Alex treats her well, so I can’t complain too much. He’s also good to my sisters and me.” She flipped the question back to him. “What about you? Any family?”

Noah nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got three brothers. Jared’s the oldest—he’s the responsible one; he’s an internist in Seattle. My folks flew to be with him, his wife, and my new niece for the holidays. Then there’s Paul; he’s more of a free spirit, lives out in Denver and works as an emergency medicine doctor. But his hobby is being part of a ski patrol. He’s in Vale with his latest snow bunny. I come next. And, finally, Mark, the youngest, he covers his rent as a paramedic. He’s still trying to figure things out. Last I heard, he was chasing some new career as a travel blogger. He’s celebrating a Harry Potter Christmas in London.”

Ruth smiled, clearly amused. “Sounds like a lively bunch.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Noah replied, thinking fondly of his brothers, despite the lunacy they often brought. He watched Ruth out of the corner of his eye, her guard down just slightly in the comfort of the moment.

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