by T. K. Leigh
“Thank you. Now, Ms. Bennett,” the judge says, turning his attention to me for the first time. “I’m sure your attorney already explained what’s going to happen today. I’m going to read off the charges the District Attorney’s office has filed against you. All you’ll need to tell me is if you plead guilty, not guilty, or some other plea you’ve discussed with your attorney. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Splendid.” He lowers his glasses in front of his eyes, bringing up a piece of paper in front of him. “On the charge of aggravated assault, how do you plead?”
I swallow hard, my mouth growing dry. It doesn’t matter how many times Sophia told me that this is simply a formality. It’s still nerve-wracking to stand up here and hear these charges against me.
“Not guilty.”
“On the charge of reckless conduct, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty,” I say again.
“On the charge of criminal trespassing, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty.”
“On the charge of battery, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty.”
“And on the final charge of pointing a weapon at another, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bennett. The record shows you’ve entered your pleas knowingly and willingly.” The judge shifts to address Sophia, peering over the rim of his glasses. “I assume you’ll be filing pre-trial motions.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Okay.” He looks to the woman sitting at the desk to the right of the bench. “Let’s put this over for pre-trial—”
“If I may interject, Your Honor,” the ADA interrupts, standing.
“Yes, Ms. Hawkins?”
“I’ve been in discussions with the victim and his family. This is a bit of a unique situation because of the close relationship between the defendant and the victim’s family. According to the victim, Mr. Jaskulski, Ms. Bennett is involved in a romantic relationship with his brother-in-law, Weston Bradford. While this case wouldn’t fall under the statutory definition of family violence, thus necessitating some sort of order of protection for the duration of the pending criminal proceedings, there is also a prior romantic relationship between the victim and the defendant, as well as evidence of prior stalking while the defendant was a student at the university where the victim taught. As such, the prosecution requests an order of protection be issued in this case for not only the victim, but also his wife and minor child.”
I blink, turning my eyes to Sophia, a question in my gaze. She subtly shakes her head before addressing the judge. “Your Honor, that’s a bit excessive. As Assistant District Attorney Hawkins admitted, there is no statutory obligation to issue any sort of protective order. This is Ms. Bennett’s first offense. She’s never received so much as a parking ticket before this. Not to mention, the prior relationship included Mr. Jaskulski sexually assaulting my client, which will be the basis of our defense to the charges. At this point, issuing a protective order would just be punitive.”
“Duly noted, Attorney Mercer. But in this case, I’m inclined to agree with Assistant District Attorney Hawkins. While I am aware of the defendant’s accusations of sexual assault, the parties do have a history I can’t ignore.”
The clerk extends her hand toward the ADA, who provides her with several pieces of paper, which I can only assume are the protective orders already drawn up and awaiting a signature.
“Okay, Ms. Bennett. I’m signing three temporary protective orders here. One for Domenic Jaskulski. One for Julia Prescott. And one for Imogene Jaskulski. These are no-contact protective orders, which means you cannot contact these individuals in any way whatsoever. If you happen to be in the same restaurant, you’re the one obligated to leave. They are not. From this moment forward, you must remain at least fifty feet away from them at all times, with the exception of any court proceedings. These will remain in effect for a year, but may be extended or terminated early if warranted. Violation of these protective orders is a misdemeanor punishable by up to twelve months incarceration. Do you understand?”
I look at Sophia, who nods for me to agree.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
I stare blankly ahead as the clerk, ADA, and Sophia discuss a date for pre-trial motions. Once we’re dismissed, I follow Sophia away from the table and out of the courtroom.
Growing up, I truly believed in the concept of everyone being innocent until proven guilty, probably naïvely so. But I somehow held onto hope that guilty people would be punished for their crimes, innocent people set free.
Now I’ve finally realized that’s not how the justice system works. I saw the way everyone in that courtroom looked at me the second my case was called. They’d already made up their minds without hearing a single shred of evidence.
Why even bother fighting?
“Don’t let this affect you,” Sophia whispers once we slip out of the double doors. “I’ll be filing several pre-trial motions. Some I can file right now. Others I’ll have to wait until after the prosecution has shared their evidence with me prior to trial. However, I expect to hear from the ADA assigned to this case this afternoon. They’ll want to make a deal as quickly as possible so they don’t have to go through the discovery process.”
“A deal?”
She nods. “A plea bargain. I know it’s not what you want, and I promised I’d fight for you all the way to the end, but we also need to be realistic. This first deal they make will most likely be the most attractive. But like I said, I will fight this thing to the bitter end, if that’s the decision you make. If you ask me, the battle’s just begun. Okay?”
I draw in a deep breath, trying to find comfort in her reassurance. With every setback, it’s becoming more and more difficult. It’s not like I’ve spent any time with Julia or Imogene since New Year’s Eve anyway, so this shouldn’t bother me. But to know the judge believes my actions warrant protection makes me think that, no matter what I do or say, he’ll only hear that a black woman shot a white man.
“I have to get to my next hearing,” Sophia says, glancing at her watch. “I’ll be in touch soon. If anything comes up or you have any questions, just give me a call.” She grabs my hand and squeezes, then runs off into another part of the courthouse.
“You okay?” Hazel asks, approaching with Diego.
I grit a smile. “Yeah.”
“Day drinking?” She arches a brow.
“Sure.”
I allow her to lead me away from the courtroom, and we successfully navigate the various corridors back toward the main rotunda. Everything looks just as it did when I first walked into the building, yet everything’s changed. Especially my optimism.
“You two wait in here and I’ll grab the car,” Diego directs as we approach the front doors. “I’ll text when I’m about to pull up.”
“You sure you won’t get lost this time?” Hazel jabs, placing a hand on her hip.
Diego rolls his eyes, leaning toward her, his expression devilish. “Watch that smart mouth.”
“And here I thought you loved my smart mouth.”
“You know I do.” He places a short but full kiss on her lips. “Be right back.” Turning, he skirts through the steady stream of people coming into the courthouse, then disappears through the glass doors.
“Come on. Let’s sit.” Hazel grabs my hand, tugging me toward a set of benches off to the side. I walk with her a few steps, then stop in my tracks when a familiar silhouette approaches. He stops, too, just as uneasy about our surprise encounter. Although it’s difficult to truly call this a surprise, considering he did show up to my arraignment.
“Hey,” Wes says, cutting through the tense silence between us. He runs his long fingers through his dark hair, making my hand twitch with an urge to do that myself.
“Hey,” I respond timidly, rocking on my feet.
“How… Um… How are you?”
I peer into his eyes. Ones th
at were once vibrant and full of life seem deflated. His suit is disheveled, his normally crisp tie loosened.
“Good. You?”
“Good.” His lips lift into a hint of a smile, but sadness still envelopes him. From his slumped shoulders, to the bags under his eyes, to the slight quiver of his chin. “Actually, that’s a lie. I’m not good.”
“Neither am I,” I admit, much to my surprise. That’s always seemed to be Wes’ superpower. His mere proximity causes me to confess my darkest secrets, succumb to my deepest desires.
“Oh, shoot!” Hazel’s voice forces my head toward her, reminding me we’re not alone. Another one of Wes’ superpowers — making me forget everything and everyone else. “I think I left my, um…pen in the courtroom.”
I look at her, brows furrowed. “Your…pen?”
“Yeah. I’ll go check.”
“It’s just a pen, Haze.”
She scurries away, waving me off. “It’s my favorite one. Wes, wait with her for me, would you?”
I steal a glance at him, his gaze focused on me and nothing else, stripping me raw, yet making me feel more hope than I have in days.
“I’d be happy to.”
Chapter Sixteen
Weston
I watch as Hazel runs off, leaving me alone with Londyn for the first time since Monday.
All week, I’ve thought about what I’d say once I saw her again. Nothing seems appropriate right now, not after watching her being accused of baseless crimes in court, then being forbidden from having any contact with my sister and niece. It took every ounce of resolve I possessed to not fly across the courtroom and strangle Nick as he flashed his vindictive smile in my direction when the prosecutor requested those protective orders.
Shifting my eyes toward Londyn, I take in her appearance. She looks as beautiful as ever, but something’s off. She doesn’t belong in this place. Doesn’t deserve to go through this after everything else she’s endured. Frustration builds in my throat for what feels like the hundredth time in the past week over the fact that I can’t do anything to stop this out-of-control train from careening off the tracks.
“You wore your necklace,” I finally say.
Her fingers go to the pendant. “I haven’t taken it off since you gave it to me.” She meets my eyes, a small smile playing on her full, glossy lips I’ve dreamt of kissing every second of our separation. “Except to shower, of course.”
“Of course.” I shove my hands into my pockets, shifting my weight on my feet.
I hate this tension surrounding us. I didn’t even feel this uneasy around her when we first met. Or during that first dinner my sister planned in order to force us to spend time together. Or during those early days after she agreed to help with Gampy and Meemaw’s house as more than just my interior designer.
“Is it me, or is this more awkward than a first date?” I blurt out after several moments of strained silence.
Her shoulders relaxing, she laughs, the sound like music to my ears. “It is.” She tilts her head, pinching her lips together in a playful pout. “Then again, I’m not sure what we’d classify as our first date.”
“We kind of just fell into us, didn’t we?”
“We kind of did,” she admits with a tremble.
It takes everything I have to not wrap my arms around her, pull her into me, and never let go. Just like it’s killed me to keep my distance this week. But she needed space. Needed to know I’ll respect her wishes and won’t assume to know what she needs better than she does. Needed to know I respect her desire to maintain control of her life.
But she also needs to know I still support her, something I was able to demonstrate by being here today instead of golfing with a client who’s on the brink of taking his business to another firm, costing mine ten percent of our annual earnings.
The truth is, even if it cost my firm 100 percent of its annual earnings, I’d still be here.
“So…” She clears her throat. “What would you call our first date?”
“That’s a tough one, considering our path has been anything but traditional. In my line of work, when faced with a problem, it’s best to look at the necessary elements. We should do the same here.”
“Okay.” She smirks, an easiness about her I haven’t seen in what feels like forever. Almost like the past week never happened. Like we’re still the same people we’ve always been before our world crashed around us. “What are the essential requirements for a date to be considered a date?”
I briefly tap on my bottom lip, as if deep in thought. “First and foremost, there needs to be some sort of offer and acceptance.”
She arches a single brow. “That sounds like a contract.”
“True. But you can’t classify something as a date if you just so happen to be at the same place at the same time.”
“I suppose that rules out our first encounter.”
I chuckle. “It certainly does. As much as I enjoyed that first meeting, I don’t consider that a date. More like a…very interesting plot twist.”
She barks out a laugh, the sound strange in a place where guilt is decided and freedom erased. “A plot twist? So that’s what I am to you?”
“Perhaps.” I lean down, inhaling her comforting scent, and lower my voice. “But you’re the best kind of plot twist. I never saw you coming, Lo.” I adjust my stance, our bodies a breath away. Electricity hums in the space between us. “The second I did, I knew I’d do whatever it took to keep you in my life. Still will.”
She briefly closes her eyes, seeming to bask in my reassurance before stepping back. “What’s the next requirement?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Some women may not agree with this, but the man should pay.”
She parts her lips, as I knew she would, but I hold up my hand, cutting off her protest.
“I understand this whole feminism thing, and fully agree that women are equal to men. Hell, if you ask me, women far exceed men in many areas.”
“Nice save,” she remarks flirtatiously.
“Still, I like to think chivalry isn’t completely dead. So for it to count as our first date, I would have had to pay for you.”
“I suppose I’ll let you have that one. For now.” She winks. “What else?”
I relax my stance. “This is where it gets trickier. Or at least more specific. For it to be a date, I believe a man should compliment her appearance.”
“Is that right?”
I nod, edging toward her. “Absolutely. There should be no doubt in her mind he thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the room…hell, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, peaceful and serene. “That’s how you’ve always made me feel. Like I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.”
“That’s because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I rake my gaze over her appearance. From the ringlet curls framing her face and cascading past her shoulders. To the depths of her dark eyes that once hid secrets from me but now gladly allow me to see their pain. To her full, glossy lips that I’ve been lucky enough to taste on an almost daily basis.
But it’s not just her outer beauty that’s drawn me to her from the beginning. It’s the beauty found underneath that’s always spoken to me. Since our first encounter, I felt in my heart she was different. Felt her pain, her anguish, but also her strength.
She inches closer, barely a breath separating our bodies. But that small space may as well be an ocean for all I’m concerned, the wall she erected a barrier I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to scale again. But I can’t lose hope. Just like I gave her space all those months ago after she told me about her past, I’ll do the same now. She eventually realized what was right in front of her. I pray she will again.
“If that’s the case, our first date couldn’t have been before the county fair. If memory serves, that was the first time you complimented my appearance. When you helped me out of your sister’s car, I be
lieve.”
“You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you before then,” I admit, resisting the urge to cup her face in my hands and pull her lips toward mine. “Since I met you, I haven’t thought about another woman. Even when we tried to keep our relationship strictly professional.”
My heart warms at the memory of how hard we both fought this attraction. But there are some forces too powerful to resist. And that was Londyn. Our lives collided in a way I never imagined. Regardless of how it all ends, I’ll never regret running into a torrential downpour to help a complete stranger.
“I think you and I both know our relationship has never been professional,” she says in a soft voice.
“I do.” I gradually lean toward her, but still don’t touch her.
“What else needs to be present for a date to be considered a date?”
I clear my throat, straightening, but not pulling back too much. “It probably goes without saying that he’s nervous.”
She cocks a brow. “That’s a requirement?”
“For a first date. It’s like a job interview. You can have all the confidence in the world, yet still be nervous you’ll say the wrong thing and ruin your chances. If you ask me, the stakes are even higher on a date.”
“Higher than job security?”
“You can always apply for a different job. But a first date with a woman who completely steals your breath?” I shake my head. “You only have one chance to get it right or risk losing the best thing that could ever happen to you.”
“Did I make you nervous when we first met?” She bats her lashes.
“That may be the understatement of the year,” I respond with a laugh, then lower my voice. “And if I’m being honest, you still make me nervous, Lo.”
She tilts her gaze toward mine. “Still?”
I nod. “Or maybe scared is a better word.”
“What are you scared about?”
I reach for her hand, grateful when she allows me to take it. I study her skin against mine. Dark against light. Two polar opposites. Two different worlds. Yet we somehow found each other. Somehow fell for each other.