Page 3 of The Defense Rests
Six years.
It's been six years since I last saw Shaun. We were never anything serious, at least not to him. I wanted more out of our time together. Over the course of two years of playdates, I developed feelings for him. I wanted him to be my permanent daddy, not just an occasional plaything. He helped me discover a side of myself that I've since kept secret from most people. A secret that has made dating hard. Well, harder than it should.
Six years. Wow. Six years of carefully constructed walls and buried emotions, all shattering in the space of a single, deceptively plain folder. I stare down at the file and flip through a few pages again. I freeze, unsure how I missed it before when I looked through the photocopies. Amongst them, a picture of Shaun. He's a bit older now. A few wrinkles line the outer edges of his eyes. His hair is a bit longer and grayer at the temples. Hot. He's still hot. His eyes are a gray-blue, and I remember the way he looked at me while we were playing. Like I was the only one he would ever look at that way. I was his little. My chest aches because that is a lie I can't keep telling myself. I'mnothis.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I pick up the file and begin reading again. Forcing myself to look past the name and focus on the facts of the case. The details of the malpractice filter through my brain fog of memories. Shaun––no, Dr. Whitmore–– failed to properly diagnose a patient, leading to a series of complications that resulted in permanent damage to her baby.Well, that doesn't sound like Shaun. The medical records, precisely documented, were impenetrable due to complex jargon and unappealing clinical findings. I can barelyfocus on the details; my thoughts keep veering towards Shaun, the man, not the defendant.
Memories of the two of us playing at the center. Shaun didn't mind that I liked more feminine things–glitter nail polish, dressing in my sparkle tutu, and playing with a wide range of dolls. A smile crosses my face at the memory of him holding up a flowery dress to one of my dolls. It was too plain, and I wanted her to wear her sparkly dress to match my tutu. He said,'Not everyone can pull off sparkles as well as you.'Something about that interaction made me giggle. I felt…special. Shaun didn't care that I was tall and broad. A football player who loved dolls and all things glittery. He was so caring. Warm. Attentive. Fun.
We never saw each other outside of the center. He was a young professional working odd hours, trying to finish up his residency. I assumed he would move away from Rockport Ridge after he finished his studies. I never thought he'd stay. Back then, I was a kid. I had just finished high school when we met, and I was focused on college classes and trying to convince my parents that I was going into law, not medicine. It took them a while to accept it. Still, they eventually agreed that having a lawyer in the family would be beneficial. Mom teased that she would need good representation when she killed my father if he didn't stop spending money on his garden. My father is the only one of us with a green thumb.
More memories come crashing in.
I remember sitting on the bench in the changing room. It was so quiet and lonely. I felt my heart fissuring right down the middle. The slow release of pain, and I thought I was going to die. The quiet conference room reminds me of the quiet dressing room. The silence echoes with the loss of something profound and irreplaceable. I hadn't actively sought him out in the past six years because I was so wrapped up in school andthen getting into law school. With my studies, I didn't have time for anything else, and Shaun deserved better than what I could offer.
I feel mocked by the file folder in front of me. My former daddy, now a defendant in a high-stakes medical malpractice lawsuit. The sheer audacity of the situation is almost comical, if not for its profoundly unsettling nature. The sharp irony, biting into my consciousness. I have been working myself to death for the past six years to get where I am, only to suddenly be faced with an ethical dilemma that threatens to unravel everything I've worked so hard to achieve.
The question is inescapable: could I, in good conscience, represent Heather Maddison? The conflict of interest is blatant. My personal feelings, once buried deep, now threaten to cloud my professional judgment. The legal ethics I swore to uphold, the principles of objectivity and impartiality I hold dear, seem fragile and almost laughable. The carefully constructed walls of my professional life seem on the verge of crumbling.
"I need some air," I whisper through a sigh to nobody since I'm alone in the room.
I place the file in my bag and promise to give it a thorough review over the weekend. I gently run my hand through my hair, fingers getting caught in the tangle of curls as usual.
Stepping over to the window overlooking the city, the hustle and bustle of travelers reflects the chaos in my brain. In a world so vast, this case seems minuscule in comparison. However, it's my job, and I have the next three days to figure out what to do about it. The weight of this decision settles heavily on my chest, a physical burden that mirrors the ethical and emotional complexities before me. Come Monday, I know I'll have to make a choice, a choice that will change my life forever. The stakes are high, both professionally and personally. The future, once clear and focused, now lay shrouded in an uncertain fog.
Two
Shaun
Condensation from my glass slicks my palm as I lift it to my lips. The amber liquid burns as I take another sip. Ice clinks against the glass as my shaky hand sets it back on the sleek black bar top.
"What's got you on edge, friend?" Jasper asks.
Jasper has been a friend of mine for a few years. He took me under his wing when I first started experimenting with the BDSM lifestyle. Introducing me to a couple of other daddies in Rockport Ridge, and over the years, we developed a tight bond. Jasper owns the club here in Bedford City and was dating a middle named Carlos back in Rockport Ridge; commuting back and forth a few times a week.
When Carlos graduated, he moved up here to be with Jasper and has more opportunities for working with his degree in graphic arts. When Carlos moved out, his roommate didn't take it well and was heartbroken. Noah and Carlos are both middles and tight like brothers. The only thing that eased Noah’s pain was having his boyfriend, Marcus, asking him to move in with him. He promised that they would have playdates as often as possible with Carlos. It's been four years now, but feels like yesterday.
Jasper clears his throat, and I look up at him through my lashes as if I wasn't just lost in memories of the past.
"Seriously?" I quirk a brow.
"Ah…the lawsuit." He pulls the small towel off his shoulder and wipes the already clean bar top. "How's that going? It's been a hot minute, hasn't it?"
"Over a year. I'm in town to meet with the law firm tomorrow morning. Something about a new settlement deal they want me to sign." I inhale deeply and try to relax my shoulders.
"That's good. Right?"
I shrug. I have no idea. "It's the prosecution, so anything can happen."
Jasper leans over the counter and talks quietly. "I still think the whole thing is bullshit, and something isn't adding up. You need a better attorney. Yours is a fucking wimp."
I let out a soft chuckle because he isn't wrong. "I agree. But who? It's so late in the game nobody would dare touch it at this point. All I can hope for is to not lose my license in the end." Malpractice lawsuits are touchy. Even if I'm cleared of all charges, it tarnishes my name and reputation.
"We're all behind you. You know that, right?" I nod. I did know that. Barrett, Marcus, and Jasper have been by my side for years. "And you will always have a place here behind the bar with me at Pierre's." The kink club named after his French heritage. He says it means solidity and reliability. I tease him that it just means rock. But in a way, that fits too. Ha has been my rock for years, and he doesn’t even know it.
Shaun slides another drink over, and the alcohol helpings.
"The little room is having a special event tonight. Why don't you go check it out to get your mind off things?" He holds a hand up as my mouth falls open to decline. "Not to play. Maybe just being around all the cute littles will help you relax more. Who knows? Maybe one will catch your attention, and you can do a scene tonight. No pressure."
